Distressed

His comment on getting her... 'shitfaced' made Zoe flinch. He wanted to know her? He wouldn't like it.. she couldn't let herself get to drunk.. she couldn't.. bad things could come out of her mouth.. things that could very easily get her arrested... though under the current administration.. well maybe they wouldn't care, but the fact was.. she didn't want Nemo to think of her as a bad person, as weird as that sounded. She had a thing against monsters.. not people in general... The thought of getting utterly drunk.. not being able to stand correctly, and loosening up... it scared her sure, but... what was life without a little fear right?

So Zoe followed him and then grimaced. "Of course I know of your habits... you only smell like alcohol everyday.." She said carefully frowning at him. "I'm not a robot..." She said her last comment under her breath though, and she didn't know if he heard her or not, but she let him lead her into the bar, which smelt.. well like a bar, old memories of spending long nights by herself in these things resurfaced, and Zoe flinched again, before she looked at Nemo. "Well... You know what kind of stuff this bar serves... and you know how best to get... well drunk... so I'll find a spot to sit.. I'll give you money if you need it... I do carry muggle money.. in case you were wondering." She said and pulled out a wallet, which was filled with muggle money. Her wizard money was in a small pouch in her bag still, but she handed her wallet to him. "Buy whatever.. I have money.." she said with a sigh before she walked off to find a seat.

It seemed it was an evening of surprises. His choice of words had evidently struck a nerve somewhere within Zoe - the woman whom Nemo had unintentionally begun to believe was incapable of expressing human emotion. He had assumed it impossible to get such a noticeable reaction out of her - but he had, and with such ease that he had nearly frozen in his tracks. It was certainly strange; not knowing what the evening had in store for him, due to the fact that he had added someone unfamiliar to the equation.

"Have you made a habit of smelling me, Zoe?" Nemo inquired, speaking through the rich laughter that rumbled in his chest. But he soon found himself standing on his own in, and with a wallet in his hand, of all things. "Hey!" Nemo called out in an attempt to stop Zoe from disappearing from his field of vision, but to no avail; in no time at all she had blended with the cigarette smoke that drifted throughout the thick air, and with the small crowd of people that inhabited the place. In response, Nemo tossed his arms out at his sides in an expression of disbelief, and rolled his eyes - an action which got several laughs out of near bar patrons.

"Lost your girl already, Mo?" came the raspy voice of a regular. A dear friend of Nemo's.

"She's not my girl, Randall. Not this one. She's too uptight for my taste."

"Nothing the spirits wont fix!" Randall cackled, and slapped Nemo on the back encouragingly.

Nemo cracked another toothy grin in reply. It was a relieving, to be amongst people of a similar, careless sense of humor to his own. Such personalities were not easy to find within the stone-faced men and women that Nemo worked amongst. It was incredibly challenging to get past the defensive walls that each had placed before himself - a process which Nemo intended to put to use during his evening with Zoe.

As he neared the bar that Randall was seated before, and leaned against its splintering surface casually, Nemo's attention was drawn towards the wallet that he had been left with. The man had never carried a wallet, for he had never seen a point in concealing such an insignificant amount of money from view. His money had always resided within the deep pockets of his favorite vintage jeans. And thus, it felt odd, holding the unfamiliar object in his hand. Curious, Nemo flicked the wallet open with his thumbnail and began to leaf through the banknotes that he found in between each flap.

His blue irises immediately lit with excitement.

"Franklin!" He called to the bartender, who promptly flipped Nemo the bird. "Two cheeseburgers with the works, and three bottles of vodka!" Nemo ordered without looking up from the wallet in his hands. He had pulled out a handful of notes and stuffed them into his back pocket, before withdrawing the accurate payment for his order. Zoe had given him permission to purchases whatever he wanted, after all. The barkeep halted mid-step before the kitchen in response to Nemo's request, his facial features screwed into an evident expression of bewilderment. "Three bottles? Mortimer, that isn't even legal." But the man only shrugged it off after a moment of thought, and continued on his way.

Nemo slapped the wallet closed once more, before the dancing commenced. He turned and began walking backwards, dragging his feet along the hardwood floors in a fluent movement that made it appear as though gravity had no effect on him. With each dance move, he neared the section of the bar in which he'd last seen Zoe, grinning all the while. Three bottles and a cheeseburger? He'd never been so lucky in his life.

If it had even occurred to Zoe that he might steal from her wallet, Zoe was past caring. She worked enough to replace anything in that wallet any day. She just kept it on her for... occasions when she needed things. Like alcohol, and she doubted the man had enough money to buy anything very large. Kid looked like a starved drunk who lived on the streets, and had never seen a proper meal anyway. At least in Zoe's eyes. Zoe found a table easily enough, and sat down by herself, ignoring the stares from the men around her.

To be honest, the only time Zoe felt comfortable was when no one could see her face. At home.. reading a book, doing her bills, paperwork, hunting monsters... it was okay, but she had come to realize more and more, and it was constantly at the front of her mind. She was uptight.. like, really uptight. Obviously it was noticeable enough to attract Nemo's attention. Calling her robot, and such. And it made her wonder... was she really THAT uptight? Did people think she just.. went home and plugged in? Sure she was formal at work, and sure she was a bit uncomfortable with the whole... talking to people on a social basis.. but it had gotten to the point that if she had even tried to break that.. it would have been weird.

So she gave up, and just kept up her appearance. Came to work literally every day, all day, had even given up her nightly hunts, worked simply on her work and nothing else. She got paid substantial amounts every paycheck, and saved up quite a bit because she had a single apartment that was pretty cheap, and she could keep it up without trouble, she even had a maid come in once a week and pick the place up. Not that there was much to pick up.. but it was still a little dirty. And now... now she had just let a random drunk from work waltz off with one of her wallets full of money. One because she had many.. hidden away in a safe in her closet, not that she cared. She had enough money saved up in her Gringotts bank that she could jump back from someone stealing everything she owned, and still make it out fine. It wasn't as though she had any personal belongings anyway.

When Nemo came back finally, she glanced up at him and then looked away, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her back straight, her eyes staring straight at the table in front of her. She looked.. uncomfortable... but she didn't care, she was here to loosen up, she had to at least give him a challenge in getting her too.

Both Zoe's uncomfortable facial expression and stiff-as-a-board posture had greatly inspired Nemo. She was such a respectable woman; never was she caught in the act of enjoying herself. And there truly was no more professional behavior than that. It had become quite evident to Nemo that he would have to spoil her if he intended to watch her unwind; for once, it seemed alcohol alone would not suffice. She needed a great big push; something that would open her eyes to the fact that Nemo preferred to be in the presence of her looser personality - if she did indeed have a human form locked away within her hard exterior. The challenge made Nemo feel like a man on a mission.

Not once during his trek across the pub had Nemo's dancing ceased. In fact, he had increased the speed at which his boot-clad feet moved beneath him until they moved in blurred motions. For a brief moment he had paused before the table that Zoe had chosen, but only to drop her wallet in her lap and proceed with his antics.

In the short period of time that Nemo had already spent in the pub he had attracted the attention of several smiling pairs of eyes. An audience that greatly increased in number as he backed up from the table that he was to share with his coworker, and prepared himself for his next action. Some of those who were familiar with Nemo even went so far as to whistle and hoot, intentionally egging him on. For they were well aware of the way in which the man acted when he unwound, and were eager for the entertainment.

Nemo took their encouragement as a signal to carry on with his plan.

After he'd bent his arms at his elbows and had swung the pair of limbs forward as a method of gaining momentum, Nemo darted towards the table. With a swift leap he planted his heavy boots firmly on the tabletop, and once more he began to move to the faint music playing throughout the bar. He slowly lifted his arms above his head and began to swivel his slender hips, creating quite the commotion as he sent one of the table's edges knocking repeatedly against the nearest wall. Already, Nemo was dancing upon tables and drawing cheers from the entire bar - and that was without the aid of a drink.

He bent his knees, and lowered himself slightly, so to rest his twinkling eyes on Zoe. She was in for one hell of a night, and this truth had shown through Nemo's excited gaze.

Zoe jumped slightly when he dropped her wallet in her lap, and she carefully stowed it away, keeping her eyes on her stuff, until she realized that Nemo wasn't sitting down. She knew he had been dancing the whole way, buts he wasn't prepared for his next move. He jumped onto the table, and started to swivel his hips. Zoe flung backwards, and her chair hit the wall with a thunk as people started to cheer. Her face went beat red, and she stared at him. "Are you crazy! Get down from there!" She hissed as he continued to dance on the table, drawing the eye of every single person in the bar. He hadn't even started to drink yet! And here he was... dancing on tables.

Zoe leaned back slightly when he bent down in front of her, his gaze meeting hers, and someone started to wolf whistle. Her eyes darted around the room, and people were looking at the pair, and Zoe didn't know what to do. "What do you think you're doing?" She whispered, not liking his gaze in the slightest, not liking it at all. "Everyone is staring.. get down from there!" She hissed, her hands in her lap, trying to maintain her stiff composure as she suffered through this humiliation.

"I don't know what you drink all day... but obviously you are already drunk..." She said frowning at him, and attempting to straighten her hair, tucking it neatly behind one ear, before she flicked a smile at the table nearest them. She didn't know what everyone in the bar was expecting from her, but she was not about to join the man up on the table. And she definitely was not here as a date, she just wanted to get drunk, and go home and sleep it off, end of story, not dance on tables, or do anything like she was sure the rest of the bar was thinking she'd do with Nemo... not on her life. She was way above that kind of thing, even drunk.

“I was born drunk, Gould!” Nemo shouted above the noise of the critique that he was receiving. In all honesty, Nemo had only achieved a comfortable buzz during his day at the Ministry. But Nemo preferred an interesting fabrication over an insipid truth.

Several pairs of arms had shot up during Nemo’s routine; the classic gesture of men and woman ordering themselves more to drink. All those who had once intended to leave early that evening had changed their minds with ease at the sight of the town’s drunk. Nemo Omara held a reputation, after all. It was said that every moment in a bar with the man was similar to being seated in the front row of a theater while a comedy played.

Who wanted to miss out on such an opportunity?

“Oi, Mortimer!” Randall called from where he stood, not three feet away from Nemo’s table. In his hands he held the western hat that had once hidden his untidy blonde hair from view; the hat that he was never seen without. In response, Nemo threw an arm towards his friend to take hold of the hat that he had been offered, and began to twist the accessory on the tip of his finger.

The crowd seemed to enjoy the idea of Nemo in the hat, for their wolf whistling had started up once more. After a moment of listening to their harmonized calls, Nemo began to wonder whether they were whistling to the repetitive motions of his hips, or if they were following the beat of the song that Nemo danced along with.

Nemo held the hat by its brim, with the hat’s interior facing away from himself, and with a flick of his wrist he brought the hat backward until its top was lying atop his forearm. Wand Juggling, Nemo remembered with a wide grin. His act with the hat was quite like the trick that he’d invented with his wand. Nemo flipped the hat once more, forcing it to climb up the remainder of his arm in fluent movements. With his arm curled around the hat, Nemo lifted it upwards, and dropped the accessories on his head.

It was then that Nemo’s dancing had become noticeably more suggestive, as though the hat had provided him with a new sense confidence. He took hold of the belt that hung around his waist with one hand, and gripped the front of his hat with the other. It was obvious that he was enjoying himself, as he had begun to laugh loudly as he swayed his hips. “Come on Zoe! There is nothing wrong with having a good time!” Nemo informed her, before making a swinging motion with his arm, and spinning slowly on the spot.

Zoe had never been more mortified in her entire life. How could someone do that? Just.. get up there and not care? He was... dancing very suggestively on her table, and she didn't know what to do! Everyone was laughing and having a great time, and she just sat there, staring dumbly at the man. But she decided to correct him when he called her Gould. "It's Zoe! Call me.. Call me Zoe! Gould is for the office." She stared around the room, unable to watch him anymore. Her face was getting redder and redder, and she knew she couldn't leave. Her plans for getting hammered were with this guy.. so.. she had to stay and work this out.

When he yelled down at her, she frowned. "This is not my idea of a good time!" She called back, staring at his legs again, as his dancing got more and more provocative, and she couldn't help but glance up every now and then, but her face remained as emotionless as she could get it, she didn't slouch, and she kept her hands in her lap.

This man was seriously going to kill every ounce of reputation she had. She was just happy they were in a muggle bar, and no one would recognize her from work. At least she hoped no one was there to recognize her. "Nemo... seriously!" She called out, staring at him as people hooted and hollered. "Get down from there!" She called, her face beat red, but her gaze level on him.

"Mortimer," Nemo replied with the nickname that he had grown so familiar with; it was his turn to correct Zoe in regards to the title that she had chosen to refer to him by. Nobody. Had Nemo truly embarrassed Zoe to the point of feeling it necessary to insult him in such a way? Most were not aware of the meaning behind the name that his mother had given him - and yet, Nemo found himself considering all of Zoe's possible intentions. But only for the briefest of moments did he allow these thoughts to hinder him, before he turned back towards the woman, and stepped off of the edge of the table that she had pulled her chair up to. He fell downward, only to catch himself with the heels of his palms, and to sit where he had landed.

Prior to his retirement from the festivities, Nemo received several mixed reactions from those that he'd entertained with his dance, which had become downright sexual by the time that he'd stopped. But Nemo paid no mind. Instead, he allowed his legs to dangle off of the table, and rested his chin upon his closed fist as he stared forward.

It was not natural for Nemo to sit in such a manner; due to his height, it had become a habit of Nemo's to hunch forward. In fact, he had done so until it had become natural for his spine to arch in that way. Anyone who had ever met Nemo in the past knew of his usually casual posture. Thus, it was painfully easy to determine the fact that he was mimicking Zoe as he sat there with his back straightened, mere inches away from the subject of his joke. His actions coaxed a couple of chuckles from those who had not yet turned away from Nemo and resumed with their previous conversations. And Nemo could not resist the smile that had tugged at the corners of his lips.

As Nemo's crystal blue irises remained locked on Zoe, his order arrived. He was alerted of the presence of the food-covered plates and the three bottles of vodka by the sound of glass clinking against the surface of their table, but he did not turn away from Zoe. Acting as though he was taking part in a staring contest, Nemo reached one of his arms around himself and felt around for his burger, which he then took firm hold of, and moved out from behind his back.

The moment Nemo took a bite of his cheeseburger, he began to tap his feet together happily. He swung his legs in-sync with his every chewing motion, only pausing once to speak to Zoe. "These are the best burgers in the world. I ordered you one," he told her through a mouthful of crumbling beef, some of which had tumbled from his lips and landed on the floor below him. Suddenly, his eyes lit up; he'd been struck by a realization. "You aren't one of those 'no carb' crazies, are you? If so, I'll eat yours for you," he offered with a sloppy grin.

Zoe shook her head and sighed. "Sorry.. Mortimer.. I'm so used to hearing you called Nemo.. I am sorry." She said with a sigh before she watched him sit down, though not without complaint by many of the people in the bar. He was staring at her though, and she couldn't help but feel even more uncomfortable. "What?" She asked, staring at him, and judging by the reaction of people around her, he was making fun of her. Her face went even redder if possible, she felt her gaze slide to her lap, knowing his eyes were on her, but unable to meet his gaze.

When the food arrived, Zoe felt a surge of hope that he'd look away, but she was let down quickly when he simply reached out for his hamburger and kept on staring at her. "Oh come on.. what did I do?" She asked staring at him, watching as he ate his hamburger. When he mentioned that he ordered her one, she took one look at it and shook her head. "If you remember correctly, I'm a robot.." She said, after he commented about carbs. "I don't eat at all.." She shook her head and smirked. "I'm just not hungry it's fine.. you can eat it." She said folding her hands carefully in her lap and staring at them. "Did you seriously order three bottles of vodka? Is that.. even legal?" She asked, staring at the table and then turning to look at him. "You are being serious when you say you are going to get me to loosen up.. aren't you?" She said, her eyes going wide.

He found it quite comical; the fact that his unblinking gaze had caused her to shift uncomfortably in her seat, but their proximity had done nothing to faze her. It had been his intention to embarrass the woman when he had taken a seat upon the table, but it seemed as though he had failed in this attempt. Nothing would ever compete with the level of humiliation that his dancing had inflicted upon her. Nemo grinned at the thought, for he took great pride in the fact that he had forced a reaction from Zoe Gould.

After a brief moment, the laughter of those who had recognized Nemo’s joke faded, and Nemo slouched forward once more. “Nothing. You haven’t done a thing. Seriously. Nothing at all. You’re just… sitting there,” Nemo replied through a mouthful of food. As he spoke, his eyebrows climbed upward to create an over-exaggerated expression of disbelief. “You’re a rock!” he added, “And that statement is not to be confused with ‘you rock’.”

Nemo proceeded to swing his legs as they dangled off of the table’s edge, as though the distraction that was the burger in his hands had rendered him incapable of withholding his happiness. Like a starved child, Nemo tore through the meaty meal, swallowing large mouthfuls of the sandwich at once. “So good,” he grunted as his eyelids fluttered shut.

He had been in mid-bite when Zoe had decided to reply sarcastically to his previous inquiry. Hadn’t he been so desperate to consume every crumb of the free meal that he had been provided with, the food that filled his cheeks most likely would have fallen to the ground below him in a revolting heap of minced meat. Instead, Nemo coughed as he swallowed roughly against the laughter that had overwhelmed him. It was not until after he’d wrestled the burger down his throat that he spoke. “Did you – did you just tell a joke?” He asked, feigning surprise.

“Nothing worth doing is legal,” Nemo replied, well aware of the double meaning that stood behind his words; it only strengthened his amusement towards the situation. He waved off Zoe’s wide eyes, “You and I will split the first. I’ll drink the remaining two bottles,” Nemo elaborated. And it was on that note that he twisted towards the alcohol that sat behind him, and began to lay out two long rows of shot classes across the table.