Darren was certainly not supposed to be at the lodge. That, by all accounts, was absurd for someone like him. He was only there for the night as far as he could tell, which he supposed was better than sticking around too long. But it was something he couldn't avoid. After all, as someone who was evading arrest, he had few options. The Ministry wasn't likely to search for a presumably poor university student at a lodge as nice as this one. Right? He had assumed it was true, as evidenced by his appearance there that night. He only intended on staying a couple days, but it couldn't necessarily be helped. Hopefully he would hear from one of his (few) friends soon, giving him the go-ahead to travel to somewhere he felt more comfortable. He wasn't exactly suited for the life that the people around him seemed used to.
And so it was that the evening found Darren sitting outside of the main room of the lodge, near to the bar but not quite within. Old enough, though he was, to request a drink without worry, the boy - a young man, really - didn't have it in him to consider getting inebriated. It would have been nice, he supposed, but not worth it. Remaining alert would certainly be wiser than taking chances, he mused silently.
The book in his hand had quickly grown dull, not helped by the fact that he continually found himself glancing around with worry that he might be found out. The first time he had been approached by Ministry personnel, Darren had lied and resisted arrest, leading them to try and track him down despite the revoking of the Marriage Law. So, even into the holiday season, he was supposed to serve time in Azkaban. It wouldn't be too terribly long, he knew, if he turned himself in. But he did not believe it to be worth the time. Especially not when he had an incredibly intriguing Ravenclaw that he was supposed to be working with. Spending time away from their meetings was not as simple as he had expected, but he knew that it was simply because her case had become more and more interesting as they talked and tried to work through things.
Indeed, he could have been a counselor in the making. Well, he could have, were it not for his propensity to aim for getting a rise out of someone rather than solving their problems. He cared more about finding out why someone reacted and how they did so than about helping them to get past their innate responses.
Finally, he let out a huff and pushed himself from his chair, taking the book with him. He couldn't stand it any longer. At least, in the safety of his room, he had a smaller chance of being found out by those who would get him into trouble. So Darren checked the page number as he headed towards the elevator, shutting the pages together.
The only other person on the lift was a brunette who almost seemed relieved to be heading up, when most people were only just getting their night started. She had a drink in hand, but Darren felt it was a safe bet to assume that it was not her first of the evening. After all, most people wore the tell-tale signs of alcohol on them, whether it was a bit of swaying or a particularly relaxed expression to match equally soft posture.
When she refilled the drink, Darren let the corner of his mouth that she could not see lift in a smirk. A sigh left him and he stuffed his free hand - the one not wrapped around the bindings of his book - into its proper pocket. It was brilliant timing, too, given that a chill came over him quite suddenly.
"The hell?" he muttered, looking up at the ceiling of the lift. Something that seemed to be a cloud now blocked his sight of the box's actual roof, and things that could only be snow flurries had started to fall towards Darren and the girl next to him. "Of all the stupid... What are you on about, then?" he asked the girl, passing her a disapproving glare. Drunk or not, playing tricks like this did not make any sense.
He shook his head, tucking the book into the inner pocket of his coat before returning his hand - and the other one, too - to his pockets. As if the very building was objecting to the idea of snow within its walls, the lift shuddered, squealing to a halt and shaking as though it threatened to drop them to the very base of the lobby, where they had started. Darren's feet spread wider, pushing the first layer of snow aside as he tried to regain his balance.
"If this is you," he added, accusing her once more, "just cut it out. Now that we're stuck, we'll just freeze to death at this rate."