(1937-11-25) Late Lunch at Farin Braw
Details for Late Lunch at Farin Braw
Summary: Veruca stops in for a short visit with Carmichael.
Date: 25 November 1937
Location: Farin Braw Restaurant
Related: You're Hired, House Warming Party at the Macnair Mansion.

Farin Braw Restaurant Diagon Alley
Fri Nov 30, 1937 ((Thu Nov 08 16:20:18 2012)) (A,2 NW)

It is a fall morning. The weather is warm and clear.

The Farin Braw Restaurant has every appearance of a pub that someone scooped up from a small Scottish village and plopped down in Diagon Alley. The entry door lets into a large room, crowded with wooden tables that are a bit scarred but are kept clean and well tended. Wooden chairs are surprisingly comfortable, because if you don't keep 'em in the seats, their money leaves with 'em. One wall is dominated by a long oak bar, polished to gleaming, lined with high stools for patrons who would prefer to be closer to the 'action'.

Things have been a lot more cheerful around the old, dingy Scotish restaurant that is Farin Braw lately. Every surface in the room has been meticulously cleaned and taken care of, aswell as every bit of memoribilia that hangs along the wall. Must be a woman's touch. Carmichael steps out of the kitchen after a short conversation with Georgina about how to make good soups and leans against the bar, picking up a newspaper to leaf through, as there's not much business to be had at the moment with everyone finishing up their lunches and heading back to work.

As two rather portly wizards head out into the street, a slender witch slips in before the door can close. In deference to the warmer weather of the day, Veruca's overcoat is unfastened, flapping gently about her legs as she walks. She hasn't visited the restaurant in a while, and the change in general cleanliness is noted. Not the the place was dirty before, but there has clearly been more effort put forth. Her steps lead her toward the bar, and the restaurant's owner. While she had seen him cleaned up at the Macnair affair, it's still a bit odd seeing him looking so different. "Mr. Carmichael," she offers in greeting as she nears.

Carmichael looks up from his paper and smiles to the woman, "Oh, hello there, Miss Max. Allow me to get your coat." He steps around the bar and shall slide it off of her arms if so allowed. He'll hang it on the nearest rack and say, "How is this fine day treating you?"

The courtesy does garner a lifted brow, but there is no protest as the gentleman helps with Veruca's coat. "Thank you," she murmurs. His question draws a smile to her lips, "Very well, thank you for asking. I do hope it is being as enjoyable for yourself and that business has been booming?"

Carmichael nods to the woman, "Oh, I can't complain, but sometimes I still do." He gives her a wink and steps back behind the bar. He smiles and says, "Oh, yes. Since the party, I've been garnering a new clientelle. Never thought I'd see the day when the upper-crust come to Farin Braw."

Veruca takes a seat at the bar instead of a table today, and her smile has a measure of warmth at the chef's news. "I must say, I'm delighted to hear that. A talent such as yours should not only be appreciated by many, but by many who can afford such quality." She pauses before adding, "The Macnairs are still raving about your spectacular dishes at the party."

Carmichael smiles at her and says, "Well, I put a lot of work into those dishes and it delights me to see that it paid off. How are the Macnairs doing? I haven't had words with either of them since the gathering." He does remember his role, though and says, "Would you like something to eat? Or perhaps maybe you'd like a liquid lunch?"

"They are doing quite well. I shall be helping to plan their holiday festivities soon, so I expect you will be hearing from the Mrs. and myself about that very soon." Although she's not particularly hungry, it would be nearly criminal to come to Farin Braw and not have something. "What is your special today, Mr. Carmichael?" Rue inquires.

Carmichael beams at her, those silver eyes lighting up, "Oh, what wonderful news! I shall have to begin planning the dishes, then." He straightens out his long, red coat and says, "As for the special, I've been working up a nice lemon pepper tilapia, if that would be to your liking."

Veruca nods, "That sounds wonderful." Opening her purse, she slips out her silver cigarette case, popping the clasp open and withdrawing one of the slender cylinders. "I am not entirely sure what Mrs. Macnair has planned for the family doing, but for the business party I give you free reign to prepare whatever menu pleases you. I have no doubt it will be spectacular."

Carmichael smiles to her and says, "The tilapia it is, then." He clasps his hands together and says, "Oh, Miss Max, I believe you're giving me too much credit. There are load of chefs out there equal to my skill. Hell, even the lovely Elly could give me a run for my money." He looks to the curtain that seperates them from the kitchen and says, "I shall return in a moment with your meal." He gives a dip of his head and marches back through the curtain.

The chef's modesty is met with a smile and a knowing gleam to her eyes, "Credit where it is due. While I'm sure the lovely lady from the Cauldron is a wonderful cook," she has eaten there, after all, "You seem to have quite a way with the crowd that Macnairs seek to impress." Yes, the food is excellent there, but fare from the Cauldron is a bit too 'common' for the purposes of impressing clients. As the wizard disappears into the kitchen, Veruca withdraws her lighter and sets flame to the tip of her fag, coaxing it into glowing red. Her things are deposited back into her purse, her little black book is withdrawn, and she takes a slow, luxurious drag on her smoke. She's been cutting down lately, so every one is an excuse to slow down and enjoy it thoroughly.

Carmichael is only gone for a few minutes, as it's bad form to leave a customer unattended at the bar. He reappears with a plate of lemon pepper tilapia on a bed of lightly buttered rice which he sets down in front of the woman, "You have a preference for a beverage? I'd suggest a sparkling white." He clears his throat and says, "The flaming baked Alaska wasn't too over the top, was it?"

In those few minutes, Veruca has been making notes in her book, and as Carmichael returns with food her attention rises and a smile is back on her lips. "And such attentive, speedy service." The cigarette, although it's only half finishes, is flicked easily away, disappearing with a soft pop. "A sparkling white would go perfectly, thank you." She leans toward the plate, taking in an appreciative breath of the delicious aroma. "The flaming baked Alaska was the perfect ending to the meal. I noticed many of the guests positively entranced by the flames." That odd little Bennington boy, for one.

Carmichael nods to her and reaches up to slide a bottle down from the wine-rack. He turns it over in his large hands, reading the label closely, "Ah, yes. One must never keep their customers waiting." He peers at the label and nods pulling the half-wedged cork out with his hand before leaning down to pull a wine glass out from under the counter. He splashes about a quarter of a glass in their and sets it on the counter, saying, "That one took quite a deal of preparation. Had to fetch a special little mix from the O'Shea woman."

Veruca takes up her fork in delicate fingers, the fish so well cooked that it just flakes apart beautifully without use of a knife. The first bite has the witch closing her eyes in appreciation, then speaking after she swallows, "Absolutely delicious, Mr. Carmichael." The second bite is on her fork, lifting to her lips, when a slight hesitation comes as the wizard speaks. It's barely there, and the bite continues on it's way. "Ah yes, the woman who owns the apothecary not far from here?"

Carmichael smiles warmly at her and reaches up to tip an imaginary hat, as his real one seems to have gone missing. He clasps his hands behind his back and says, "Ah, you know her? I hope she is in good spirits. I haven't had time to properly thank her for helping me with that dish."

A light frown clouds Veruca's face for a moment, despite the delicious meal and surprisingly charming company. "I am acquainted with her brother. I believe she has been a bit under the weather of late."

Carmichael frowns in return, "Oh, dear. I hate to hear that." He ponders for a moment. CAKE! "Excuse me, my dear, I shall return shortly." With that, he disappears into the kitchen once more.

A nod acknowledges the man's need to return to the kitchen, and Veruca, for not having been terribly hungry, makes quite a good dent in the meal in front of her. The frown on her face evens out as her thoughts wander, eventually settling into something of a musing smile as she finds a pleasant path to let her mind wander along. By the time Carmichael returns, her fish will be nearly gone.

Carmichael returns quickly after having fetched something, plated it, and wrapped it up to be put into a to-go bag. He slips back into the dining area and sets it on the counter, "Here, you said you know her brother. Make sure that this gets to her." It's a piece of desert that looks very similar to the baked Alaska he served at the party, with the fire still flickering under the wrapping. "Best wishes to her."

The eyes that lift to Carmichael are slightly surprised, but genuinely pleased. "How very thoughtful of you. I will make sure to deliver it to Keenan at the first possible chance, and rest assured they will know who has provided such a kindness." Which will hopefully be soon, thank you chef for giving her an additional reason. Dark eyes shift as a bell from outside signals the start of a new hour, and a regretful cast falls on her face. "I'm afraid I have to go for a meeting. Work is never done," she adds lightly.

Carmichael dips his head to her, "I understand. Do have a lovely day, Miss Max." He walks over to pick her coat up and will hold it open to receive her slender arms. Once all of that is done with, he will disappear once more into the kitchen.

Coins are slipped from her purse and left on the bar, ample to cover the meal and a very generous tip. The chef gets another thank you for his courtesy, before Rue retrieves her purse and the cake for Niamh. She steps toward the door, but pauses to look back and regard the wizard with a smile that holds more warmth than she is commonly known for. "Your new look suits you," she says simply. Then she takes her leave.

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