(1939-01-10) Job Performance
Details for Job Performance
Summary: Guy and Shelley discuss recent developments in the life of a mutual acquaintance.
Date: 1939-01-10
Location: Leaky Cauldron

Guy is lounging at one of the tables, his cap off, and sitting on the table before him, and his uniform 'covered' by the greatcoat, although given that has his rank insignia on the epaulettes it's questionable whether it covers or extends it. He's also got a pint of beer.

Shelley strides in through the door, glancing around on her way to the bar to order her usual drink. It's hard to miss guy - his Muggle RAF uniform standing out like a beacon. An eager smirk breaks out on her features at the very sight of the man and so, once her firewhiskey is delivered, she invites herself to his table, slipping comfortably into a seat beside him. "Hello again."

Guy lifts the glass in salute, and takes a sup. "Miss Prewett, if I recall correctly?"

"Nailed it," Shelley agrees, lifting her own glass. She points the index finger of the hand holding the whiskey as she lapses into thought. "And you're… Mister Grosvenor, right? Cohen been giving you anymore flack?"

Guy corrects slightly, "Squadron Leader. But yes." He shakes his head slightly, "Not seen him. But that's fine. I won't worry about him unless he draws a wand."

"Squadron Leader?" Shelley repeats, her brow furrowing. "That sounds awfully impressive - but also rather fussy. How about /just/ Grosvenor, huh?" she suggests, before drinking from her glass.

As for the talk of Graham, she puts a thoughtful look on her features. "Would he draw on you now? Hrm…" There's just the slightest of emphasis on the word 'now.'

Guy gives a little shrug, "I have no idea. On the other hand, I will feel comfortable drawing on him, if he does. And it's Guy, then, for a beautiful young lady."

"I'm not much for first names, as a rule," Shelley responds. "If Squad Leader I must, then Squad Leader I shall." She drinks from her glass again then adds, "If it comes down to it - try to just shoot him in the knee, or something of that nature. He'll probably have earned it."

Guy gives a slight nod, "Grosvenor." There's a faint smile, "You didn't deny the beautiful bit. And I was planning on a -touch- higher than the knee.

Shelley snorts, still not commenting on the 'beautiful' part. "I'm afraid to ask just how much a 'touch' would be for you. Ah well - it's not like it would alter his performance… as an auror."

Guy lifts his pint again, one little finger cocked up (presumably to show how well bred he is). Then it wiggles, in diminutive.

"He's going to be unusually tetchy these days you realize - at least where Lee is concerned." Shelley's brow furrows as she adds, "Or had you not heard yet?"

Guy's brow lifts, "Heard? Heard what?"

"Well, perhaps Lee wished to share the news herself - it would be simply /dreadful/ to ruin the surprise…" Shelley is drawing this out, just for the sake of it.

Guy takes a swig of his beer, "Her boyfriend has finally worked out what goes where?"

Shelley snorts in amusement. "At the very least, he's figured out that the ring goes on the finger. It's a rather impressive rock, too. What happened /after/ he put the ring into place, though - well. I wasn't indelicate enough to inquire."

Guy looks at the woman in surprise, "So you know? I mean, that despite her moving in with him, she's not a Fallen Woman?"

Now it's an outright laugh. "I've never discussed the intimate details of Miss Lee's life - though I see you have. Can't say I care much either way, as long as she can do her job." She finishes her whiskey, then gestures for it to be refilled.

"Though whatever comes now - they've given it at least /some/ gloss of legitimacy."

Guy gives a faint smile, "Good. Good, about bloody time. Girl like that, pining for a bit of affection."

"I've met the man in question, though - he fell apart at the pressure of having a /house guest/ come over." Rather ridiculous - even if she was unannounced and uninvited. "Can't imagine how he could possibly… /perform/ under the far greater pressure of a far more intimate situation."

Guy ahs, and nods, thoughtfully, "Ah. Greek love, instead you mean?"

"Greek love?" Shelley asks with incomprehension, her glass held up towards the server who was refilling it for her.

Guy is almost sprayed by firewhisky as the server straightens up, looking startled, and retreats to a safe distance. The RAF man dusts a few drops off his coat, "It's difficult to simply explain." he says.

Shelley looks after the server, then covers her face with her hand, letting out a quiet snort. "…I'm not even sure I want to know."

Guy doesn't enlighten her then, simply taking another sup of his beer, and waiting, expectantly.

When Shelley straightens, she takes another sip of her drink before adding, "I have decided that I like you, Grosvenor. You really don't give a damn, do you?"

Guy raises his glass, "About Wizardly rubbish? No. Not in the bloody slightest. All a pile of manure." And then he waits until you take another sip, "It means the act now known as buggery."

"Oh for-" Shelley begins, before letting out another laugh. "I didn't get the impression that Mister Odori has that as one of his particular… quirks, but who am I to say? I've only met the man twice."

Guy says, "I mean, why he hasn't taken advantage of the willing yet, you see."

"I think he's just wound too tight. He falls apart at the slightest pressure. Perhaps he simply can't perform?" Shelley shrugs her shoulders, then finishes her glass and rises. "Afraid I have to go, though. Grosvenor." She nods her head, before turning to go.

Guy raises his glass, "Do join us later!"

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