"Night, boss!" rang a chorus of Damian's staff as they made their way out the door with their things. Damian rolled his eyes good naturedly and shut the door behind them. He hated it when they called him 'boss'; it was such a stuffy title and it didn't match the relaxed and kicked back atmosphere that was the atmosphere in the small gastropub.

As he waved his wand to get cloths to start wiping down the tables, he kept a steady eye on the darkening streets outside for a familiar blonde figure. Once he saw that things were going smoothly, Damian busied himself wiping down the liquor and spirit bottles behind the bar counter. Damian had acted annoyed first when Skye had started showing up regularly close to closing night, but gradually he had let it go choosing instead to go with the flow. It was weird to have Skye suddenly back in his life, but Damian wasn't really complaining; she was more or less keeping his social life alive inbetween his crazy work schedule. It didn't help though that he was pretty sure that he was starting to develop feelings for her in the process.

He let out a groan and stopped cleaning as he remembered some of their previous nights together. Damian leaned his head on a pillar cursing the fact that his blushes showed so easily. Things had almost gotten out of hand. Sure, they had gone on a few casual dates together - coffee and the like, but their nights together had lately consisted of drinking and well, one thing led to another. Luckily, Damian had always stopped things before they went too far and Skye had been good natured enough to understand his situation. He wasn't going out with Hazel; heck he didn't even know where he stood with Hazel, but he knew that he still had some feelings for her. Normally, he would have talked to his friends about this, but they were all still in a tizzy getting ready for Aurelia and Hugh's wedding, leaving Damian to mull over the feelings himself.

"Merlin...Woman are going to be the death of me," he muttered into his hands. A drink was looking mighty fine right about now.

Having just finished a job and intentionally skipping dinner in order to fully appreciate a meal prepared by her very own – dare she even think it – manslave, Skye coolly walked home in the darkness of 2AM, wand tucked neatly in the pocket of her cream coloured blazer. After reaching her considerably large loft, she rushed up the stairs to her bedroom and changed out of her work clothes, not wanting to appear too formal. On went a graphic tee, a baggy plaid shirt, and black skinny jeans, and off she was to Diagon Alley.

Although a witch, Skye quite liked manual transportation. If she had a choice between riding a bike and travelling via floo network, the bike would win. The weather was quite placid – stars shining bright in the sky, the moon brilliant enough to cast shadows from trees and buildings – so she decided to walk. It wasn’t terribly far, and she was running early. The blonde allowed to let her mind wander as she passed under streetlights, choosing to take main streets and keeping her arms folded neatly across her abdomen, her fingers tracing the contour of her wand stowed in a pocket sewn to the inside of her plaid shirt.

What kind of food would Damian surprise her with tonight? She was craving potatoes, or any kind of tuber. Yam fries. A vegetable stew? Stir fry was starting to sound amazing. Although the establishment that Damian owned wasn’t necessarily the most high-end kind of place, the food was definitely amazing.

As was her private company.

Skye made her way through the pub, tapped the stones, and stepped right into Diagon Alley. In the distance, she could see the low-glowing lights of the Red Hawk, and a figure through the window looking quite animatedly in despair or confusion. Really, Mien? What’s wrong? She cocked up an eyebrow as she quietly made her way to the window and placed her hands on the glass, peering in as if she was a child looking at grand Christmas displays at a toy store and making sure to smile warmly once his attention was on her.

If he didn't sense that someone was the window, Damian probably would have started hitting his head against the pillar. It was a good thing the tealights were glowing softly casting just enough light to cover the flush of his cheeks because his cheeks flared up again when he realized that it was Skye at the window. Exactly how much of that had she seen? He made his way quickly over to the door in a few strides and motioned her in trying to play off that he hadn't been lamenting, in his mind, a pointless problem. Added stress that he just didn't need or want for that matter.

"You know, normally when people are late and miss their reservations, we give their table away to someone else," Damian commented with a bit of smirk feeling his blush fading as he stepped aside to let the blonde inside. He knew that her schedule sometimes made her run late, but just because he knew that didn't mean that he let her off easy. He had become a bit of an insomniac, but he didn't mind much if this was the reason. It wasn't much of a change anyway from when he had been trying to get the gastropub up and running. The biggest difference, was that with a steady staff now, he knew he could show up a bit later in the afternoon to help with the rush allowing him time to sleep in in the morning.

After she was inside, he locked the door after her and made his way behind the bar where his chef's smock as hanging. Expertly, he grabbed two glasses from below the bar and set them in front of them as he went about deciding what they would drinking tonight with her meal.

"Long night? You know I live for your fascinating stories, Spence." He shot her a teasing smile over his shoulder before turning back to the wall of bottles. Damian knew that calling her that would bug her and that's why he did it - that and he had to get her back for calling 'Mien'.

Skye watched him slowly turn, spot her, and move towards the door. Was something up? Perhaps he was simply fatigued from her visits. Staying up late probably wasn’t the best for him, working so hard and all – she figured that much, and had cut down her nightly visits down to two or three times a week over the nearly three years she had been frequenting. “Aww, mon petit porcelet, you wouldn’t leave me out in the dark and the cold and let me go hungry, would you?” She noted that the piano was playing some pretty gloomy sounding music; almost like something you would hear at a funeral, or narrating a sad and emotional scene in a cheesy daytime television drama.

She followed him to the bar and took a seat on her usual stool. The piano continued to drone on. “You know the line of work I’m in. Schedules can be incredibly unpredictable. And if you didn’t want to hang around for me, you totally could have sent Ed to meet me at my house with a message.” Her eyes wandered to the large wall of liquors behind the bar. “Not really any interesting stories tonight, Mien…”

Really, it wasn’t anything special – no hikers happening upon a dragon, no unicorn sightings, not even a flying car or a young wizard attempting to transfigure his pet cat to impress some muggle friends. The job was pretty vanilla. All she had to do was find a homeless man that apparently had seen “a man point a stick at a pile of logs and set it on fire!” while squatting in a hut in the woods. It was a quick fix, but it took an unexpectedly long time to find the man.

Skye’s attention turned to Damian, who had set down two glasses. “How about you, Mien? Anything interesting happen here at the Red Hawk tonight?” she smiled impishly up at him. “Looks like something’s on your mind.”

"What and miss the chance at seeing your face?" Damian replied with a laugh trying to ignore the piano that was droning on in the background. He pointed his wand in the direction of the piano in an attempt to silence it, but it was in vain as it only seemed to make it play at an even louder volume than before. He winced slightly; it was a charming accent to the gastropub, but honestly, he sometimes wondered why he had accepted the thing from his aunt, who in hindsight now, had seemed almost relieved to be getting rid of the thing. It had a habit of playing when it wanted to, and it seemed to play the worst things at the most inappropiate times. Case in point, right now. Pocketing his wand, he gave a shrug. "Knowing Ed, he probably would have brought you back some sizeable rodent along with the note. Figured you wouldn't want to clean up after that after a long night's work."

As Damian turned back to the wall of bottles, his eyes fell on an unopened bottle of white wine that a friend of the family's wanted him to promote. He had only just gotten the shipment in today and had yet to sample it himself, but he had heard raves about it from his grandparents who were the wine experts. Knowing that Skye was more than happy to try anything he made her, he grabbed the bottle figuring he could pair it with some sort of Asian dish, stir fry maybe. Midthought though, his fingers fumbled and he barely caught the bottle before it hit the ground when Skye asked him if something was on his mind. Damian coughed and laughed, trying to play off his near accident before turning to face Skye. It was almost unnerving how she could read him like that. Most people couldn't except for those select few and whether he liked it or not, Skye was one of those people who could.

"What makes you say that, Spence? You know that I've never got anything on my mind besides the gastropub. Speaking of which, you wouldn't mind a stir fry tonight, would you? Been meaning to try this white wine, and it would go well with it probably..." The piano in the mean time had picked up the mood and had begun to frantically play a flustered, embarassed sounding tune. Damian couldn't help but make a note to see into trying to fix the thing, or at the very least get a new one.

Assuming that ‘seeing your face’ was meant as a compliment of some sort, Skye gave an impish little smile. Said smile grew larger upon witnessing Damian attempt to silence the piano, resulting in the increase in the piano’s volume. Considering her field of work, and the fact that she excelled in any type of wand magic (including but not limited to charms, hexes, and transfiguration), the young woman could have easily shut the old piano up. However, she quite enjoyed the billowy, acoustic sound of the ancient instrument, and enjoyed its attitude (outing Damian’s feelings) even more. She held back a little giggle.

“Aw, I do love presents… I don’t get nearly enough!” she responded quickly in regards to the possibility of a rodent being left at her door. She had always wanted a pet cat in her youth, having thought that it was adorable when animals brought presents to their masters – even if it was a dead rat. That dream was never realized though; her father was extremely allergic, and Jared probably wouldn’t get along with a cat.

“Watch out, butterfingers!” she half-shouted, lifting herself from her stool slightly. It was a reflex kind of thing; one of her arms extended forward slightly as if she would have been able to reach the bottle before it hit the ground (yeah right), and the other was over her concealed wand pocket (so that the mess would have been easily cleaned up – if there was a mess). She reseated herself once “That label looks like some fancy pants, moustache, monocle and three-piece-suit-wearing calibre wine!”

“That’s why I say that – something seems off. I’ve never seen you fumble with a bottle of alcohol… excluding instances when you were nowhere near sober.” She folded her arms on the bar, resting her weight on her elbows and leaning forward slightly. “Stir fry and white wine sounds delightful! Are you reading my mind or something, Mien?” she smiled wide, letting out a small laugh. The last time she checked, he wasn’t a seer. Being a Seer would have been convenient, though, given that Damian probably wouldn’t tell her what was wrong unless she poked and pried and poked and pried, and under normal circumstances she would have already started. Tonight however, she was a bit tired from the past few days of work, and wouldn’t put a ton of effort into bugging the truth out of him.

Skye looked him straight in the eye. “You and I both know that I can play games and eventually get you to accidentally tell me whatever secret you’re trying to keep… What’s the matter?” it wasn’t the most graceful or convincing way to try to get someone to confide in oneself, however, Skye was never the most graceful person in the world.

It wasn't that Damian was horrible at charms, oh okay, he was bollocks at charms, but he had a few of his staff who were absolutely superb at them to try their hand at silencing the old piano only to fail. All the customers though had commented on how it gave the gastorpub character, and Damian was a sucker for what his customers wanted. He shot Skye a look upon seeing the wide smile on her face but was thankful that she was gracious enough to not right out laugh at him.

"What, Jared doesn't go out and bring you back crackers?" Damian asked dryly. He had long gotten used to Ed bringing back dead rodents. It had admittedly taken a while for Damian to train him to not leave them in his bed, and he had gotten the hang of it, instead depositing them on his bedside table. "Tell you what; the next time Ed goes out and brings back a rat or two, I'll send him over to your flat instead." Damian couldn't help but give Skye a cheeky smile, "Since you love presents and all."

His smile was quickly receeded to a sheepish one upon her comment, choosing to her comment about his skills with the bottles of alcohol. Damian motioned to the bottle, letting her get a better look at it, hoping to divert attention away from his little fumble, "We just got it in today; friend of grandparent's who're trying their hand at the wine business." Damian twirled the bottle around so the label faced him and he gave a shrug of his shoulders, "Grandad says that it's good, so I'm going with his word - he's the wine expert after all." Damian supposed that the was perk to having relatives in the food business: they knew people and they had connections coming out of their ears which meant that it was all the more beneficial to Damian and his little gastropub. A little smile played on his lips when Skye let out a laugh and he gave her a wink in return. "Perhaps. But if I did have mind reading skills, they would have been nice in Divinations, ya know? Maybe I wouldn't have been so terrible at the course."

When his green eyes met her blue ones, Damian had to resist the urge to look away. This was how their confrontations usually went; one person prying away not bothering to tip toe around the issue until the other one cracked. As blunt as he was, he didn't like it when others did that to him, but a part of him appreciated it when people dear to him did that. This was one issue he wasn't ready to tread on with Skye though especially considering she was part of what was on his mind. "Nothing's wrong, Spence. Just a bit tired, that's all," he replied with an easy smile as he moved to grab his chef's apron and setting down the bottle. "Let's get started on that stir fry, yeah? You coming?"

"Nope, I haven't had any such luck," she responded, fiddling with the bottom hemline of her plaid shirt. She looked up at the wall of alcohol. "Jared doesn't like the outdoors. He's a big fat homebody," her eyes fell back onto Damian, and the bottle of wine. Wasn't he going to pour her a glass?

Skye raised a brow suspiciously when he insisted that all was well and nothing was wrong. Oh - nothing was wrong? Nothing?! Yeah right! She could tell by his body language, his insistance to keep off the topic - seeing as he would automatically tell her if something simple, such as an annoying customer earlier in the day, was still on his nerves, and the enchanted piano's obscurely somber and nervous melodies. Dead giveaway. Something really was on his mind, and Skye would definitely have to pry it out of him. Perhaps the alcohol would help?

Deciding to play it cool, she pretended to shrug it off.

"If you say so, mister grumpy-pantaloons!" she tossed a peanut from the nut dish on the bar at his head, and while his guard was down, reached over and grabbed the wine bottle from his hand. With a grin, Skye grabbed a bottle opener and hopped off of her bar stool, skipping backwards towards the kitchen entrance.

"Quickly! You might want to get to the kitchen before me, for fear of me burning this whole establishment down!" Her smile grew as she slowed to a halt once she felt the swinging door on her back. "You're running out of tiiiiiiime!" She attached the opener to the bottle and began to twist the screw.

"Yeah, sounds a bit like me except I spend all my time here," Damian replied with a laugh even though it was the truth. He had been spending more and more time at the gastropub but for whatever reason, even he couldn't seem to come up with an explaination as to why he did. "Drag him off to work with you next time. He could be like you mascot or something."

It was almost unnerving whenever Skye looked at him like that. He normally didn't have a problem with people looking at him. Ever since the whole press for the Red Hawk had gotten pretty big, Damian had no other choice but to smile for the camera and people. It was only a few people that he always felt uncomfortable under their gaze, and, unfortunately, Skye was one of them. Thankfully, Skye saved him the effort of having to come up with something to say as she swept off towards the kitchen, grabbing the bottle from his hands. "Pantaloon?" Any sense of awkwardness before hand quickly dissolved as he burst into laughter. "What are you, an eighty year old woman?"

"Oh, you bloody hell better not!" Damian retorted as he strode after the blonde. He knew that she was kidding - anyone would be able to with that grin on her face, but Damian still moved with a purpose towards her. "You'll be paying for it out of your pocket, Boutin! No more free drinks or meals for you!" In mere seconds he was in front of her and he grabbed the hand that was on the opener and gave her a cheeky grin. "I wouldn't want to see a pretty face like you go hungry, so I really suggest you don't try your luck."

"Puh! For an eighty year-old woman, I've got a bangin' body!"

When Dame caught up and held her hand - well, more like manhandled her hand - she couldn't help but notice how little space there was between them. His breath was hot on her face, and she felt her cheeks get a little warm with a slight blush, hidden by the dim lighting. Her eyes flitted from his bright green eyes, to his hand on hers, and back up to his eyes.

"I could always use my obliviating skills to make you forget what happened. Blame on on something else... perhaps the a-a-a-a-a-alcohooool," her lips formed into a dimpled, toothy smile as she used her eyes to motion towards the bar. "I can't afford the debt, Mien. Imagine how poor I am, having to come to you for nourishment so often!"

He was so close: it would have been so easy to just lean forward and plant a little kiss on his cheek, or lips, or neck, or collarbone, or... Skye had to force herself not to let her mind wander. Her smile faded slightly; focus! Her cheeks felt cooler, a sign that her blush had died down enough to not be obvious in the bright lights of the kitchen. She pushed her weight back on the door, snatching her hand away from his and pulling the cork out of the bottle. Taking steps backward into the kitchen as the door began to swing back in Damian's direction, she behaved rather unladylike (it really was a common occurrence) and took a swig straight from the bottle.

"Come on, this pretty face is getting hungry!"

Battle plan: get Damian drunk. It was the easiest way to get information out of him, short of using charms and magic. She held the bottle at an arms length in his direction, waiting for him to come through the door.

Damian almost had to restrain himself from blurting out a reply to that statement. The thought of it almost made him blush, but he quickly hid it with a roll of his eyes muttering a sarcastic, "Yeah, whatever."

His mind wasn't so much on how little space there was between them. Not at first at least. It took him a moment to register what Skye's eyes were flitting back and forth between and he figured it must have been his grip on her hand which he went to loosen only to realize that, no it wasn't that. The lighting in the pub may have dimmed, but it was still enough to catch the faint blush colouring the blonde's cheeks. The in turn, was enough to get his blush started up again. "Well that just makes you and just about every other wizard and witch in Britian, now doesn't it?" He gave her a smirk even though his blush was still there. "That just makes you one of the lucky ones."

His weight pitched forward slightly when Skye left his grip and he caught himself before he hit the floor. "Oiii, watch it!" It was too late though. He knew from the get go what she was going to do, and his predictions had been right. Things usually went that route when the two had their little meet ups. "Ever think that other people might end up drinking out of that thing? Don't want them to go catching your germs, ya know?" It was all said with a good humoured laugh in his voice though because these nights with Skye were honestly one of the things that Damian looked forward too. Pushing his way past the doors and into the kitchen, he reached out a hand towards the bottle again.

"You're supposed to drink it with the stir fry, genius. Hold up on that until I make it, yeah?"

A bewildered look came over Skye's face when Damian mentioned other people drinking from the bottle. Her head tilted to the right. "Really, Damian? It's delectable! And as I recall, we usually end up polishing off more than a bottle." Slowly but surely, her lips formed a little smirk. "And if for some reason we don't finish it, it doesn't matter! Whoever drinks from this bottle will be super lucky, since they'll be pretty much getting a kiss from me."

She retracted her arm, taking another short swig of the white wine before extending it towards him again. "I think you're the only one worried about me having cooties. You're being ridiculous, I mean its not like we haven't swapped spit before." And it was true, seeing as the two had shared food on a plate, dipped chips in the same bowl of salsa, shared a bottle of alcohol, and perhaps even shared a few - or several - drunken kisses (who knew?).

Skye let Damian take the bottle from her hand, and turned her back to face him as she made her way over to a cleared off counter. She hopped right onto it, planning to watch Dame make food for the two of them whilst perched on that spot.

"Come on, taste it - like I said, its delectable."

"Yeah, your germs are exactly what I'm worried about," Damian said with a teasing grimace and a laugh as he chose to ignore that comment about the two polishing off more than a bottle. He didn't know why he was shying away from comments that he usually wouldn't have on a regular night, but he supposed it could be owned to the fact that there was simply too much on his mind that particular night. His smile quickly formed into his own smirk, however. "And who in their right mind would want to kiss your mouth, huh? I wouldn't exactly call them 'lucky'..."

He accepted the bottle from her hand and took a quick swig from it giving her an impish grin before conjuring a cork and placing it in the bottle. After swallowing it Damian paused a moment, considering the taste and the aftertaste just like his grandfather had taught him. It probably would have been better if he had savoured it, but with Skye, taking things slow didn't actually seem to apply. "Nothing short of top notch from my granddad’s. Pretty sure he never meant for people to drink from it like this though." He placed the bottle on a nearby counter before washing his hands at the sink and getting to work. The pots, pans and ingredients needed for their stir fry appeared on the counters and Damian set about chopping up the vegetables.