Past Bedtime. [OPEN]

[Mordecai Caulfield]

"Just a bourbon, Paul," Mort Caulfield struck a match on the bar, holding it up to his tobacco pipe, "do you have the muggle kind? Wizards don't bloody know how to make bourbon. They think they do..." He trailed off, shaking out the match as he puffed his pipe. He hung a hand under the bar, his fingers brushing the fur of his dog, Joe, as he did. The massive dog laid quietly at the feet of his master, panting in the smoky air of the pub. It had to be early morning by now, and Mort usually didn't take Joe out when he was staying late, but he hadn't anticipated staying tonight. It just happened.

He cleared his throat, watching closely as Paul poured his drink. "Thanks," he said, taking a sip of his glass and setting it quietly down on the bar. He enjoyed the late-night scene at the pubs of the Wizarding World; the hum of conversation, the meandering feeling of people weaving in and out of downtown. Suddenly, Mort felt like adding to the night culture. He wanted to add to the hum. He looked around, his grey eyes stopping on a large shape covered in the corner of the bar. He looked back at Paul. "That a piano?"

Paul looked at the shape, then back at Mort. "Yeah."

Mort smiled.

The head of Accidents and Catastrophes stood up from his stool, bringing his bourbon with him as he crossed over to the shape. He carefully pulled the sheet off the piano, his smile growing when the dark wood of the piano seemed to glow off the lights of the pub. He sat at the bench, opening the keys. He carefully laid his hands over the keys, feeling the smooth ivory. He laid his bourbon on top of the piano. Joe padded over and laid under the bench. Mort looked down at his dog, took a puff of his pipe, and began to play.

[Mosrael//Ranna]

Ranna watched the pub, her dark eyes studying, weighing. She didn't come here to socialize or make meaningless conversation. This was another battlefield, another puzzle. She was here to seek clues, to perhaps find more willing to join her forces, and other such sundry errands for a dark witch.

She was beautiful, with black hair framing a pale face, slender build and wearing a corseted dress, tall boots and a black velvet cloak with a silver clasp at her throat. Many people were intrigued by her beauty and her apparent cheerfulness. But it her face, its pale, vulnerable skin, was merely a mask.

Her dark gaze focused on the figure of a man at the bar, a dog lying at his feet in a relaxed pose of loyalty. Then, as he stood and moved over to the piano, Ranna's eyes followed him. The rest of her body was still, as if made from porcelain, the drink on the table untouched.

She had to admit, he played the piano well, coaxing a pleasant tune from its aged wooden bones.

Porcelain changed to living skin as she stood, abandoning her post of observation and walked across the pub. Her feet were light upon the floor, she moved as though she danced. When she reached the bar and the dog looked at her, she put a mild coercive touch to his mind. Ranna had a way with animals, but loyal ones such as this could sense the trueself beneath. The dog may not like what it found behind Ranna's mask.

"A gillywater for me. And refill what this gentleman is having."

Ranna turned and watched as the man began to play.

[Mordecai Caulfield]

"A gillywater for me. And refill what this gentleman is having."

Mort tipped his hat to the woman as he finished his song, patting Joe on the head as he jerked up at the woman's presence. She was a pretty young thing, probably near his daughter's age. He took another puff of his pipe, blowing out a few smoke rings before thanking the woman "Thankyou, Miss." He nodded to Paul, tipping him a few sickles as the barkeep returned to his post. He ran a gnarled hand over the rough edge of the piano; he had taken a liking to the piano already, its rough, old exterior hiding the strong sound beneath. It was an old giant, weathered but still powerful. Like Mort, the piano still had a few tricks.

The wizard cracked his butter knuckles, popping his pipe back into his mouth as he started again. Joe seemed to calm as Mort continued his playing, the familiar sound of Mort's playing soothing the massive creature. Mort rocked along with the song, muttering the words under his breath as he played. His bowler hat was cocked forward, covering his face as he hunched over the piano. As the song came to an end, Mort glanced up at the woman. "Any requests?" He asked, arching a brow at her.