Smoky Night

[Gustav Girard]

It was easier for Gustav to relax in a place where he was king: like the Jinxed Truffle in Bordeaux, France. It was a English pub, surprisingly, but it was only his mother who was French: his father was English and it was easier to get female tourists if he could speak the language fluently. Naturally the best place to find them was their safe haven where they came to put away their translation books and to relax in the company of French gentlemen like himself. None were as well known as Gustav, who drew the ladies like a fire did fireflies. He couldn't have really called himself a king in a place like Beauxbatons. One was only king there if they were rich in both finances and friends. He lacked a latter, or at least the male kind. Luckily the Jinxed Truffle was a magical establishment. Gustav did not think of himself as blood prejudice, but he was a bit of a snob when it came to the quality of his girls. True, the muggle lasses dressed better, but the witches never had a bad hair day when they could afford it. Yet they were fools if they thought they could change him. Gustav was naughty, but not quite so naughty that the woman had no hope of defeating his fickle and spontaneous nature. Eventually they would give up and go on to better men. That was the way he liked it. He liked to keep his options open.

It had never occurred to him at any point in time that tonight would be the night he met just a bit of a life changer of a chick. Not even fate knew whether they'd spend more than a few moments together, but even a few moments was enough for Gustav to make his decision. The haughty, boyish eighteen year old turned his head ever so slightly as the door opened, then turned fully to watch who entered the pub. He watched her progress as he leant against the far end of the bar and continued to look for many moments longer. To some it might have seemed that he was lost in thought or contemplating introducing himself, but in truth it was a snap decision. The long moments had merely been spent transfixed and he'd only decided to approach in just half a second. Smirking, he sidled up to her table and planted himself down casually. The night was looking promising already.

 

[Zehava Brimital]

What do you think you are doing? Was Zehava's first thought as she opened the door to the pub. She had not had a drink in her life, and knew that it was best kept that way. But something, something strange, was drawing her in. Zehava looked around at the people in the pub, who were mostly men, and sat herself down at a table. She was hoping to be ignored, she didn't want to attract attention to herself. She ordered a lemonade, smiling that she had kept strong, and jumped as somebody sidled up next to her. She gasped without being able to stop herself. After everything she had been through, she was determined not to trust boys anymore.Zehava looked away, both hands on her glass of lemonade. To anybody else, it would seem she was playing hard to get, but this was far from the truth.

Zehava let her hair fall over her face. She didn't enjoy being so close to anybody. She felt tense and uncomfortable, and continued to look at the wall. She couldn't start a conversation with him, that could lead to something she didn't want. Or did she? No! Zehava yelled at herself, she didn't want another relationship. But she was going crazy without socialization, and felt left out from everything. Maybe this was her chance to talk to another human being for the first time in a month? Zehava gave a little shake of her head, and gave an almost inaudable giggle. She didn't know what to say, and hoped the boy would either leave, or talk to her.

 

[Gustav Girard]

Gustav watched the woman's reactions with a slight tilt of the head and a grin. She was ridiculously cute, but not just for the simple reason of aesthetics. Her mannerisms were endearing, especially when she gave the smallest giggle that seemed to be aimed at herself rather than him. He didn't notice that his mouth was tilted upwards to match his head until he spoke: then it blended into his speech.
"Ma chere Madame, what makes you smile so?" he asked in his soft, alluring French lilt. "Need I only sit to make you smile?" jested Gustav. Neatly he tucked the curtain of her hair behind one ear so that he could see her eyes. His hand never touched her skin so as to merely be polite and not forthcoming, but the gentle intent was clearly meant. Gustav wanted to make her smile again, and this time at him.
"Excuse me if I seem forward, but you seemed quite lost in a place like this. A lemonade?" he said, gesturing at her drink. No one who knew what they were doing in a pub would order a lemonade, especially if they seemed wary of company. What had brought her there? Whatever it was, he thanked the Lord for it. Lonely women were easy prey to his attentions.

Gustav beckoned discreetly for one of the barkeeps to fetch him his abandoned drink from the bar and they brought it despite protocol. It was the manner of the man that made one want to please him. Gustav sipped a mouthful of malt liquor from the half empty glass. Being in Zehava's company made it feel half full, since the night was only young. Smiling, he repeated himself.
"A lemonade for the English Madame? The beauty plays it safe." he commented. "Does said beauty have a name?".

 

[Zehava Brimital]

Zehava couldn't help but laugh when the man began to talk to her. She hadn't laughed like that for a long time, and she felt uplifted. She turned to face him for the first time, and realised how cute he really was. She loved his accent, it was almost comforting, but it matched his looks perfectly. Zehava smiled again, trying not to be enticed. She knew what he was doing, and she wasn't going to let it happen. As he pulled her hair behind her ear, she shut her eyes. He was flirting with her.
'Yes, said beauty does have a name.' Zehava said with a giggle. 'But you'll have to prove yourself worthy of knowing it first.' She added, feeling cheeky but happy. She had no intention of letting him flirt with her, until she realised that she was already flirting with him. She was out of reasons not to flirt. She was having a hard time. How bad could it be?
'Perhaps you should tell me yours first?' She asked with a sly grin, enjoying trying to frustrate him. 'I don't believe in ladies first.'
That was a bit of a lie. Slowly, Zehava raised her hand and pulled her hair back over her ear. She was facing him now, and had forgotten why she had come into the pub in the first place.

Zehava looked at her lemonade and shrugged gently. Looking back at the stranger, she looked straight into his eyes. She didn't like how cute he was. He was so irresistable, it was unbearable. She quickly looked back at the lemonade, blushing and hiding behind her trusty hair. She had not flirted for a long time, and that had led her to a baby, which she had now lost. In a split second, Zehava realized that she could not flirt. She had to put the important things first, and right now, the most important thing was Emma. But when Zehava looked back at the stranger, she didn't have the strength to say no, to get out of there whilst she was still sober. She willed him to ask her if she wanted something else to drink, something strong, but she didn't dare ask. She wasn't one for using men to buy her things, and this was no exception. Instead, she glanced at his drink, and then back at him in a cheeky way.

 

[Gustav Girard]

The woman 'refused' to give her name and Gustav wrinkled his nose cutely in mock chagrin. He hadn't missed her look towards his drink and he knew what she wanted, but it was extremely entertaining to watch her struggle with herself in an attempt to resist. In all honesty, it was Gustav who was finding her irresistible. Both cheeky and shy from one moment to the next, the lady was an enigma. He certainly wouldn't mind giving up his name in exchange for hers.
"Gustav Girard." he said, slowly and pointedly with a smile, rolling the 'r'. A wicked thought came into his head: who was he to not exploit it?
"I have heard it is the English custom to shake hands when you meet someone new," said Gustav, and with that he took her left hand from the table and clasped it neatly in his. "But it is the French custom to kiss." His flickered from charming to devious in an unguarded moment as he leaned in to press a butterfly kiss to her cheek. Yet all at once, he placed her hand back onto the table and leaned into his chair again as if nothing of significance had happened.

"What will you have?" asked Gustav, simultaneously removing her choice in the matter. No matter how his acquaintance might um and ah, he was not an indecisive person and he was determined to have his way. What he wanted was an evening with this young lady, with or without a hotel call. Even then, he looked to the barkeep and another malt whiskey was speeding their way and placed in front of her. Looking flirtatiously coy, he clinked his glass against her and raised an eyebrow as if to say 'Now whata re you going to do about it?'.

 

[Zehava Brimital]

Zehava loved the way Gustav knew what she was thinking, or guessed and got it right, anyway. But unfortunately, she had never drunk any alcohol. She kept her face calm, smiling as he kissed her cheek and then cheekily went back to what he was doing. She hated how he could twist what she wanted, making her think she wanted to get drunk, and flirt with him. She thanked Gustav quietly, lifting her glass. The strong smell of whiskey almost made her choke, but she did her best not to do that. Her face turned bright red in the agony of trying not to cough. She knew how people drunk these. They downed them in one. She knew it wasn't a lot to down, but wasn't sure if she could manage it without spluttering or gagging. And the fact her mother had always told her never to drink did not make matters any better. She put the glass to her lips, hesitating for a second, but not too long, before closing her eyes and tilting her head backwards. She was pleasantly surprised at how good it tasted, if a little strong. As the little bit of alcohol she had drunk entered her blood stream, she started to feel slightly warm and tingly. She felt as though she didn't give a damn what happened tonight, as long as it was good.

The empty glass in front of her made Zehava's face fall. She looked at Gustav. 'I'm Zehava.' She said softly. 'Another on me?' She asked, smiling gently as she ushered the bartender over. Soon enough, they both had another glass in front of them, refilled and waiting to be drunk. She gave Gustav a cheeky grin, enjoying the flirtatious tension between them. She hadn't felt like this for a long time, and she was beginning to realise just how much she had missed it.