(1940-06-03) Steak and Kidney Pie and Leaky Soup
Details for Steak and Kidney Pie and Leaky Soup
Summary: Dinner time at the Leaky Cauldron. Special tonight is Steak and Kidney Pie. Soup Special tonight is Leaky Soup (Cream of Lemon Soup).
Date: June 3rd, 1940
Location: The Leaky Cauldron

Leaky Cauldron

It is a spring night. The weather is warm and overcast.

Stepping into the Leaky Cauldron is a bit like standing in two places at once. As the doorway between Muggle and Wizarding London, this establishment strives to maintain a cheerful air of welcome and conviviality. Wooden surfaces are clean, brass is polished to a bright shine, and the smell of great food and even better beverages wafts through from the kitchen and behind the bar. The owners of this wizarding establishment have clearly gone to great lengths to create a hallowed neutral meeting place where politics are kept polite and fights are not permitted. However, despite all the enlightened neutrality, the technology and substance here is all Wizarding. There are floating candles and lanterns, wizarding beverages, wizarding food. There's a table or two of wizard's chess and an enchanted dart board up against the far wall that alternates colours and even shifts the bull's eye around.

Tim holds the London door open for his wife. He takes a deep breath in once they are both inside and gives Annie a wide smile. "Now that is a smell worth leaving the Hogwarts Banquet for." Emerald eyes peer about the pub for a vacant table, or perhaps a familiar enough face with two seats to spare. It is clear that he's a well trained husband as he holds out his hands to help hold any purse, hat, scarf or other feminine accessory as Annie gets settled in for a dinner out.

Tim's smile is returned as Annie looks up at him, noting to his observation, "It's more th'company that I've come for." He can be called to work at odd hours, and she takes her share of weekends at school, so any time they get to spend together is a treat for Annie. She tugs the scarf from her hair, tucking it deftly into her purse and giving Tim her hand instead of any belongings. "Fair crowded t'night, but it always is when the steak and kidney pie is on," the young Mrs. Moody observes as she looks around as well. But Tim's more elevated vantage point usually gives him the better lay of the land. "Maybe near the fireplace?"

There is a squeal from the kitchen and doors don't swing open as the first exiter is small enough to duck right under, the near two year (1 Year 6 months) old boy comes toddle-running finally out around from behind the bar and seeks out a table to hide under. Elly comes playfully rarring out of the kitchen the doors flapping behind her. Or at least it mostly looks like her. She has black olives on her finger tips. Two pomegranates threaded on some buchers twine and wrapped to her forehead so they look like a pair of large eyes. A mop of seaweed over her honey hued hair. Some black berries look like they've been juiced and rubbed with toddler fists on her cheeks and lips. Proof that this monster costume is his own doing, "Squidge" Jack Jr. has stained hands of blackberry purple and pomegranate red. He is also flagging around a bit of seaweed and has one olive on his thumb. Seems like they were having entirely too much fun in the kitchen. The swinging of the doors strobe like reveals Eve in the kitchen watching her big sister and her nephew with beloved annoyance as she is left to tend the soup stirring and pulling out of the pies when they are ready.

Did someone say "fireplace?" Beckett emerges with the customary accompaniment to all floo travel, moving to one side and dusting himself off with an admirably fastidious attention to detail. He looks to the door into the wizarding neighborhood, but as he sniffs once and looks about - at the fare on the tables, mind, not at the /people/ - he moves instead towards the nearest unoccupied long-table. He shakes his head, though with a slight quirk of the lips, at the staff's family antics before edging onto a spot at the bench with a polite nod towards the nearest fellow diners.

Tim hmms and squints through the crowded pub. "Looks like we could squeeze in." He gives Annie's arms a little rub, "Cold?" He takes up her hand with ease and lifts it up to kiss her knuckles before leading the way to the table by the fire as it's just been vacated. When someone emerges from the fire he momentarily step between it and Annie, protecting her from soot mayhap? A little nod of greeting is given to Beckett as he passes by. The chair furthest from the fireplace is pulled out and he awaits Annie to sit to help scoot her in. "Did yee wish soup as well love?"

The door leading from Diagon Alley opens, and Shelley steps in, wearing a light cloak over her robes. She glances around - and starts to make her way towards the wall, where she usually sits, when her gaze lands on Beckett and she pauses, considering, her eyes still on the man. Hrm. After thinking for a few moments - she makes her way towards his table.

There's a brief shake of Annie's head as she replies lightly, "No, I just like fireplaces." She grins at Tim, then pauses her step as the Irish wizard lets someone pass. Annie only gets a good look when Beckett's settling, offering a smile to him with a greeting of "Evenin'." Taking the seat pulled for her, Annie smoothes her robes, not having yet changed after work. "Oh yes, please, Tim. I'm a fair bit peckish t'night."

Beckett catches Annie's look and smiles back politely, but his glance moves up as Shelley approaches. His eyes narrow and his lips purse in thought, before his expression suddenly clears into a half-smile. "Oh, it's you. I barely recognize you when there's decent light. And no broom." He nods at the bench opposite him. "Join me if you like." He appraises the condition of Shelley's face; he doesn't seem to be sniffling anymore, at any rate.

Tim mentions to a wench, that is quite busy, not wishing to make a thing of their order. "Just two specials and two soups as well. Two Bungbarrel Spiced Meads as well please. Thank yee." The wench nods and goes to place the order. Just as he was sitting down, there's a toddler climbing crawling over his chair and up over the back of an empty booth. The act looks a little precarious so the irishman helpsthe lad over and makes sure he gets safely down. His white shirt is now quite stained, but he's smiling as he sits back down after flicking off a bit of seaweed. He reaches across the dinner table to take his wife's hand again and they quietly discuss how their day was with each other.

There's nothing left of the scratch to her cheek - healing salves made quick work of it. Shelley pulls out a seat, dropping into it with a sigh, before propping one foot up on a spare empty chair. "Rare to see me without a broom - I'll grant you that," she remarks. "Anymore late night excursions for you?"

"Took a break after catching cold." Beckett looks to catch the eye of Elly or anyone else waiting the tables tonight. "A break from flying, anyway. I'm sometimes at Tasseo until they politely kick me out." He looks back at Shelley. "You? I feel it's polite to ask, but a 'no' would surprise me." There's that half-smile again - left corner of his mouth only.

Shelley lets out a faint huff of amusement. "I've been out," she confirms. "It's a rare night when I don't. It really has to be storming out." Or she has to be trapped at work.

Elly makes sure to clean up after her and her son's wake of staining mess. It's easy for her with a few cleaning spells in her book of expert spells. Jack has settled down sitting next to one of the regulars. The Regular gives Elly the 'He's fine here.' nod and she is smiling down at Beckett and Shelly through the mop of seaweed that's on her head and from underneath the two pomegranates that are strung to her forehead to make her look like some big eyed monster. Quickly the black olives on her finger tips are snacked on and she is ready to greet those at the long table. "E'ry'fing alrigh' 'ere my loverlies? Get anyone anyfing?"

"I'll have the pie, and something stiff to drink. Your choice," Beckett says, smiling winningly up at Elly. "You won't steer me wrong, will you?" To Shelley again, more quietly, he continues, "There's so many better things to do than sleep," he says to Shelley. "I'm not sure why it's so popular."

"Firewhiskey - just bring a fresh bottle, and a pair of glassses," Shelley answers Elly. "And a second pie," she adds. She gives the man across from her an amused look and nods in agreement. "It catches up with me sooner or later, though."

Elly mother, cook, midwife, UNITY supporter and wench gives a knowing smile to Beckett, "Wot's sleep?" She nods to the orders and gives them both a warm smile. Though when the pomegranates strung about her forehead slide and hit over her eyes she gives a surprise, urgle sound as she quickly moves to take them off while others at the community table also give off their orders. "Aye. Sure, sure loverly. Coo tha sounds like a loverly pairing…"

Tonight seemed like a good night to go to the Leaky Cauldron for a hot meal - Mrs. Lavigne was quite tired from work and wasn't up to much cooking, so it was all Mr. Lavigne's idea, really. So here it was that the family of three entered into the warm, crowded pub, squidging past a few of the ones standing near the door and finding a place at one of the long tables, Mother and Father on one side and son on the other. Their daughter, Maddison, was currently at Hogwarts finishing up her third year.

"Oh, steak and kidney pie," Celeste crooned with a nudge to her husband, pointing at the specials board. "I'm sure you'll have some of that." She knew her husband and his hearty appetite all too well, which Justice admired, the sentiment showing by a warm grin aimed in her direction. "Right you are," he agreed, nodding to his son, Alex. "I'll bet you'd love some of that, too, wouldn't you son? You've got a man's taste, like your dad." Alex just smiled sheepishly and looked down, a bit out of sorts around so many people. Crowds made him nervous.

"I think I'll try the Leaky Soup, myself," Celeste mused, having a hankering for something warm and light. Her husband nodded his approval, and he waved over the serving wench to let her know they were ready to place their orders, releasing a good-natured grin at her bizarre attire. He appreciated the good humour of it all. "I assume you'll be wanting butterbeer, my love? And some cold pumpkin juice for Alex," he added on with a smile.

"You need a little, sure." Beckett grants that with a shrug, grinning when Shelley orders a whole bottle of firewhiskey, a grin quickly masked. "Do you drink more safely than you fly?" Beckett is wearing a decent straight-man face, though his eyes and eyebrows give the game away.

"I'm just about as reckless at both," Shelley remarks flippantly. She glances a bit uncomfortably at the smile child that sits nearby - at least he's attended - and then looks back at Beckett. "Obliviator, wasn't it?" she asks - despite knowing the answer perfectly well.

Elly moves to remove the mop of seaweed from her head and it is shoved into the medium sized pocket of her apron where it vanishes completely without a lump left in sight. The pomegranate eyes are similarly shoved away a clean rag is pulled from the same pocket to wipe her face clean. It must be enchanted because her face is completely clean of the berry juice staining her cheeks and lips. Off at his corner booth with his Regular babysitter Squidge makes a cry of protest. He worked so hard on his mummies costume! But some Yorkshire Pudding quiets him pretty quickly. Yes, the Regular knows her son so well. "C'min righ up me darlings." She coos to the happy family and then before every order goes right out of her mind she bustles off to the kitchen to make sure everything gets started. Mick receives the drink orders from Elly and he's quick to fufill them. Sending the drinks out via Elly's little wench helpers.

The family smiled and thanked the helpers when they received their drink orders in record time, Alex sitting and sipping his pumpkin juice with an uncertain glance around. His father nudged his knee underneath the table, making the boy look up in time to see his father give him a quick wink and a smile. "Nothing to fear, son.. We're all right here with you." When Alex seems to be at least somewhat reassured, Justice takes a quick look around, seeing no one immediately familiar - but, being the friendly sort that he is, turns to his left and extends a hand to the man sitting next to him (Beckett). "Justice Lavigne, how are you," he greets him with a sincere smile. "Out with the missus, I see?" he questions, eyeing Shelly with a playful nod and a chuckle.

Beckett nods to Shelley, pouring each of them a few fingers of firewhiskey. "Yes." He is about to raise the glass when he is caught by Justice, at whom he switches tack, shaking his head. "No." He looks the family over so it's clear he's addressing all of them when he says, "Beckett Titus Nott."

Being called a 'Missus' earns Justice a chillingly cool glance, as Shelley's fingers tighten around the glass just poured for her. "Not bloody likely," she remarks, seemingly not caring if such harsh language might not be welcome with a child present. The exchange has completely derailed her train of thought, now.

Justice nearly chokes on a laugh at the man's flat 'No', his expression tensing slightly at the woman's reaction - he didn't allow that sort of language at home. "Mister Nott," he acknowledges Beckett's introduction with a curt nod and a slight smile, not bothering at the moment to inquire the woman's name. He was still reeling from her crassness. But a soothing hand on his arm calmed his nerves a bit, and he gave his wife a grateful smile and a small nod. "I apologise for making any assumptions," he says to the woman, turning his attention back to her. "Might I buy you a drink to make amends for my rudeness? But of course, if one buys another a drink, it is only fitting that they know their name.." Justice liked to set a good example of gentlemanly behaviour, especially in front of his son. He didn't want him to grow up learning any bad habits.

Beckett gives Shelley a cool look at the sharp dismissal of the notion she might be married to him. A man has his pride. But he instead returns Justice's courtesy. "Might I inquire as to the names of your family, Mister Lavigne?" He clinks his glass lightly against Shelley's, whether she raises it or not. "Cheers." He takes a good swallow of the whiskey, which makes his nostrils flare.

The look Beckett gives her gets a snort of amusement. Yes - inadvertently insulting a man is funny. She does clink glasses, though, before taking a drink. "I think I'm set for drinks," she answers. "And it's Shelley." It's easy to mistake the name for a family name - after all, who would name a daughter Shelley?

Justice smiled and nodded his acknowledgment at Shelley, looking at Beckett with a slight "Oh!" and chuckling a bit. "This is my wife, Celeste, and my son, Alexander. We have a daughter as well, at Hogwarts," he says with a warm smile. It was clear that he was a family man, as shown by the pride on his face. Alex ducked his head shyly and Celeste gave a small wave, her hair sporting the same bright red shade that her son's was and laying in a loose braid over one shoulder, her skin also very fair and lightly freckled. It was clear whom Alex took after. "How do you do?"

"Pleased to meet you both," Beckett says to Celeste and Alexander. "I am well. Nice break from the showers tonight, isn't it? Good flying weather - outside the city, of course," he amends quickly. No one here would be crazy enough to fly over a Muggle area where they might be spotted, would they? "I am an Obliviator with the Ministry - which Miss Shelley was just speaking of." He looks back at Shelley, seeing if she wants to continue her thread.

Yes - she was, wasn't she? Shelley takes another drink from her glass as she tries to decide if she does want to continue her threat of thought - somehow this family being involved in the conversation makes it less appealing. "I was simply wondering if you would consider tutoring in mind-related spells," she says a bit circumspectly.

Elly personally brings out all of the orders she took and prepared in the kitchen. With beaming smiles she delivers each plate to the person that ordered it. All special orders done to request and she has a memory for remembering who's ordered what so there's no shuffling about of plates. Baskets of Yorkshire Pudding is put in the middle of each table and they are still steamy and warm. "Ay ye go my dearies. Feast well! My girls will be at your beck-n-call iffin ye needs anyfing. I needs to take the Squidge upstairs to bed." She points over at her son that's laying against the Regular with a bit of drool running out of his open mouth.

With food finally in front of them, the Lavigne family is just distracted enough from the personal conversation of Beckett and Shelly, each hungrily digging into their meals - this might allow them to continue in peace, without too much worry of eavesdropping where there shouldn't be. Alex, however, heard the word "mind-related spells" and his interest was piqued. 'What sort of mind-related spells?' he wondered, but a warning eye from his father told him not to get involved or push the matter. This was enough to get Alex to focus on his food. He knew that his father sometimes told him more in the privacy of their home, so maybe he would still get to learn about it.

Alex took the question right out of Beckett's mouth. From Beckett's expression, he's glad the boy did, because it would be far more awkward to avoid the query from the Obliviator's mouth. "Yes. The tricks to the job are not trade secrets, just-" His eyes move in Alexander's direction, though he doesn't turn his head. He chooses a word he might be less likely to know: "-perilous. Which I doubt fazes you, but there are few spells worse to have-" He sighs slightly. "-excessive complications with." He looks at Shelley and mouths 'backfire.'

And the complications would be particularly bad in Shelley's case, Shelley has no doubt. She taps her finger on the side of her glass, before setting it down, and pouring a little more whiskey into her cup, and Beckett's. "I'd be interested to learn," she states simply, and takes another drink before finally digging into her pie.

"I wouldn't mind some cross-disciplinary work myself." And Beckett eats his food as well - just shy of daintily.

"I might be able to give some pointers," Shelley concurs. "Though I'm better at transfiguration than charms." She's not a dainty eater - she takes large bites, and she doesn't seem afraid to talk before having swallowed the last of it. Not ladylike at all.

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