(1937-12-12) Jetlag
Details for Jetlag
Summary: A very tired Jacqueline just wants a drink.
Date: December 12, 1937
Location: Leaky Cauldron

It is late at the Leaky Cauldron, well past the Witching Hour, and well past last call. The chairs are up on tables, and everything has been wiped down and mopped up. Another successful day of business has eased into the quiet torpor of night, when the Cauldron becomes a place of rest, and a thoroughfare for the rare witch or wizard making their way to or from Diagon Alley.

Reece is lingering late tonight, for while his normal duties are long over with, it is during these early morning hours that he can get some peace and quiet to work on the various potion-enhanced brews he provides for the Cauldron's drink menu. He's commandeered part of the kitchen, where he's got a large pot of something bubbling.

Only back in London a night and she already can't sleep. Jacque isn't thrilled about it, but that is life. So, instead of her normal business suit, she slipped on a pair of oversized black flood slacks and a matching black silk shirt, both tucked under her pea coat that tries to look run down, but all of her is simply too elegant to really pull it off. She pushes the door of the Cauldron open, ducking head inside. Still open indeed. A slight smile tugs at her pink, unpainted mouth as she moves up towards the bar. "…Anyone home?" She calls across the counter, middleclass accent sounding quite at home in a place like this.

Hearing a voice out in the main room, Reece checks the heat on the brewing potion, inhales some of the fumes, and nods approvingly. He puts the lid on the pot, and steps out of the kitchen to stand behind the bar. His lips spread into a broad, easygoing smile. "Good evening, Miss," he says in a relaxed, breathy tone. "Late night, or early morning?"

A few casual pops of the buttons on her coat, exposing the dipping neckline of her shirt and a few other valuable… Assets, Jacque leans up against the bar and gives him a half smile, "I…I know it's after hours… but what does a girl have to do to get a proper drink around here?…I could use it, really…" She admits to him, voice husky and hopeful, trying to sound more awake than she feels but there is a certain strain behind her eyes that says she hasn't been to bed yet.

Reece gives her display an appreciative smirks, but keeps his eyes respectfully on her face. He leans on the bar right across from her on cross arms, and shrugs apologetically. "Last call was an hour and a half ago. I'm sorry. Though, I suppose it really depends upon what you mean by a 'proper' drink. Something to settle the mind and help you sleep, mayhap?"

"…. I promise you… Cross my heart, just got off a bloody plane three hours ago and need a damned drink… Promise you I am not an inspector. I'll pay… tip. It'll help me sleep. Please?" The redhead asks him quietly, a hopeful smile on pink mouth and a few messy locks of crimson falling down across her cheek as her head tilts to the side. "And you know what I mean. Proper. Strong." She's careful to not actually *say* alcohol so neither of them risk getting in trouble.

Reece's brow lifts in a sympathetic sigh. "The boss is fairly strict about the rules. But I may have the next best thing." He takes down a glass, twirling it in his hand before setting it with a light *thunk* before her. Taking up two bottles, he shakes one while the other pours a thick red liquid into the glass. Then the other squirts fizzy water in, mixing with the red for a pale, pinking formulation. He holds up a finger to quiet any questions as he unlocks a drawer beneath the bar, and produces a few tiny vials. Each contains a different coloured liquid, and each is labelled with tiny lettering. First, he dabs in a violet dash of Euphoria. Then comes a deep blue drop of Relaxation. Finally, just a tiny bit of springtime green Sweet Dreams. Putting the vials away, he slides the drink toward her. "On the house."

"Oh… you… You don't have to do that, luv… I can pay. Just… needed something…" Jacque looks less than thrilled at the fact he's not giving her booze, but she also doesn't fight the matter. She just sighs, slipping the rest of the way out of her jacket and folding it across the back of a bar chair before she slips up into sitting there. Curving legs cross, the rest of her frame as hour glass as she is up top… She then reaches forward and picks up the glass, taking a sniff at it. "What… is it?" She asks before downing a good sip.

Reece opens his hand, gesturing as he names the ingredients. "Seltzer water. Cherry currant syrup. Plus some potions of my own devising. Don't worry, nothing extreme. Just a few drops of Relaxation Draught, Euphoria Elixir, and distilled Sweet Dreams. Consider it a simulation of a 'proper' drink, along with something to help you sleep well tonight. Very mild, I assure you."

Her red brows arch in slight skepticism, but Jacque lofts her drink in his direction for a silent toast, and she knocks back a good gulp of the stuff. A small sound, almost like a purr, in quiet approval echoes a heartbeat later and she sinks her back into the chair, sliding hips forward, legs still crossed. Her best attempt to look relaxed. "Not too bad for not being proper… and you might be…?" Her pale eyes flicker up from the drink to the dark man's handsome features.

Reece permits himself a moment of pride at the compliment, bowing his head. "Reece Jones, humble barman, Miss…?" He tilts his head curiously, turning the question back toward her. He takes up a rag (because all bartenders always have a rag within arm's reach) to wipe up a few spilled drops of seltzer water.

Petite, soft hands linger around the glass, nursing it quietly though she's half emptied the thing already. A tired smile lingers on her mouth, not moving from her feline, slumped position. "Strathcona… Jacqueline Strathcona. But… Jacque is fine. They always keep you here in the unholy hours of the morning?" That husky voice comes asking gently, respectfully. As if his presence might be an appeal this time of night.

Reece chuckles, giving her a noncommittal shrug. "Not necessarily, Miss Strathcona. Sometimes I stay later than usual to replenish my potion stores or work on a new brew." He glances back to the kitchen, inhaling the scents from within. "I find the quiet comforting, actually. Not unholy at all. Quite the opposite. These hours twixt eve and morn are full of profundity and enigma, if one cares to seek them out."

"How so?…I seek them out often, but I see a lot of lonely hearts and troubled minds more than… Profundity, in truth. I'd be curious to hear the other side of this witching hour…" Jacque asks that earnestly, curious and a bit more relaxed, probably due to the potions touching her drink and her own exhaustion. Jetlag will get everyone eventually. Still, her pale eyes never pull from him.

"What draws those hearts and minds to these hours, if not the stillness in which the universe lays bare its secrets?" Reece replies, offering more riddles. "What could be more profound than the longing for love? Or the yearning for understanding? Those people are on a quest, even if they don't realize it."

"mm… you give humanity far too much credit, dear Reece. Sometimes the mind just isn't good at shutting down.. Not everyone is profoundly longing for love. Some people are just horny fuckers, you know?" Jacque states with a half laugh, a little, wry smile pulling across her mouth. "And yearning isn't usually about understanding. Just as much can be about forgetting. Humanity is, on the whole, a lazy species of often times cowards. Sometimes heroes. But not often."

Reece chuckles, leaning up to the bar again. "All true, but not contradictory to what I said. An evening of lust can be a piece of heaven, sometimes stronger than the purest love. A drink from the River Lethe might be just what a mind needs to gain clarity. It's true that I have tremendous faith in humanity. I don't expect everyone to be heroes and poets. Rather, I find that every life is a series of powerful experiences. I only hope to help others to open their eyes to the possibilities within their own existences."

One last gulp is taken of the drink and she sets down the empty glass, pulling a silver sickle out of her back pocket and resting it on the bar. Drink payment and tip, or just tip, she's leaving it there before she stands up. "Well… I… I'll keep that in mind, Mr. Jones. I hope humanity doesn't kick you in the ass some day and show you how truly… vicious it is. Not enough nice men like you out there any more." She gives him one last wink and shrugs back into her coat. "Think I might be on my way, before the drink wears off… You have a good evening. Thanks again." One small salute and she's heading for the door.

Reece responds only with a knowing smirk, a dip of his head, and a soft, "Good night, Miss Strathcona. Blessed dreams."

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