[OPEN TO ALL] Lamplight

Knockturn Alley. Kari felt her upper lip curl into a faint sneer. She narrowed her stance and stepped back into the shadows, out of the glaring yellow light of the street lamp. She couldn’t risk being seen by the drunks who had fallen with a clatter from the nightclub just down the road. She couldn’t recall the detail of its name but she couldn’t summon the will to try, either. She was too far away and at a poor angle to read the neon sign that punctured through the heavy night.

He was late. Or she. In truth, she wasn’t entirely sure who she was meeting.

The tolls of the clock in the square just over from the street she was stood on told her that it had just struck two. In a handful of hours, she would be forced to ingest a pepper-up potion and resume her normal, day-to-day life. She would floo into the Ministry and continue on as normal. She huffed, blowing a lock of blonde hair out of her eyes. She yearned to sleep. She knew Tigg would be decidedly unimpressed by her lateness.

And yet she continued to stand. Dutifully waiting, as ever.

She would give him five minutes more, she decided, glancing down at the glowing numbers and dials on her watch. Then, only then, would she go home.

Bloody potioneers.

Against her will, Imogen still should go to the notorious Knockturn Alley.
She truly hates this place. Street lamps are throwing light on the almost deserted road which is why everything looked like a scene from a horror movie.
At every step they're people, drunk after a night in the clubs. It was as if they're just waiting for the sacrifice who they will attack.

There are some places where you don't want to be seen. One of these places was this alley. Imogen was wearing a long black cloak with a hood that is almost completely covered her face. Only a few stray strand of blond hair protruding beneath the black clothes with which it was wrapped.

She bought the ingredients which she needed.
Some of them are for the potions that she's making now and some are for stocks, in order not to have to come back here often.
She put all the ingredients in her bag, looking for a way out. The street is with a lot of passes, and it's easy to lose.
She noticed someone who is almost hidden, as if waiting for someone.
She went to the girl, after all, Imogene's curiosity is stronger than anything else. I mean, there are much better places for date.
"You know, it's not good to dwell on this street. But I'm sure you are already aware," she looked at the girl who was her age, and that is yet acted sick.

A distinctly feminine voice reached out and brushed over her ear. Had Kari not been as poised as she was, perhaps she would have jumped. She turned her head, the barest indication that she was surprised to see someone. The woman was as heavily shrouded as Kari herself was, making the Finnish witch suspect that this was the person she had been waiting for after all.

“Indeed,” she replied coolly, turning her head back towards the street where the drunks were slowly beginning to pick their way back towards the relative safety of Diagon Alley. They didn’t take any notice of the shadowed women. They were focused, instead, on getting back to the Leaky Cauldron for one last pint before shoving out into London and, hopefully, home.

“Do you happen to have a cigarette?” It was the line which Kari uttered every time. It was the way of letting her clients know that she was the one they were meant to be dealing with. If this was the woman she was meant to be meeting, she would soon find out.

Imogen looked at the girl in front of her. In addition to purchasing the ingredients, Imogen was here for one more reason, to give to her client already finished potion.
Now, simply had to determine whether it is this girl.
She looked around for a few moments: a dark street, drunks lying and trying to get up with the power which was for Imogen worth admirable after so many drinks, just to go to take drink again, probably in the Leaky Cauldron.
The chances that someone else is waiting just for Imogen are very small but still should be checked.

She laughed when she heard the question. In fact, she was warned that it would be just what a girl could ask Imogen to be sure that she is her client.
"Unfortunately, I have to disappoint you, I'm a big opponent of cigarettes" she shrugged and then she looked at the girl, at least as far as she could see in the darkness.

"You know, cigarettes slowly destroying life. They are especially dangerous for those who are already sick. For example, if you have just a little cold, cigarettes will deteriorate that," it was a key moment. At this point will probably find out whether this is really her client, chances are huge that she is.

Kari’s brows rose delicately with muted interest. She was hardly expecting a lecture. She half wanted to point out that she hardly looked the sort to partake in such things. She prided herself on keeping herself healthy and all the rest. She let her hood fall from the top of her head and she allowed the vaguely offended look to trace her face for the barest of moments as she stepped back into the street’s lamplight.

“Then I do hope you have something else for me,” Kari replied pointedly.

She enjoyed the games but she had been waiting for too long. She wanted what she needed and then she wanted to get it on the way so she could go home and scrounge a few hours of rest. She knew it was a long shot but she felt as though she could, yet, get the job done that evening. She was too tired to play cat and mouse.

“A potion, perhaps.” A statement, not a question.

Since the girl revealed her identity, Imogen decided to do the same. Well, there are still some manners, right?
Although honestly she did not like being seen in Knockturn Alley, this will certainly be very short, no one will understand who she is.
Imogen looked at the girl with a smug look on her face before she smiled slightly insincere.
"I might actually have something which might make you happy," she said thoughtfully before she frowned as if thinking.

Imogen truly enjoyed this game. Or at least in these moments of despair, when people just want their potion but she was the one holding all the strings in her hands. She is the one who decides when the game ends.
Short is looking bag before she pulled out a little black bottle containing the potion that this girl is obviously desperately wanted.
Once again she looked around to make sure there is no one and then handed her a bottle and still looking at her with a smug look on her face.
"I imagine this is what is so desperately want to" raise an eyebrow questioningly, although this is not really a question.
She just enjoyed the game even though it is obvious that other girl wants to finish this as soon as possible.

The recipient of this particular potion was the harassed wife of a Wizengamot lawyer. Her children had all flown the nest barring one who had proved troublesome for the pair. She had enlisted Kari accidentally. In many ways, she had plucked her name out of the smuggler handbook. The last one had been picked up by the Ministry a few weeks before in a bust that had, thankfully, no connections to her. Kari would have thought twice about taking up the job, otherwise. She paid well, though, and Kari wasn’t going to stay home when there was money to be made. She had long since progressed beyond this whole venture simply being about Brennan. Now, it was also for herself.

The feel of the bottle in her hand did, indeed, make Kari happy but not for the reason it seemed the potioneer was assuming. She pocketed it before either of them could change their minds. It irked Kari, somewhat, that one bottle was all the other woman could stump up but she knew she couldn’t expose herself. She had to let this woman think her whoever she wanted her to be. Only that way would there ever be a chance of repeat business – and Kari’s wizengamot wife would just have to wait for a new fix.

“You’ll receive your payment when it’s been deemed adequate,” Kari informed her smoothly before making a move to brush past her. “I bid you good … well, morning, I suppose.”

Imogen is not much bothered about the people who use her potions. Most of the potions she make on her own, her sister, who is really one of the best, taught Imogen very well about art of making potions.
All this is just a job.
She get an order, make necessary potion and get money for it. Everything is more than just easy.
This is just a little extra work in addition to modeling, more as a hobby.

Imogen watched another woman as she put the bottle in her bag with such haste as if she thought that Imogen might change her mind and ask for her potion back.
Imogen was looking with her with no interest and when she heard her words she laughed.
"Honey, my potion, my terms. I expect you to pay me no later than 5 pm. No excuses," she said seriously.

Imogen did not like the conditions by others, especially when they are trying to be in charge. In this job, the conditions determined by the person who brings the goods, and that person is Imogen.
"I think it's easier to say goodbye," Imogen winked and put onher head a large black hood again.

"If the potion's not any good," Kari's voice sharpened icily, "then you won't be being paid."

That was the way it all worked for the middle man. If the patron didn't like it, the middle man wouldn't get paid and, thus, in turn neither would the potioneer. It was a problematic chain, especially when the potioneer had obvious outgoings, but anyone worth their snuff would produce a decent ware and there would be no problems.

Price demands and assertions of supposed control weren't going to faze Kari. It was a been-there-done-that scenario. She knew who was in charge, really, and she was not so egocentric to assume it was her, either. She knew it was one woman. And it wasn't her potion-making associate, either.

"So, honey," Kari's lip curled distastefully as the word flicked off of her tongue. "You had better hope you've made something my patron will like ... otherwise we'll both be getting nothing."

"And if you want repeat business," she added warningly. "I suggest you get on board with the way it works."