What Christmas? This?

From the upper storey, the men who had disappeared into room seven-hundred-and-twelve for the evening prior descended into the bar just as breakfast was coming to end but soon enough for another order to shoot off to the kitchen. The barmaid that was waiting to receive them was the very unimpressed Maud who had the fortune, or misfortune, to know Baldric and, more particularly, his friend, Baird, quite intimately. Thus, when she clapped her beady hazel eyes on the men, she knew instantly that there was a curious story attached to why Baldric Wood was in London, primarily, and not home. Secondarily, the question was where the young man’s friends were and then thirdly, once the other two had been dealt with, she’d hanker after who his highly attractive company was and what it was, for the benefit of indulging the other man’s ego, about Baldric that made him worth spending the night with.

“G’mornin’ Baldric Wood,” Maud called out, setting down the glass she’d been wiping up. She flipped her tea-towel over her shoulder and dropped her slender hands to her broad hips, her rosy eyebrows climbing her pale forehead questioningly. She didn’t trust that there had merely been just the cheese and the wine that had been sent up to the two the night before. She knew the look on Baldric Wood’s face which was the picture of contentment, as per usual, but it had a slight twinkle to it and the spring was most definitely in his step so when he sidled up to the bar, a broad, cheeky smile brightened up his usually severe mouth, instantaneously confirming her suspicions.

“A good morning to you too, Maud Devereaux,” Baldric greeted her brashly, bowing playfully before the bar before leaning over to kiss her on the cheek. “I hope you’re not too sour with me,” he grinned.

“Now why would I be sour with you?” Maud intimated brightly, eyeing Baldric carefully. “Two breakfasts this time?”

“And coffee, love, if you’d be so good,” Baldric nodded. Maud huffed in response and turned, sidling into the back room without another word sent his way.

Maud Devereaux was a friend of Baird McLaggen first and it was to him that her loyalty was bound. However, as such, she was called upon to watch out for the strapping young lad by the name of Baldric Wood at the said McLaggen’s request. So, watch out for him she did, albeit unimpressed that the Mr and Mrs McLaggen were so content to go home and leave said Baldric Wood at her establishment. Still, she couldn’t blame them. There was very little elbow room in that flat of theirs and another night on the couch for Baldric was bound to drive the Missus crazy. The Mr Wood was a resourceful boy, if nothing else.

“No work?” Baldric inquired, addressing Benji’s words finally after sitting down at the long, breakfast table in the middle of the pub. He picked up the Daily Prophet from the bench beside him and set it down on the table top before reaching over for two glasses by a pitcher of orange juice. He poured some of the juice into each glass and set them down between them before flipping to the back of the ‘Prophet, immediately heading for the sports pages.

“Won’t they miss you at the office?” Baldric added after a moment, his hand smoothing out the pages that began optimistically with a Puddlemere United win in the Youth Division: a game he was still irritated he’d been left out of. Regardless of their tally, the other team caught the Snitch and while Puddlemere Youth won by the narrow margin of twenty points, it was still disappointing to see they hadn’t taken all of the points and the Snitch home. Baldric sighed a little and flipped the page, brightening at the sight of the Tornadoes losing.

“Food!” Maud exclaimed, returning with two plates and two cups of coffee hovering along behind her. She set the plates down, the coffee sorting itself out, and she ruffled Baldric’s hair before disappearing once more to attend to some small matter across the room.

Abandoning the newspaper for a moment, Baldric dug in, putting effort into lining his stomach with something other than the remnants of cheese and red wine.

Bentley chose to ignore the looks that the girl sent his way, mostly because she seemed to know Rick, and clearly wasn’t meaning any harm. Where he would more often send annoyed looks back in cases like that, Ben didn’t see a reason. The lady was bringing him food and coffee, was she not? No need to anger the one in charge of his meal. Otherwise he would have to head back to the flat and make his own breakfast, which sounded painfully dull.

Following Baldric over to the table, Ben caught the question as he sat to join the younger man. Few others were scattered in the pub's dining area, likely as it was so close to Christmas Day. Those who were seated around them were alone more often than not, but Ben tore his gaze away from them and back to the table where he was sitting. Taking the juice, he watched as the Gryffindor’s hands spread the paper out next to them before replying.

“Yes, well, I am fairly certain that the boss gets a day off. Especially if he’s going to be CEO one day.” Bentley pointed out, not even bothering to cover up his shameless pride. Why bother, he wondered, when it was merely fact? Boasting was something the Slytherin had always felt almost entitled to, considering where he had come from and everything he had earned throughout his life. “I haven’t taken off in ages, anyway. Father won’t care.”

There was a difference, he had decided recently, between calling someone ‘father’ and calling that person ‘dad’. The first held less attachment emotionally, so Ben stuck with that one, considering his father had only been his for about forty-eight hours. Regardless of any reason for Bentley to tie himself to the Ashfords emotionally, the businessman had simply chosen to let that feeling grow over time. The regard he had for Derek and Nancy was enough for now; emotions weren't something he understood well enough to offer without serious consideration. Having a family, however, definitely felt good. He wasn't complaining at all.

His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of their meal, which Bentley was glad to find he could eat without any sort of stomach churning. It took a little longer than usual to get the food down, slight moments of unease passing now and again. Eventually, though, both had finished and Ben stood, pulling his coat around his shoulders.

“To the flat, then? You can always go and, you know, get things if need be.” Bentley shrugged, holding an arm out for Baldric to take hold so he could apparate them away.