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Author Topic: Shuffleboard- Open  (Read 125 times)

* Jack Greenberg

    (12/23/2024 at 04:57)
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Friday, November
11 am
Chilly

It wasn't uncommon to see Jack out in town- He did live in the Wizarding World, after all. But it also wasn't often that the Auror could be spotted sitting at a table outdoors on a brisk day drinking a coffee and reading the paper. That was a luxury few seemed to have these days.

But he'd had an early meeting at the bank to argue why a vault should be sealed indefinitely, followed by a second meeting to see how the Auror Office's pension fund was doing, and ending with a third meeting to check the security on some of the less publicized high security vaults the Office controlled. It had all been routine, boring, and efficient enough that he'd gotten done with enough time to enjoy some time relaxing- Another rarity.

It was the shadow of a person near him that interrupted Jack's solitude. It wasn't unwelcome, of course, he was reading about how the last month of Quidditch had been voted the most boring in history by 121 countries.

"I'd offer you the weather section, but as you can see its rather cold out." He offered, not looking up.

* Samael Gray

    (12/23/2024 at 08:44)
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Walking through Diagon in November wasn't too bad. It was the quiet before December with its lights and trees and hot teas and expectant children. The December crowd was better to hide in, and the gold hung heavy in their bags, but November was better when you didn't care all that much for the people.

His jacket looked new, an ashen grey with a high collar, woolen, high quality. But it contrasted with the combat boots on his feet, the trousers that told of someone that spent most of his time outdoors.

Passing others, Sammy looked for any obvious signs of wristwatches, pocketwatches. Or a wand sticking out a pocket. Wands were expensive and you could never have too many of them. Until his eyes landed on the figure seated outside the little café - unusual, in a month like this.

He looked fancy. Then again, he was the Head of Auror Office, as far as Sammy was able to recognise him.

But there might be some sort of opening there.

And so he slumped down on a chair, and was immediately made aware that he could have done so more gracefully, more unnoticably. That he'd already blown any sort of cover that he might have wanted should he be able to pull off anything at all.

"I'd offer you the weather section, but as you can see its rather cold out."

Samael found a pack of cigarettes from a pocket, using the collar and his hand to protect against any current of air as he lit it with the tip of a Cedar wand (- not his). He wore no hat, revealing a mop of unruly, dark blond hair. On his hands were fingerless gloves.

Greenberg.

They had probably gone to school together, but Sam didn't ever think that he'd talked to him. Sammy had just been that impossible kid that eventually dropped out, as they'd all forseen.

(It was worse the other way around - if Jack remembered him, as the Gray name hung heavy in the criminal world -

Samael's father had been Head of the Auror Office in the long years of 1934-1945, before he was revealed as a serial killer and sentenced to Azkaban for life. Samael's sentences of theft and occassional violence was a joke in comparison

- but Sammy was better known for quick escape than for thinking ahead.)

"Does it say what the weather's going to be like in the coming days?" he asked, and his accent betrayed origination in Wales.
« Last Edit: 12/23/2024 at 09:41 by Samael Gray »

* Jack Greenberg

    (12/25/2024 at 06:01)
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If the American had remembered the Welshman from school, he made no indication of it as he flipped back to the weather section somewhat lazily before reading: "Weekend in London is cold but clear, Hogsmeade getting some slight snow, and assuming you're from out west, Cardiff is going to be windy." Jack intoned before sliding the part of the paper over to the other man, as if they had been enjoying a late lunch together.

In truth, Jack wasn't entirely unaware of who his new companion was. Rather, like most in the Auror Office, Jack had at least a general idea of the different actors associated with different criminal organizations and elements. He couldn't place this guys name, but he could simplify things enough to say the man wouldn't be making an appearance at the Holiday party.

But there was a potential benefit to this conversation. Those benefits weren't likely, but Jack saw no risk and enormous reward. That all started with a pretty simple, although leading, question- "Although of course there are more places in Wales than Cardiff, Mr...?"

* Samael Gray

    (12/25/2024 at 11:22)
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He was momentarily dumbfounded.

Now, Sammy wasn't usually hard to read. But to have someone so easily peel off layers to all the different things that he felt neither connection nor need for association with, kicked him into a spin. A spin that he, for all its intricancies, had some trouble following.

This was too much information delivered to him at once.

For a thinking human, there would have been several options. An obvious option would have been to put himself in relation to the prestigous family of his mother. That way he would have solved the connection to Portcawl, and their fancy Prothero castle.

But he felt no connection, and thus to answer such a thing was to him completely unnatural.

(And it was his curse always, that he'd just do what fell to him, and not think.)

Another possibility, which would probably have been smarter, would have been to make something up.

But the most straight-forward answer was Gray. And he might have said that, in the mess of confusion, if his mind had not already stuck on something else.

For all the time he spent outside - and enjoyed spending outside - his interest in the weather was real. But now he didn't remember the weather forecast for any of these places.

In the fog of names, all he replied with was "Sam". Then --

"Why would I go to Wales?" he asked, brow furrowed, as the grey smoke drew artwork into the surrounding air.

He didn't offer the man any cigarettes.
« Last Edit: 01/04/2025 at 14:12 by Samael Gray »

* Jack Greenberg

    (01/02/2025 at 05:32)
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Jack had been 90% sure the man was from Wales, but the response from the man dropped that confidence to the low 80's at best. Not that it particularly mattered, of course, but it gave a certain indication that Sam didn't like the idea of his accent giving away his home.

"Your accent sounds Welsh, but forgive me if I'm wrong. I'm not always the best on British accents." Jack offered, flipping the page of the paper to a story about the all-Europe best Niffler competition.

There was a delicate balance when talking to someone on the opposition. This guy could be just a curious local with some unfortunate associations, interested in nothing more than a chat. He could be an assassin. Or he could be anyone in between. The possibilities were endless.

"So, Sam, where are you from?" Jack asked, watching the smoke rise gently into the air with mild interest. The other man smoking could mean anything from nerves to just plain needing some nicotine. It didn't matter much. Or maybe it did. That would be for Sam to decide.

* Samael Gray

    (01/04/2025 at 14:53)
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"Your accent sounds Welsh, but forgive me if I'm wrong. I'm not always the best on British accents."

Oh, that. The gears of his mind turned into action. He could follow the logic when it was delivered to him.

"Nah, that's right," he confirmed. It was a piece of information that meant very little to him. He gave very little thought to how he spoke, and the fact that he was always on the move meant that he tended to pick up little things here and there. But that constant moving, as combined with long periods of solitude, also meant that his accent remained relatively stable.

"So, Sam, where are you from?"

"Just now, I came out of the Snake Pit," he said, shrugging. It was not the best place for a breakfast, but it was cheap. Also, it was a good place to check in for any available little jobs that might be on offer.

"And before that I came out of the Rothiemurchus Forest," he continued. It was not as much an avoidance of the question as it was an admission to not really belonging anywhere. Or a denial of any such thing, anyway.

It was one of the traits that he'd inherited from his father.

"How about you?" He returned the question, spurred by the fact that it was a while since he'd talked to anyone at all. "Do you hunt?" he followed up, more randomly, though not entirely detached from his previous answer.

* Jack Greenberg

    (01/06/2025 at 03:48)
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What the hell was this conversation...?

Jack had been part of plenty of disjointed conversations, but this particular conversation was uniquely odd. Sam wasn't unique in the wizarding world though. Plenty of wizards and witches in their world were a bit eccentric, and it was far from a crime to be odd.

"The Snakepit is a good choice, although I've never been there this early." He offered offhandedly, leaning back slightly in his chair, keeping one hand on the other mans hands. He didn't know what the man had been hunting up in Scotland, but it would be poor form to be the next prey.

"I hunt in a fashion, but not so much animals."

It was a short response, not designed to be threatening despite the implication, but also one that clearly indicated Jack had no desire to explain what exactly he hunted. At the very least, it was a social faux pax to discuss over breakfast.

"Do you hunt? Lots of deer up there, no?"

* Samael Gray

    (01/13/2025 at 14:48)
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Samael Gray was, perhaps, not the best at smalltalk. There were several reasons for this. One was that Sammy was incredibly easy to distract, and he was prone to go with the random thoughts that popped up in his head from time to time. That also made it hard for him to follow just any sort of conversation without trailing off either into his own head or into another topic completely.

Another was that he simply did not tend to have an interest in many of the things that interested the common wizard of Diagon Alley.

"I hunt in a fashion, but not so much animals."

"People, I'm sure," he quipped offhandedly, without thinking about the potential consequences of saying such a thing, and in a tone that was so completely flat it could indicate about anything. His eyes had landed on a woman that was walking past in a fur coat.

She looked rich.

He should probably go after her.

"Do you hunt? Lots of deer up there, no?"

"Rabbits, for the most part," he said. "I snare a lot and deer in a snare becomes too much of a mess," he said absentmindedly, the grey smoke dispersing into the air around him.
« Last Edit: 01/13/2025 at 15:09 by Samael Gray »

* Anneliesse Sauveterre

    (01/14/2025 at 04:33)
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Her coat was very soft indeed.

Anna had seen how the ladies who wore these sorts of things walked, and she tried to emulate that now. Strut, strut in the pair of strappy heels she'd lifted from Mademoiselle's wardrobe, after she'd taken the coat. She'd scuffed them as she hiked back up through Knockturn. Surely nobody would notice. Mademoiselle had dozens.

Behind her sunglasses and beneath her headscarf, Anneliesse looked around.

The coat fluffed up all the way around her face, the fur tickling her cheeks, and she paused a short way away from a bank of tables by a café to extract a cigarette case from her pocket-- a lady had the correct accessories-- and stop. She didn't have a light.

He was looking at her. The one in the boots, not the fancy one. She could tell.

It couldn't be helped. Anna didn't have a choice.

She stumped to a nearby table, faced away from the conversing men, and flopped into a chair. She turned.

"Please may I have some light." Anna held up her cigarette. "For my cigarette."
nam brevis in gelidas membris exilibus undas transitus est

* Jack Greenberg

    (01/22/2025 at 04:31)
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Jack elected not to respond to the comment on if he hunted humans or not. He accepted what he'd done in the line of duty, but it was never something he was proud of, nor was it something he was ashamed of. It just was.

Sam's comment about hunting was mildly interesting. Jack didn't know much about hunting, but even a layman understands that snaring a deer wasn't going to work well. At the very least the guy was going to need an enormous snare, if it was even possible. Regardless, it earned a good-natured laugh in response.

But the arrival of a well-dressed woman with a small scuff on her shoe shifted Jacks focus before he could comment on what the man had said.

Conventional wisdom said that all of them, including the woman, could light the cigarette with their wands. A simple touching of tips, a murmured charm, and that was it. In fact, it had been a fad in European high society at the tail end of the 19th century as a party trick before being declare gauche. Now, despite being the most effective method of accomplishing the task it would be rude to do so.

"Sorry, I don't smoke. Sam?" Jack responded, turning towards the other man genially.

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