(1938-10-04) Gaelic Matchmaker
Details for Gaelic Matchmaker
Summary: Phil and Isobel have breakfast and discuss blind dating.
Date: 4 October 1938
Location: Leaky Cauldron, London

It has taken a while but Phil and Isobel have managed to sync their schedules and plan for breakfast on Friday the 4th of October. Still looking a bit tanned from her holidays Phil is seated at a table not too far from the bar. She has a book in front of her and is reading while she waits for her eccentric friend. Not that Phil herself isn't a tad bit eccentric; woman from a purist family collecting friends like Isobel, Graham and Laurence? She has to be a bit quirky. The Cauldron is a bit quite this time of day, not many people know the breakfasts served here are some of the best in London.

Flames amass in the fireplace of the Leaky Cauldron as a portal of the Floo Network opens up. Out of the fireplace steps none other than said Isobel, bare feet, navy blue skirt, and white shirt with floral patters knit along the seams. She lets out a little cough as she brushes dust off herself. "Well, there we have it then." She smiles a little and looks about, checking to see if she's the first or the last of the pair to arrive. "Aha!" She grins and starts toward the table. "Good ta see ya, Phil!"

"Good morning Isobel," says Phil brightly, pairing her greeting with a smile. She slips a scrap of paper into her book to mark her place and sets it aside. For some reason Phil is reading a muggle book called The Yearling. "I didn't order yet, but I was tempted. You look nice, I like that shirt, it is very Isobel."

"I'd've been tempted as well! Some mornin's I'm tempted ta not make m'self any breakfast an' just come here b'fore work." Isobel grins, winking at Phil. "An' thank ya. I wanted somethin' a lil flowery, but nae o'er the top." She shrugs ever so slightly, taking a seat across the table from Phil. "What're ya readin' there?"

"A book that a friend recommended. He is very into literature." Phil waves the server over and orders a large breakfast for herself; porridge, eggs, saussage, fresh tomatoes and fresh tomatoes as well as a pot of Earl Grey. She settles back to let Isobel make her order and then waits until they are alone again. "How is work? Keeping you busy?" Patting down her robes Phil pulls a little paperbag from a pocket and slides it over to Isobel. "I bought this for you when Laurence and I were in Turkey."

"Ah. Literate friends. I have one or two o' them from Ravenclaw." Isobel chuckles and looks up to the server as they come by. Once Phil has ordered, she orders herself a tradition full breakfast, and she lists off the foods to make sure they're all there for her: bacon, sausage, black pudding, baked beans, fried tomatoes, fried mushrooms, fried eggs, and fried bread. And then she orders herself a tea to go along with it. "Oh! Turkey. Aye. How was it?" She smiles. "Ya look wonderful, by the by. Like ya got some sun. Every now an' then I can get that dark, but it's nae easy in the British Isles!" She chuckles and shakes her head. She picks up the paperbag and starts to open it. "Well, let's see what we got here, then."

Phil just grins, she was a Ravenclaw herself all those years ago. If the size of Isobel's breakfast surprises her she doesn't show it. "Turkey was lovely. I really enjoyed the markets. That is where I found your present. I said to Laurence that I just had to get it for you. He agreed that it was the perfect gift." She watches, waiting to see Isobel's reaction.

"Is tha'…what I think it is?" Isobel seems genuinely excited about it. "A mini flyin' carpet?" She sets it up to start flying. "That's really keen! Is keen the right word? I heard a muggle sayin' it. Anyway. I quite like it. Thank ya so much!" She beams at the other woman. "I really want ta fly one o' these one day. Maybe if I take a visit out tha' way." She lets go, hoping to let it possibly fly on it's own for a few moments, keeping her eye on it to make sure it doesn't fly away. "Sounds like ya had a good time."

"I remembered you saying. We joked about it when we talked about travelling." Phil smiles up at the server when she brings their tea then turns her attention to pouring herself a cup using the pot she had been given. "We had a lovely time. The weather was fantastic. There were somethings," she says, nodding and shrugging a little, "political things that made it a bit tense at times but really we had a grand time. How have you been?"

Pouring herself her own tea, Isobel smiles and nods along as she listens to Phil. "Ah. Politics. Enough ta make anybody tense, I think. M'dad has a policy at his Inn: Leave the politics at the door." She shrugs. "Seems ta do the customers well enough when they're there." She offers a little shrug. "Oh, I've been fine. Just workin'. Lots o' paperwork this time o' year. Paperwork an' readin'. The start o' school year's always a bit busy."

"All those exam entries," muses Phil with a faint nod. She sips her tea and watches Isobel over the rim of the cup. "So," she draws out the word, "I was thinking I'd like to set you up with a good friend of mine. A nice dinner or drinks maybe. He's lovely, sinfully handsome though he is completely unaware of it. Ever so sweet and shy." Phil pauses, giving Isobel time to react.

"Aye. Exam entries. Updatin' exams. There's plenty to it." Isobel smiles a little and adds some cream and sugar to her tea, mixing it all in before taking a long sip. Except, just as she's taking the sip, Phil talks about setting her up with someone. She chokes on her tea and coughs, patting her chest to help clear it all up. After a few moments, after she has taken a few deep breaths, she speaks up. "Ya wanna set me up with someone?" She blinks and stares at the woman across the table from her. "I dunno. I'm sure he's plenty nice an' good lookin'…but I'm not sure, Phil."

Not sure isn't a firm no. Phil is an excellent negotiator, she would never get a source otherwise. "You might know him. He went to Hogwarts, graduated a few years before me. He's all alone. His parents died quite tragically while he was in school. I can't really remember it but I gather it was rather sad. He is an amazing artist, I think he tries to share his emotion that way. But his shyness makes it hard for him to trust women."

Leaning back, Isobel listens to Phil talk about this mystery man. "Is this one o' those times where you're nae gonna take 'no' for an answer?" She raises an eyebrow at the other woman. "What's this mystery man's name, if ya donnae mind my askin'. If I know 'im, I'm nae gonna know if I know him until I hear his name!" She says little smile.

With a grin Phil says, "This is exactly one of those times." She looks up as their breakfasts arrive and taking a napkin lays it over her lap. "Timothy Moody is his name, but he goes by Tim. He is a photographer." She starts with her porridge first, adding brown sugar and butter to it. "He was handfasted, which is some sort of Gaelic version of engaged I take it? Anyway, he was with this woman but she was incredibly young, a girl really. Fresh out of school. She up and ran off on him, completely broke his heart. So he started drinking and moping until I kicked his arse a bit. Now he's fine but even more reluctant about women. That little bitch dented his confidence. I'd give her a black eye if I ever saw her again."

Isobel doesn't place the napkin on her own lap, but she keeps it handy just in case. "Moody…Moody…Timothy Moody…Tim…" She chews on her bottom lip as she thinks about it for a moment. "Oh! Aye, Tim Moody! Gryffindor lad, I think he was? Good lad, he was. Quiet, though, from what I recall." She nods. "Aye. I think I do remember him." She takes a forkful of fried beans and sends them into her mouth. Once swallowed, she speaks up again. "Handfastin'. Aye, I've heard o' it. It's nae so popular any more. Least where I'm from. Though it still happens in a rare case. Man an' woman live together for a year, an' if they're still amicable after tha' year, they get married for good." She nods. She sighs and shakes her head, though, at the tale of woe regarding Tim. "Tha's just terrible. Can't have been easy, if he cared for her. You sure it'd be good for me ta go with this fella?"

Spoonfuls of porridge can be fortifying, not that Phil needed food to spur her on in this matchmaking enterprise. "I am sure. You are just what he needs Isobel. Even if it doesn't click romanticly then you have both made a new friend. He needs to get out more and meet new people. He just goes from work to home and while his house elf is adorable he is a house elf. Tim needs to be around people." She grins as she pauses, spoon mid-way to her mouth, "Besides I love the idea of his accent and your accent together. He has a proper Irish accent."

"A house-elf, ya say?" Isobel attempts to hide a coy smile. Does that mean she wouldn't have to do house work any more? Not that that's a reason to want to go out with a person. "Oi, with the accents. It's like when people hear my mother an' my father speakin'. One Scottish an' one Welsh! It's like they cannae believe the accents combined!" She laughs. "Fine. I'll give 'im a try. I'll nae bemoan it, either!" She gives the other woman an impish grin.

Phil hides her smugness well. Mainly because she is busy eating. "He was excited by the idea of meeting you, so I am glad you agreed." She takes a sip of her tea and pushes her empty bowl aside then pulls her plate over and teasingly says, "And I didn't even have to tell him your name. I just said you were fun and bright and Scots and that you were quirky and my friend."

Isobel grins and shakes her head, eating away the food on her plate. "Well, I'll be happy ta see him. Even if we barely knew each other at Hogwarts, maybe it'll be good ta have at least a somewhat familiar face." She says softly. "Quirky? Me? Ne…" She looks down at her bare feet and her outfit. "I'm a muggle-born witch tryin' ta look 'normal' in wizardin' society. It's nae easy, ya know!" She teases the other woman, as she bites into a tomato.

Phil laughs, "I didn't even think about your feet when I said that. I was thinking about your love of scotch and your wit." She cuts up a bit of egg to go with a bit of sausage and eats, happily, in companionable silence for a few minutes. Nothing but the soft clink of cutlery and crockery coming from her end of the table.

"Well…I do love scotch. Do ya think it's too early ta order one?" Isobel jokes, finishing off the tomatoes on her plate. "Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure." Murmurs the examiner. "Somethin' I believe Rowena Ravenclaw would've liked. But alas an' alack, good ol' Helga Hufflepuff got me instead. Along with tha' jolly Fat Friar. He was always good for someone ta have ta talk to, tha' ghost." She thinks back to her school days. "So, do ya suggest I tread lightly around 'im?"

Phil chuckles. Wiping her mouth with her napkin she says, "I think you should just be yourself Isobel. You are an amazing woman and a lot of fun. Clever. Inquisitive. I think Tim will enjoy your company." She reaches for her tea. "If I am honest I did not mention your shoes, or dislike of them because I had long stopped thinking about it. That is just part of who you are and you are my friend and I enjoy your company." A grin turns up a corner of her mouth. "Not many would stand up to Isemene Black."

"Well, I'll wear shoes jus' ta be on the safe side." Isobel says lightly. "B'sides, I keep a spare at my desk. Occasionally work determines I should be wearin' shoes." She grins. "Well…thank ya. I enjoy your company as well. "Ismene Black?" She furrows her brow. "OH! Was tha' the woman tha' one night who was all sorts o' unpleasant?" She tilts he head and smirks. "Was I standin' up ta her? I thought we were jus' havin'…'polite' conversation." Though there is a twinkle in Isobel's eye.

"I envy you sometimes. Half-bloods and muggle-born. You aren't forced into this stupid cliche of kowtowing to the older generation of purists and ever watchful lest they see you doing something even slightly untoward." Phil stabs a slice of tomato with her fork. "I've been sent a summons by my parents. They want to know what is happening with my relationship. I have been putting it off for a while but I can't do that anymore. Lineage must be preserved after all."

"Oh, don't be so generous with your envy. We're all the same, in the end. Even if the those o' the purist persuasion donnae see it." Isobel smiles. "We've all our strengths and weaknesses. I'm nae one ta envy. I'm doin' the best I can with what I was born with. Jus' like you are. Jus' like any witch or wizard, despite lineage. Jus' like muggles are without their magic" She moves around her food for a moment before continuing. "If anythin', I feel sorry for the purists. Bu' I'm nae one ta judge. As long as they donnae try ta belittle me or harm me, I'm nae one ta get in their way." She lets out a little 'huh' of amusement. "Are your parents of the purist kind? Ya know…ya could always try ta find a muggle-born an' see if it works out with 'em." She grins and shrugs.

"They are purists yes. The Rowle's are one of the sacred twenty-eight." Phil doesn't often speak of her family this way, but she spends a while talking about the pressures of growing up with social expectations and the constant push to marry and breed more purist children. However, she is then depressed and switches the topic to discussing a funny story about how she and Laurence spent one night on their holiday staying in a brothel of all places. By the time her story is over she is happier, her stomach is full and she is content to leave Isobel and face a day at work.

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