Apartment shopping

Britain.. the place where she would now be living. It felt weird.. knowing she would only be heading back to her families house on holidays, or on her days off, instead of living there. Not that she minded much, they weren't exactly nice to her anyway, so she wasn't all that concerned about it. The only problem was, was that they had pretty much forced her out on her own with a bit of money, and that was it.. she had her stuff, and for the time being, she was staying in the Leaky Cauldron, working days, and finally, she had gotten her first paycheck, and was going to find a house to live in. All she needed was an apartment, a place to put her stuff basically.

Selene glanced up at a building and sighed. This place looked pretty nice, so upon entering the building, she was directed through a network of people, and then finally sat down in front of a seat where she laid out the grounds of her lifestyle, promised not to break her tenant, and was walking out of there with a key to her new house. So.. where to go next? She had an apartment.. she had a home.. she needed to move, but that could take a bit anyway, she didn't have much, but what she did have was all stored at the Leaky Cauldron.. soo, time to celebrate! Selene marched over to the nearest resturant, and ordered something nice for herself, she had been sparing on the food intake lately, knowing she would need all the money she could save, and she didn't keep any extra food on her at all, she got what she needed, for when she needed it, that was all. So she sat outside on the sidewalk, eating at a nice table with an umbrella, looking around, happily, knowing it was possible to meet other Wizards here, because she was just down the street, to the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron.

It is common knowledge that muggle food is less appealing to a sensitive palate than food made by wizards; there is a bit of a spark in the food that is made by the tip of a wand. In comparison, muggle food tasted quite plain, or flat, and often left Paris feeling dissatisfied with his meal, but with business slowing down and a stomach that required feeding, Paris did not exactly have enough money to be complaining. For months he’d settled for microwavable meals, as well as the food that was made by a muggle restaurant across the street from the Leaky Cauldron, and for someone who’d grown up eating French cuisine and learning new ways to keep his taste buds pure, settling for such food was torturous. It was for this very reason that Perry had decided to sit down for a meal at the Leaky Cauldron for once, though he was well aware of the fact that, in doing so, he was putting himself at the risk of being made incapable of paying his rent.

“Would you like anything else, sir?” Asked the waiter that had been assigned to Perry’s when he’d arrived in the pub a half an hour prior.

“Aucune,” Paris responded, having been too distracted by his thoughts of a new weapon design to have responded in English; though Paris was capable of speaking English flawlessly, it was something that had yet to become instinctive.

“Sorry?” The waiter asked, and thus made Perry aware of the fact that he’d made a mistake.

“No. I’ve finished,” Paris corrected himself, and took his bill when the waiter passed it his way. He flicked his eyes over the total price, and brought a hand to his head absentmindedly to scratch his skull; it was quite a habit of Perry’s to scratch his head, or to busy his hands in other such ways when he was presented with a decision.

A simple charm would do the trick… Paris thought to himself and watched as the waiter began to shift his weight from one foot to the other as he got impatient, waiting for Paris to pay for his meal.

Paris dipped his hand into one of the pockets in his loose fitted jeans. “You don’t sound British,” Paris informed the waiter, so to distract him, “you haven’t lived here for very long either, have you?” He grabbed hold of his wand beneath the table, and with trained fingers he slid the piece of wood inside the right sleeve of his shirt. “No, sir; I have lived here for only a few years. I lived in America before now,” the waiter responded.

Paris lifted his right arm, and with a hasty flick of his wrist, Paris revealed the tip of his wand. “Confundo!” he whispered, and at once, his problem of having to pay a little more for a meal than he had in his wallet was resolved.

“I’ll just be across the street, finishing my drink,” Perry informed the other man as he stood from his table. Moving quickly, Paris exited the restaurant that he’d just stolen from and made his way across the busy street to take a seat outside of the muggle restaurant that he’d refused to eat at earlier that evening.

“Bonjour,” Paris greeted the woman whom he’d only realized he was sharing a table with after he’d taken a seat and made himself comfortable. He took a sip through the straw that he'd dropped into his glass of water and grinned, "I hope you weren't saving this seat for anyone."

Selene was surprised when suddenly, a person was sitting straight across from her, and made himself completely comfortable, without even glancing at her. He had taken a swift exit from The Leaky Cauldron, so it was obvious that he was a wizard, and Selene frowned at him, before leaning back in her seat, and looking at him. He spoke to her, and she frowned slightly before smiling, without teeth in his direction. "Oh no.. Eet wazn't taken.." She said carefully, leaning towards him and holding out her hand. "My name eez Selene.. Selene Brun..." She said smiling in a sort of held back way, unsure of what to make of this man who seemed so distracted that he hadn't even seen that someone was sitting at the table he had decided to occupy.

"Why are you so distracted?" She asked in her strong french accent, eying him nervously. "I saw you leave the bar." She said simply, taking a drink of her soda, and looking at him distractedly. She was nervous about her living arrangements, she herself didn't even have furniture, and so she looked extremely distracted as she looked over his shoulder, sipping her drink while leaned back in her seat, watching him, but not at the same time. "You didn't even see me here..." She commented, before smirking at him and leaning forward, taking another bite out of her food.

The woman’s French accent was unmistakable, and from the moment she began to speak, Paris found himself slipping into a more relaxed state of mind; the familiar way in which she pronounced her ‘I’s was relieving. Paris extended his own, rough and callused hand when Selene introduced herself, and gave her hand a few, sloppy shakes. “Paris,” he offered, along with another smile from his endless supply of enthusiastic facial expressions. “C'est un plaisir,” Paris added, so to inform Selene that, when given the chance, he would much rather speak in his native tongue than in English.

“Je pourrais vous poser la même, mademoiselle,” Paris replied before taking another drink from his glass. He followed Selene’s eyes as she peered over his shoulder, and could not resist; “Est-il quelque chose sur mon épaule qui est d'un intérêt particulier pour vous?” he asked, his words shortly followed by a rich laugh that could have put Thor, the God of Thunder, to shame. For someone who had only just stolen dinner from a well known restaurant across the street, Paris did not seemed considerably laid back – but it was just like him to react in such a way to his impending doom.

The eccentric wizard tossed his head to the side as he watched Selene smile sweetly. Her hesitant behavior was something that Paris had trouble reacting to; it was not often that Perry found himself facing someone who acted shyly around him. Usually, if someone in Perry’s midst was nervous, said person shot him, rather tahn smile coyly at him.

“Mes excuses. Auriez-vous préféré que je gawked à vous avant que je ne s'assit?” Paris asked her jokingly, and with that, his grin returned.

Selene couldn't help but find herself smiling. He was speaking French! Oh that language the wished to roll from her tongue, was rolling.. from this man's tongue in a way that nearly took her breath away, hearing such a wonderful language in a street filled with English speakers. "Oh! Vous parlez français aussi?" Selene smiled gratefully at him, happy to be speaking her native tongue as well. But he spoke so freely, and it made her feel shy, and almost.. frightened. She did not know who he was, he could be anyone.. anyone named Paris.. Paris, such an odd name. Sure there was the city, but how many people were actually named after it? Not many.. When he spoke about her looking over his shoulder, she couldn't help but blush and looked away from him.

"Je suis désolé, je ne suis pas seulement utilisé pour parler aux gens afin .. librement." She smiled at him a bit, and then looked straight at him. "Peut-être pas .. mais peut-être un "bonjour, pourrais-je m'asseoir ici» aurait fait bien." She felt herself smile slightly and looked down at her soda, that she had her hands wrapped around now, almost protectively, pulled close to her. She forced herself to relax slightly, and then looked back at him. "I am sorry.. but.. I am.. trying to speak English better... I was told zat I may not be.. understood.. so I am sorry, eez eet okay eef we speak.. English?" She asked, frowning before sighing. "I got a job at ze Ministry, and I have such a strong accent.. I am afraid.. being a secretary... zey may not like eet." She frowned and took another sip of her soda, before glancing up at him. "'ow old are you?" She asked suddenly, her eyes raising to stare directly at him, unsure of how to react to this.. new man.

“Enfin! Un sens de l'humour! Vous venez de faire ma journée, mademoiselle,” Paris responded, his voice laced with the honest relief that he’d experienced upon being responded to with a joke. It was not often, given his choice of career, that Paris encountered a human being who was willing to participate with him in a game of wits and laughter. In fact, it was such a rare occurrence that Paris’ smile had nearly fallen and become a wide “O”, due to his surprise. What a lucky fellow Paris was; not only had he gotten away with something illegal, but upon fleeing from the results of said decision, he met someone who was not completely dull. Perhaps only the French had a decent understanding of what it meant to have a laugh every now-and-then.

A glimmer of curiosity shone momentarily in Perry’s large, almost insect-like eyes. “May I ask you a question?” He asked politely, though he did not pause long enough to receive an answer before continuing on. “You hesitated before using the word ‘freely’. Why’s that? In fact, why use the word ‘freely’ at all? Have you been raised to keep quiet? That is rather strange… isn’t it?” Paris inquired in English, having given in to Selene’s requests that he speak in the language of the land - reluctantly.

It nearly pained Paris, to switch between two languages in such a way, one of which he found came naturally to him, and another which made him feel as though his every word was a lie. Paris was becoming quite skilled in the art of deceit, and the language which he found himself forced to speak when in London was part of this transformation.

“A secretary?” Paris asked. He quite enjoyed asking strangers questions, as it kept the conversation from flipping on him. Personal questions were fascinating, so long as they weren’t being directed towards himself. “How very… boring. I am sorry, my dear, I really can’t think of anything exciting about a job like that. Do you enjoy filing papers, or answering the phone? If you do, I suppose it is the job for you – but how will you keep yourself from falling asleep? Wouldn’t you like to do something more exciting?” Paris brought his straw to his lips once more and finished off the last of his drink. He was quite the talkative fellow. He had almost forgotten about the glass of water in front of him.

Paris flicked an eyebrow upward and leaned backwards in his chair. “How old am I?” he echoed her before replying, as though the question was a particularly tricky one to answer. “I don’t quite remember. How old do I look?”

Selene felt a smile flit across her face, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, immediately looking at the table. He said she had a sense of humor.. no one had ever told her that before... she was always the uptight one.. the one who rarely smiled, and even more rarely made contact with strangers out in the muggle world, muggle world, of course meaning to her right where she could see the Wizarding World, as though she had to reassure herself that it was still there. Watching from a distance, she couldn't help but blush at his saying she had a sense of humor.. it just wasn't normal for people to say that to her.. ever.

When he questioned her word choice, she frowned and then sighed slightly. "I guess... I do not normally talk with strangers.. and yes, I was brought up in a strict household." She said, her french accent making it obvious she was still french, but it was also obvious that she was forcing syllables to sound more.. British. Trying to over pronounciate her h's, which French people tended to drop when speaking English. She forced herself to smile at him, attempting to straighten out her words with the right accent, making it sound like a really weird mix for a moment.

When he said being a secretary was boring, she puffed out her chest, before sighing and leaning back in her chair. "Yes.. I know.. but, eet eez a good paying job.. and.. I have always dreamed of a career in ze Ministry... " She stopped, frowned and then repeated. "THe Ministry." She said the TH hard, like she was trying to figure out the way it sounded on her tongue, before grimacing.. "Such a tough language to get used too.." She frowned and looked at him before sighing. "You do not look very old.. I was simply asking.. I mean... I just graduated so.." She smirked slightly before taking another drink of her soda.

The effect that Paris' complement had on Selene was painfully evident. Quite in the way that Paris found himself incapable of hiding his everlasting amusement, it seemed that Selene could do nothing about her transparency. The way in which her emotions could be seen with ease, shining through the layer of skin and bone that was supposed to hide her thoughts from view. In Selene’s case, the eyes truly were the windows to the soul - as was her smile, the position of her cheekbones, and her thin eyebrows.

In most instances, Paris thirst for a challenge overruled his curiosity, but the brunette that sat before him had managed to grab hold of his interest, despite her inability to remain a puzzle to him, and to grip it firmly in one hand. She had overpowered the thousands of thoughts that continued to simultaneously run through his mind. And Paris' thoughts never did settle for long. They grew too painful if Paris attempted to forcefully focus his attention.

Having worked up himself the beginning of a headache, Paris brought the fingertips of his right hand upward, and ghosted them across the skin of his forehead absently. It was an action that he himself had paid no mind to, as it had been an instinctive reaction to the pain that was brewing there, but it had been far from a graceful movement. Had Paris been any more obvious with the gesture, he could have matched Selene’s transparency.

Paris returned his hand to the table with the thud of his lazy arm and a clatter of their drinks. He cocked his head to one side, as though mimicking a pigeon, and traced the frown that Selene wore with a pair of inquiring eyes. “You should try it more often - talking to strangers. The thrill of making a friend of a stranger is enough to make your day. You have my word; it is always interesting,” Paris informed her honestly, and offered her a smile that would surely loose its meaning if he continued to wear it in such a way. The curve of his lips had a charming aspect to it - as did the excited twinkling of his brown irises - but after twenty seven years, he was beginning to tire the expression. “That rule that parents set regarding strangers only applies to children, you know,” he added. Despite the sarcastic words that he’d constructed this sentence out of, however, the tone he’d used had reversed this effect, leaving him with a genuine statement. “Well,” Paris added, “of course you do. You are speaking with me, are you not? I am a stranger.”

Once more, Paris found himself capable of reading Selene’s emotions like a book. This emotion , however, was one that he had not yet had the pleasure of watching the woman exhibit; determination.

Determination was such a fascinating emotion. It was a state of mind that could drive a person to do anything that they set their mind to - Paris was living proof of that fact. Just as Paris allowed such thoughts to occur to him however, Selene hung her head, and admitted defeat. That was something that she would have to work on.

Paris' eyebrows fell. “Oh - come now!” he exclaimed in an incredulous tone. “You can’t give up that fast! I have just insulted your job! Throw something at me; give me a reason to believe that you have got the best job in the world,” Paris suggested. He flatted his palm, and waved that particular hand in her direction, as though to inform her that it was her tern to speak. But she supplied him with nothing more than an agreement. Paris had waited in anticipation for the grandest speech of all time, on behalf of secretaries everywhere... nope. He received nothing of the sort.

Instead of growing disappointed over the matter, Paris moved on to the latest addition to their conversation. It was a personal question - or, a personal question that was not in the form of a question at all, but could not be qualified as a statement. And the subject of said inquisition? Perry’s age. After having given her an insignificant reply the first time that he’d encountered Selene’s question, Paris had been foolish to assume that she would be satisfied, and would move on. "Are you flirting with me?" He suggested jokingly, and arched his left eyebrow. Perhaps a joke would throw her off.

Selene frowned at him when she spoke about talking to strangers. "In any situation talking to a stranger could be bad... I mean... who knows who they are! I mean... if we didn't know what people looked like, for all I know you could be.. could be Felix Barker! Or... erm... A death Eater or something like that... it's why I don't often talk to people on the streets... unless they were introduced to me by someone I respect.. then I don't see why I should... of course, I guess I'm making an exception for you... seeing as you sat at my table." She said, and felt her eyes twinkling, even though she was looking stern, her lips were curled slightly into a smile.

Selene couldn't help but raise an eyebrow when he said she should defend her job. "What do you want to hear? I work at a meager salary, and I push papers all day... I get coffee, tea, milk, whatever they want, I do enjoy it sometimes, I enjoy setting up appointments, and talking to the people in bigger departments because then I know I have a chance of getting somewhere, I'm a Secretary only for a little bit, because I know it will get me higher.. that is all." She said with a huff, staring at him but her eyes were twinkling still. "It is fun sometimes, and I get to meet some neat people at work... but it is a stepping stone.. nothing more." She said frowning. "I do not aspire to be a Secretary.." She said and sighed, running her hand through her blonde hair.

When he asked if she was flirting with him, she raised an eyebrow and sat up straighter, before smirking. "Are you avoiding my question?" She asked a grin spreading on her face. It was quite entertaining, talking to someone who thought they could see through her, she saw it on his face, and she knew he saw her emotions as well. He found her amusing, and she found him amusing as well, but she also knew that he was hiding something, even though it could be as simple as his age, but usually when someone sat down at a strangers table and made small talk with them, it was because there was something to hide, they were either hiding from someone, or something, and she had a bad feeling he wasn't of a good crowd. But he was good company, and she was enjoying herself, she was just afraid he would leave.

[OOC: If you cant' tell. I got lazy with the french spellings and stuff... just... erm.. pretend they are there XD]