hogwash | (no subject)

Who: Theodore and Graham
What: GUY STUFF. Probably drinks.
Where: Notts, then possibly a bar or the flat for coffee or beer.
When: Closing time (great song), 19th
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Status: Complete

Theo gave a relieved sigh when he saw the last family leave his shop, and he turned to look at the shelves upon shelves of wands. It wasn't too messy tonight... and he was closing in ten minutes. Could he actually hope to close on time? Not if any snotty little children came in... but it seemed to be dying, even out in the Alley. He gingerly put boxes back, smiling softly at his own work. He had originally opened his wand shop to see if he could... and to get away from his disgusting excuse of a father. But he had found a passion in wand carving... it was therapeutic, and he decided, even after he had somehow killed his father, the way he took the life of Theo's mother, he would keep his little shop on Diagon Alley. The people were wretched, but the wands themselves... they made it worth it.

He started to close down his register, collecting the receipts and putting them in a folder under the counter, before he flicked his own wand, setting up the usual spells to make sure that no one but him would open it, or the money drawer hidden at his feet.

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The wicked grin that stretched across Theodore's face couldn't be stopped when Graham finally caught on, and he nodded at the order of getting a table with a smashing view. "Naturally." He drawled the word in an almost playful manner before he saw Jeanette move her way over to both of them, ready to seat them wherever they wished.

It was a bit obvious that this wasn't Theo's first time here; He wrapped an arm easily around the cocktail waitress's small waist and muttered something in her ear, causing her to blush and giggle when he pressed a golden coin into her palm. She smiled at him fondly before looking back at Graham with the same grin, saying politely,

"This way gentlemen."

He wasn't ashamed, really. A single, twenty one year old bachelor with a lot of money and no one to spend it on? He thought that his presence here was a given; It gave him a good time and that was all he needed these days.

He followed Jeanette to a table at the front of the stage, with a wonderful view, in Theodore's opinion. He sat, and gave the waitress an affectionate little pat on the backside before he leaned back in his chair, waiting for Graham to join him.

"Bring us a bottle of firewhiskey, love, would you?" His eyes moved up to Jeanette as he spoke and he was holding her hand, slipping a second gold coin into her palm before she smiled and nodded, hurrying off to fill his order. Money spoke in places like these, and service wasn't an option if you didn't have any. Needless to say, Theo never had that problem.

"This view good enough for a high class quidditch player such as yourself, Montague?" He flashed his friend a playful grin, before resting back against the comfortable seating. It really had been too long. "So what have you been up to?" His eyes occasionally moved to the stage, but he didn't seem too intent on watching. He had seen more of half these girls than what they flaunting in their tiny outfits, but he couldn't deny that he loved the way it looked when clothing was removed.

"Places like this have been opening up all over the place after what happened. Thank god." He idly lifted the poured glass that Jeanette had just set down, the rest of the bottle sitting in the middle of the table for them. "I think I would kill myself if I had to go to one of those places in London. Or anywhere else for that matter." What he meant, of course, was a place where he could be forced to watch a mudblood undress for him; the idea of it made his stomach squirm, and he quickly washed it away with a mouthful of whiskey.

Fuck, I really AM developing a God complex, he thought to himself as he followed Theo to their table, keeping his eyes locked with one of the less-made-up looking blondes. A waitress, who stopped dead in her tracks while balancing a tray full of drinks as she eyed up Graham. She was a girl-next-door type-- a simple, natural beauty-- which, very recently, has become his dish of choice. He'd pursue her later, he decided, and his attention turned to the more made-up (yet still incredibly arousing) witches on stage as he took his seat.

Why wouldn't he develop a God complex? In a few weeks' time, he'd be able to eradicate mudbloods, half-bloods, whomever the fuck he wanted from the planet. It was an added bonus that he barely had to look at a witch to know that she'd be his for the taking.

Theo's question knocked him out of his musings, and he kept his eyes on a topless brunette dancing a broom's length away from him. "Well done, Nott. Well done." Leaning forward, he reached for his firewhisky and took a shot, before lowering the glass once more to pour himself another.

"Just living the life of a professional athlete. I've got a top-notch flat in Falmouth. Quidditch practises thrice a week, matches usually once, maybe twice a week. Off the clock I'm usually going for a run during the day, pub-hopping by night. Usually alone, though sometimes a teammate or two will join."

He nodded in agreement. "That's why I'm hardly in London. Pubs just crawling with filth. Where are we, anyway? Does this... venue have a name?" For if he ever decides to visit again, of course, it would be far easier to apparate here if he knew what it was called.

Theo caught Graham eying Katrina from across the room and he smirked a bit but said nothing... that's what they were here for, right?

He watched his friend drink the firewhiskey and he kept a close eye on his reaction, before saying, "Good enough? They usually bring the best that they have here, but if you want something different I could easily get someone to run out and get us something." His eyes moved back on the stage and he smiled softly as one of the women slowly danced her way out of the little skirt she was wearing... Theo liked to think of himself as an artist. He appreciated the beauty of the (pure) human body. He appreciated it much more if it was between his sheets, but watching was good enough. For now.

He slowly started to look around the place, and his eyes flashed wickedly when he saw a nice, full brunette dancing slowly on another mans lap. He gave a slow, evil grin, before he muttered to Montague, "What say you to making this a bit more interesting?"

Nott took another hit of whiskey before he lifted a hand, summoning Jeanette over to them quickly before muttering in her ear. He would have fetched the woman himself but, hell, why do that when he could make other people do things for him? He watched the waitress move over to the woman and mutter something in her ear... and the brunette promptly looked over, at Theo, and then directly at Montague... and she gave a pretty smile before she started to walk her way over to their table.

Theo leaned over and said, in an innocent tone, "I'm sure you know that there's one rule, and that's not to touch." He smirked evilly when the woman suddenly pushed Grahams chair out so that she would have room to move on him. He then leaned back, obviously amused, and sipped his whiskey, watching everything unfold.

Just when Graham thought things couldn't get any more interesting, he caught Theo with that knowing look on his face and suddenly, one of the dark-haired dancers was standing over him.

"You're full of surprises, aren't you, Mr. Nott?" He mused aloud, taking his fourth shot of whisky as the woman danced above him.

"And what's your name, darling?" He asked airily, clearly not really caring what her name is. Her sparkly black garter belt/thong combination was incredibly flattering on her well-sculpted arse. Graham appreciated the female form in full, of course, but he was most certainly an arse man. He grinned at her name. "Ah, Raven..." Much like her hair color. How typical of a dancer.

She started slowly at first, teasing, but after a few minutes she was touching his chest, straddling him on his chair, pushing her tits in his face. She certainly wasn't shy; her hips were grinding quite purposefully against him, and he felt himself stirring with arousal.

"No touching," he repeated, a hint of bitterness in his tone. He'd never had a lapdance in public, one he couldn't turn the tables on and shag the daylights out of moments after.

His situation in his trousers grew worse as he spotted the plain-looking blonde waitress across the bar, images of last night's romp with Katie Bell fresh in his mind.

Theo couldn't help but smirk when he heard his friend muttering bitterly under his breath. He watched, in interest, as Raven slowly rubbed herself purposefully against Graham's lap, and his eyes slowly moved from his friends body to his face. He was obviously getting frustrated and the little sadistic voice in Theo's head started to laugh as he grinned. It was amusing... perhaps not for Graham, but certainly for Theo.

Finally, after it looked as if Graham couldn't handle anymore, Theo waved his hand and he said smoothly, "Alright, Raven, that's enough, don't make the boy's head explode." He paid her promptly and the woman bent down to kiss Graham on the cheek, before she walked off to another table.

Theo glanced over at Graham, trying to hide his smile behind his glass as he sipped before he muttered in a surprisingly smooth voice, "You keep looking at that blonde over there, I didn't know that was your taste." In Theo's eyes, the girl was surprisingly plain... but to each his own, he supposed. "You alright, mate? You look like you just got kicked in the stomach. ...Or the bullocks. whichever you prefer."