Who: Octavia Borgin and Kirby Catchlove
What: CRACK Afternoon innuendos.
Where: Esculentus (SAB I CAN SPELL IT NOW!)
When: Today, at 4

For someone who had been currently venting with one of his best friends about how inane their current Ministry was to implement such horrible acts that took away basic human rights, Kirby was in a considerably good mood. No, don't be silly, it wasn't because he had a rather (naughty) talk with a girl that he had kind of, sort of, dated back in school and off and on. Nah, that really wasn't it. He was hungry and was anticipating delicious food at one of the best restaurants he had ever been to, Esculentus. No, it wasn't because of the proprietor that he was heading over. The man was hungry and wanted quality food.

He entered through the fancy doors, making quite a contrast between dressed-up diners. Everyone was in their fanciest clothes, and he was in his casual wear. He didn't mind the stares at his beat up Converse sneakers, however, as he pleasantly requested the table he always sat in, the small one near the back. The maître d' had flashed him a dubious glance at first, but he in turn flashed his Galleons. Hardly anyone recognized him, which was just the way he liked it, although a young teenage girl dining with parents actually fell out of her chair when he flashed her a smile.

He was savoring a most excellent piece of bread when he heard footfalls behind him, and he knew that it wasn't his server. He didn't turn around but said aloud, "So, what's good here?"

There were few things Octavia Alexandra handled worse than surprises.

She couldn't, in all fairness, call this a surprise, but she certainly hadn't been expecting him to turn up here at this time of day.

But she couldn't lie to herself completely and say that it was a total turn-off.

With a purse of her lips, she watched him walk through the door, and settle in his-- in a-- corner, looking more comfortable than anyone had a right to dressed like that in her restaurant. Flouncing her hair with purpose, she strode to his corner and crossed her arms.

"How would I know?" Octavia asked, tone less "warm" and more "tepid," glaring at the back of his infernal head. "I don't serve here, for heaven's sake." She did, however, take a good look around and realize she was standing in the middle of her prized restaurant, and she had learned someone was always watching you, even when you weren't expecting it. Plastering a broad, press-release smile on her face, she murmurred, "But I could think of a few items that aren't on our menu which might appeal to you. Or which might benefit me to serve to you."

Kirby had to really fight to keep the huge smirk that appeared on his face whenever she came around, he really, truly did. Usually he was victorious, other times, not so much. He had to bite his lips, but was unable to hide it completely. "Well," he said, sounding for all the world a completely puzzled customer, "as the proprietor of this fine, fine restaurant, I would have thought you'd have a bit of sampling of the dishes, no?"

Gosh, it was always so much fun to rile her up like that. In Kirby's opinion, Octavia always looked stunning - but she looked even more gorgeous when she was either laughing or annoyed. Right now, she was the latter.

He turned his head slightly, his horn-rimmed glasses tilted down slightly as he caught Octavia's eye and held her gaze meaningfully for a long moment, and murmured back, "But that's a silly question, I know you've sampled all my dishes. I mean, I have served them all to you personally."

He turned back to facing his table, resuming his voice to a normal tone. "Another question I have about this fine establishment, if I may? I am curious about your hours. What time do you close?" To the casual observer, his questions were quite innocent and curious, but there was a naughty glint in his eye that his innocent tone could never hide.

There was something about this man that just infuriated her. He was younger, he was clearly more immature, he wasn't even a Pureblood! But if any of that had really mattered (just for this particular boy), he would have been immediately removed from the premises and she'd have washed her hands of him just like that.

And there he was, sitting smug as could be in his seat, totally and completely self-satisfied and urgh, this man! Not even a man, really, this boy. If Octavia kept repeating that to herself, she thought it would make her feel better.

It didn't.

Raising her eyebrows coolly while observing him and his infernal face--Merlin, few Purebloods could sit there smugly and look that--that, she couldn't even call him attractive, there was just this raw attraction that blinded her to all that was logical and sensical-- she looked at him disapprovingly.

"I hope," she whispered (or, more aptly, hissed), "you realize we're in a public area? Not just a public area, my working area? These people have only seen the best of me, Mister Catchlove, I think it would rather ruin my image if I grabbed you by the scruff of the neck and tossed you out."

Sniffing like her sensibilities had been wounded, Octavia looked carefully bored before responding in the appropriately blasé tone, "I'm working myself to the bone here, I have to stay until four in the afternoon, isn't that dreadful? I'd bring it up with my superior but, well," she flashed him a devilish smirk, "that would be me."

Octavia Borgin was not the type of girl Kirby went for. If someone had asked him what type of girls he usually went after (and many interviewers had tried), he would have answered, a cute, bubbly girl that was a ball of fun. However, Octavia was none of those things. She was older than him, sophisticated, a Slytherin, and three years older than him, and her personality was definitely less than bubbly. However, being the Ravenclaw that he was, he enjoyed being challenged, and he had never met another girl that challenged and intrigued him as Octavia did.

Oh, and of course, there was what they did when they weren't bantering. Over and over and over again.

With a small shrug of his shoulders, Kirby took another bite of bread, his voice muffled only slightly, and whispered back merrily, "The scruff of my neck, hmmm? Why, dear Dahlia, that's a new one from you!"

He checked his watch and turned around again to catch her eye, this time allowing a big goofy grin on his face. "Well then, I see that it will be four in about an hour and a half. Lucky that I eat rather slowly. Chewing carefully is most healthful for the digestive system, you know. You may send a server here now."

And there was that nickname, that infernal (she really needed a new descriptor for him) nickname that almost always made her lips twitch because they were fighting back a smirk. Octavia kept a nice handle on herself this time, though, and instead cleared her throat. "That's not the only thing you do slowly," she said, voice heavy with the double-meaning.

Sometimes, their conversations were only innuendos. Usually, they just convalesced into them. Sometimes, she didn't have to think and double-entendres just poured out of her mouth.

Biting her lip in a displeased manner, she said, "You do realize you'll be occupying one of my tables for a full hour and a half. You had better order something pricey."

Not that she had the widest selection for any entrees that weren't for those who hadn't formed an attachment with their pocketbooks, but it sounded more like a threat that way. With a signal of her hand a fierce look, Octavia signaled for her nearest waiter. "I do so hope you enjoy your meal, Mister Catchlove."

The big goofy grin still on his face, he nodded. "Thank you ever so much for your help, Miss Borgin. You really are a most gracious host, and I do appreciate every single one of your efforts." And just because he could, he ordered the most expensive items that would take the most time to prepare, which was just fine with him, and he leaned back on his chair, pushing up his glasses and subtly observed Octavia - or as he so happily called her, Dahlia - keep busy. He actually wasn't quite sure how his favourite nickname for her came up - he was quite sure that it stemmed from an argument they both had, and he had sarcastically called her flower names.

Four o' clock came, and Kirby was slowly finishing a glass of wine, the finest wine that the restaurant had to offer (and Octavia's favourite, which he had just so happened to remember). He still had most of the bottle left, and noted that most of the clients - who had come in for lunch - had drifted off, leaving Esculentus clear for their dinner menu. Excellent.

Four o'clock had actually approached much, much sooner than Octavia had thought possible.

She didn't actually have an idea of what to expect at four o'clock. That was what bothered her about Kirby as well, she could never pin down what was running through his head for certain. She knew enough of his personality, his thought processes, and all those, but it wasn't enough. When he leapt one step ahead of her, it never ceased to annoy the hell out of her.

Walking back to his table slowly, deliberately, she eyed him speculatively. "I do believe you've been sitting there for an hour and a half, Mister Catchlove. At least your one saving grace is your taste in expensive dishes."

Kirby gave her a slow, playful shrug, making his dark eyes as wide as he could in his best "innocent" expression. It was a facial expression that he used the most with her, actually. "Like I said, I chew slowly. Very good for the digestive system. Got to watch out for me health, you know." He actually didn't really have a plan of what to do with Octavia after four o' clock as well. Which was weird for him, who usually liked having this things planned out - he was always the one in the band who double-checked rehearsal and show times, as well as interview and appearance times. But then again, he always had been a bit of an usual Ravenclaw.

With Octavia, he preferred to play things by ear.

He gestured to the empty seat across from him, and reached for the bottle of wine nonchalantly. "I've got all this leftover, and I'd hate to see this wasted. Perhaps we can finish this here - but I would expect that you would probably be in a hurry to leave for home." Suggestion crept into his voice again - something that always happened, whether he intended to or not, whenever he was with Octavia.

This infuriating, infuriating, infernal man. Just because he was in a band, he thought all this just came to him with a snap of his fingers.

Well, it was never fun putting up a fight at this stage of the encounter. She was happiest when she got to use her nails.

"Darling, I may run the place-- to perfection, I might add," Octavia purred, raising her eyebrows, "but my desire to stay here after my shift gets off is nonexistent."

And this was the difficult part-- telling him his company meant nothing and she couldn't care less if she entertained his whims or not, but making damn sure her whims got satisfied. Octavia was certain he knew exactly what was going through her mind, but it didn't matter.

"Though I suppose if you had to come, I wouldn't object to bringing some work home with me," she added, looking at him suggestively out of the corner of her eye.

Kirby tilted in his chair and cocked his head, furrowing his brow. "Well dear Dahlia," he said slyly. "We wouldn't want you working too hard, now do we?" He stood up, lifting the bottle of wine by its neck. "But then again, we both know how much of a hard worker you are. You really can go on and on for quite awhile. While you work, I mean."

He extended an arm to Octavia, gesturing towards the door. "Shall we?" He didn't bother hiding the wicked smirk that had crept across his face.

That was one thing she appreciated about the man-- he made it so easy to pretend. Accepting his arm with a playfully naughty glint in her eye, she smirked. "If you insist, Mister Catchlove."

And it was moments like these that made her forget she had any issues with him in the first place.

As they both made their exit, Kirby leaned over to Octavia to whisper something so wildly inappropriate that it cannot be retold here. As he did, he slipped a ticket to tomorrow night's Hobgoblin show in her purse. Although she always denied it vehemently, there was always someone in the back of the crowd during their Hobgoblin shows that appeared occasionally - someone wrapped in a scarf and huge sunglasses. She'd show tomorrow, he was sure of it.

But in the meantime, it was high time that they took their fun and put their money where their suggestive mouths were at Octavia's place.