Another night, another shift at the White Wyvern… everything was very much normal for her, in the only way that she knew how. She was still dealing with the loss of her brother, though she supposed people might argue that she wasn’t ‘dealing’ with it at all. Amaris was still simply working as much as possible, trying to distract herself with everything and anything. Work did the trick, because she was so damn afraid that Ares was going to fire her, that she was always constantly busy at work. She needed this job now more than ever, and she certainly couldn’t do anything worth sacking her for. Ares knew that she wouldn’t be able to get a job anywhere else—registering with the Ministry had made sure of that, and she needed work. She couldn’t just let Eric pay their rent, even though she knew her paycheck barely made a dent in that particular monthly payment. Her paycheck barely left her with enough money for rent in Knockturn Alley, let alone anywhere else—and Eric had insisted on them getting one of the nicer apartments in Diagon Alley. She wasn’t quite sure why… she was more than used to awful, spending all of her nights in Knockturn, and she almost felt out of place in Diagon Alley at this point.

But she tried to act as normal as possible for him, even when she felt everything but—even when she knew that he didn’t fall for it for a second. Eric knew her too well at this point… he always had. He knew he was bloody lying before she’d even thought to lie, really. It was frustrating, particularly when lying was for his best, but she had bloody failed at pushing him away at each and every turn. There was no going back from it now… she could admit that she had never stopped loving him, and that was why it was so difficult to not be selfish and want to be with him. If she were a better person, she would run in the opposite direction and make sure that Eric had the best chance of a normal life. But she hadn’t been able to do that yet, and she didn’t know if she had it in her.

It had been a damn long shift so far, and the night wasn’t even half over. Amaris was just glad that it was relatively slow. The weekend was coming to an end, after all, though the regulars were still in. Amaris had just filled up a crate of dirty dishes, and picked it up, struggling for only a moment before carrying it into the backroom to be cleaned. By the time she got back, she noticed a new face at the bar. “What can I get for you?” She asked him, as she adjusted the strap of her shirt. She hated how every bloody shirt she had to wear put her scars on display for bloody anyone to see, but there was nothing to do about that. She recognized the bloke as a regular, so it was nothing he hadn’t already figured out on his own. He had bloody eyes, after all.

Outfit

Jaxon Jameson Cole

(I couldn't help myself....)

Jaxon slipped out of Moribund's into the darkness of night. Of the few that loitered in the alleyway, none seemed to pay him any mind. His height usually garnered attention, but the crowds in Knockturn were rough enough that nothing really merited staring at anyone for too long--never knew when that lingering look would get you cursed.

Jax was not leaving the shadowy place, just yet. He'd finished his business with his allies, but another were would still be receiving his attention this evening. The pretty little thing--Amaris--had gone and registered herself... Why she had gone and done that was an answer Jaxon didn't have, but was very curious about...Especially with the thoughts that had been bouncing around in his head about making the grand reveal himself. He still had to talk to Alex about that, once he got the idea straight in his own head. There were complications to consider, of course. He had been a were for so long now; there would have to be some fabrication to cover that up, which would take a were being willing to bite him for a fresh wound. But was there some test that could prove he had been infected years prior? He honestly did not know... All the more reason to talk to Alex, but Jax hadn't gone to the other man yet because his gut told him the other were would not support such an action. But Jaxon deeply believed werewolves needed a public figure to rally behind--someone to be their emissary to the rest of the wizarding world to show that the fears towards werewolves were prejudicial and caused more harm than good.

It was but a few steps from where he was to where he was going. The seedy pub was quiet tonight. Still, Jax kept his distance from the other patrons. He wasn't here for them. He was here for her. As the seeker slipped onto a bar stool, he saw her, her scars visibly on display for all to see. Jax had seen them before, and never stared. He had been lucky with his attack, if you could call it that, the marks left by that fateful life changing bite were in his thigh. The were who had bitten him had caught the artery there; it truly was a miracle the seeker had survived. How he had managed it was still somewhat of a blur to him, truly-

Amaris came offer and made the standard barkeeper inquiry. "Whatever German beer you got on tap is fine," the seeker responded, pulling off his snapback and dropping the hat on the bar in front of him. Long boney fingers ruffled his mess of curls, and he continued: "Tall boy, big as you got." Then, the charmer flashed her a grin. His dimple made its grand revel, divoting his cheek as he studied at the woman. She looked a bit worse for wear, but she was still there--which meant she hadn't been snatched up by those fucked up experimenting douches. He was always a little nervous when he came in that one day she would just be gone. Jaxon didn't really know the woman, but she was were...and that meant something to him. It gave her his protection, to a degree, whether she wanted it or not.

(Same outfit as Moribund's thread)

Sundays were usually quiet, thankfully, and Amaris liked any shifts where she had less intoxicated Death Eaters to deal with. However, it wasn’t quite dead, either. Sunday night meant that the workweek would start up once again, and plenty of those that worked at New Beginnings wanted to drink away that particular fact, or so it seemed. But it was a more sullen kind of drunk, instead of the raucousness atmosphere in the bar that happened near the end of the week. These small little quirks were just something that she’d picked up over the months she’d worked there. She truly couldn’t believe that she had been back in London for nearly a year now, as it felt like ages ago that her brother had tracked her down in Thailand. He would have been better off without her, of course, but he had been too damn persuasive and Amaris was quite sure that he would have forced her to come home if she hadn’t agreed to it. She really didn’t think he understood that there was nothing for her in London except being a burden to him, and having to worry about the Ministry at every passing moment.

And now he was gone. She had moved back to London for her brother, and now he was dead. Amaris knew that she shouldn’t think that it was her fault… he’d died at work, and him being a hit wizard had nothing to do with her. But she tended to blame herself nonetheless. It had been two months, and it truly wasn’t getting any easier. She was barely sleeping, hardly eating… and she knew that Eric was worried about her. Amaris was trying to act as normal as possible, but it was hard. It was easiest at work, oddly enough, because it gave her something else to focus on. She had to think about what she was doing at any given moment… had to work hard enough to keep the job, and she needed that kind of distraction. It worked bloody wonders, really. She might feel like hell being on her feet all night… she might hate having to dress up, particularly when it meant she couldn’t hide any of her scars or injuries, and she hated how much Ares put her on edge… but she needed this job, and she really bloody needed something else to focus on other than her shitty life sometimes.

She was exhausted, but she would push through the shift. It wasn’t a horrible time of month… The next day was the new moon, which mean that she nearly physically felt the best that she could feel. Of course, she was still getting almost no sleep—a mix of nightmares that had progressively gotten worse over the past months, and the fact that she was gaining too much of a tolerance for alcohol and it was becoming more difficult to numb them. She still tried, because going to sleep sober was just asking for a horrific night’s sleep, but usually, she got nightmares no matter how much liquor she’d imbibed in an evening. It was particularly difficult on the nights that she worked, unfortunately. It might provide her with a good distraction, but it also took away time that she could be spending drinking enough to get to sleep later. Obviously, she couldn’t get bloody hammered at work. Trying to avoid nightmares wasn’t important enough to get fired over.

Instead, she just focused on work and making sure that she did nothing wrong. It was easier to do when the pub was dead. When it was crowded, she was easy to fluster, and sometimes panicked when she felt like she was doing something wrong—particularly when her boss was watching. Now, though, it was relaxed. She could handle relaxed, as long as she still had enough to do. There were regulars here that she hated seeing, and there were ones that she didn’t mind. The one that had just situated himself at the bar was one of the latter types, and she was relieved that someone worse hadn’t just walked in the door. “Got it,” she said with a small smile, as she grabbed a tall glass from under the bar. Amaris then headed over to their taps, expertly filling up the glass with beer to avoid it foaming. If it was one thing she’d certainly gotten the hang of, it was that, and she was glad for it because it had been something that had pissed off a lot of her customers when she’d first started working there. Once she filled it up, she turned and set it back on the bar for him. Smiling slightly again, she picked up a clean dishrag and began to wipe off the bar… she felt like she had to be moving and doing something. Standing still wasn’t an option.

Jaxon watched as the little were went about preparing his simple drink. Beer was safe--beer wouldn't let his anger take hold. And he liked it... The barkeep was such a little thing--cute and unassuming. The scars she wore so visible made him curious about her. She didn't hide them--magically or with clothing. It impressed him really---that boldness. He had never been that bold. His were easier to disguise though--only a few scratch marks on his chest and abdomen. His bite was on his leg--upper thigh. Bastard that turned him had been going for the artery--that kill instinct. Jaxon knew the experience now. He hunted many a full moon--keeping his victims to deer, wolves, mountain cats, occasional bear, and the like though. He never wanted to be responsible for turning someone else. That was honestly why he stayed single. Better to not take that risk...

Beer set in front of him; he flashed the girl a wide, bright smile. "Thanks," was the simple reply he gave her. A long drink later, his attention was still on the other were. She never stopped moving. Wiping down an area of the bar that he honestly couldn't tell any difference in before and after the action. "You don't ever stop, do ye? Come on back over here and give a bored patron some company. I ain't so bad," the seeker drawled. Coaxing her over with a beckoning gesture with his hand.

Working here, she saw all kinds. This haunt didn’t exactly draw the best and the brightest in the wizarding world… well, by the ministry’s standards, at least. They were all down here for one reason or another, after all, and those that shouldn’t be there stuck out plain as day. They were the ‘worst’ the wizarding world had to offer, which was why they were shooed down there and people just looked the other way. She was there because she’d made the stupid mistake to register with the ministry. With that, she’d had a charmingly long list of rules and regulations that came with being a werewolf in the United Kingdom… she wasn’t allowed access to St. Mungo’s if she was injured or sick, she couldn’t use magic to speed along the recovery of any injuries, and she couldn’t use concealment charms. That was the damn kicker. It wouldn’t have mattered to her, because she normally dressed in jeans and sweaters and whatever hid her injuries, but at work… at work she was meant to be the pretty thing behind the bar, and that meant dressing in a way that she’d prefer not to. But really, there were regulations far worse than that, and each one of them further proved the mistake she’d made in registering. Amaris was barely even fazed now. Each time the Ministry came up with something new, she just acted accordingly and did what she was bit. What was the damn point in fighting it anymore?

But when she was here, she truly saw, and heard, more than people probably wanted her to. She just acted like she didn’t, but she knew that the Death Eaters were nearly always up to something. Whatever it was, she didn’t even want to know, which was why she did what she could to avoid paying too much attention to it all. Yes, the Ministry might thing that the ‘best and the brightest’ were far from Knockturn Alley, but she’d heard enough to know that there were some down here that could give the ‘decent folk’ outside of Knockturn a run for their money as far as intelligence went. She didn’t even want to know what they would do, with how smart some of them were and what they were capable of. She knew there was always a possibility of getting caught in the crossfire, working out here. But she recognized the ones she needed to keep her distance from, as much as possible at least, and the man in front of her didn’t particularly seem like one of them. He’d always been nice… nicer than most other people that talked to her in here, as it was clear as day what she was.

Amaris nodded in response to his thanks before continuing to tidy up. Even when Ares wasn’t around, she tried to do as much as possible. She bloody needed this job, more than anything, and while he told her that she didn’t have to stay moving all the time, she wasn’t sure at all if he had just been tricking her. Amaris didn’t want to risk it, which was why she always found herself busying about in some way or another, even if she wanted to bloody collapse out of exhaustion. But when she heard the bloke speak, she glanced over at him, “Just doing my job,” she said, with a shrug, as he mentioned her not stopping. She needed this job. She didn’t know what she’d do without it. Yet she found herself putting the rag back under the bar and heading over to him, as she was sure that Ares would be more pissed if she denied a customer than if the bar was a little dirty. “I’m sure you can find company far more interesting than me,” Amaris replied, raising her eyebrows. Arguably, she was the least interesting person in this room, and certainly the bloody worst at talking to people, as it commonly just put her on bloody edge all the time.

Jaxon craved interaction...and he could easily get it in the more flashy clubs around town. But there he was expected to keep to the playboy persona he had built over the years as a Quidditch pro. Sometimes, he needed to be something else. This was one of those times... He didn't feel like pretending he was just like everyone else. He wasn't. For so many reasons, he wasn't. In every social circle he was a member of, he fit, but not really. The man had always fit in most anywhere, being the adaptable sort--and he was still very good at that. But the last few years, it had become quite clear to him that even with all the acquaintances, teammates, and allies that he had--that he was very alone. With the other werewolves, he stood apart, because he had money, because he took the risk of playing Quidditch and being a celebrity. With other Quidditch players, he was a bloody werewolf. They might not have known, but he KNEW. He knew and so the obligation of keeping everyone at a bit of distance fell on his shoulders. With muggles, he was magical. With magical, he was muggleborn and a celebrity. So, while he kept his bed full, his heart grew more empty with each passing year. That was hard for a man who had a lot of love to give. He had never kept anyone at arms length before he was bitten. He loved fearlessly then--and deeply. Never once did the chance of getting his heart broken keep him from wearing it on his sleeve.

Now...he couldn't do that. He couldn't love someone--and more importantly he could not let them love him. The only chance he saw now for him to ever actually be with someone again was to be with a werewolf. He knew that some gave it a go with the unafflicted, but he could not imagine that. Either the other person didn't know---and really, how long could someone keep up that lie? Or they did know and they were taking the risk of being in the wrong place at the wrong time and getting turned themselves, or of having the wolf stolen away by the Ministry fuckers...

When Jaxon had first seen Amaris, he'd been stuck by her beauty. She was gorgeous--and her scars did not diminish that, in his opinion. The thought had crept into his mind over the times that he'd been to check up on her that he might be able to give her a better life...but he knew that she had someone else. He did not stalk her, but he'd seen her with her beau a time or two. Seemed like a good enough bloke--but the man was just a man...and he wondered how long that could last. No matter how caring someone might have been, could an unafflicted person ever really understand what it was like to be a werewolf? They could not know the pain of the transformation--the passion of the hunt. Being a wolf was something he hid because of the danger the Ministry posed and the ignorant prejudice against his kind. Sure the days before the full moon were a bit rough, but he loved that night. Maybe he shouldn't have--but he did. He loved running--he loved hunting--he loved fighting. It was a different type of adrenaline and fulfillment. Beautiful in its own way.

Jaxon was grinning, his dimple winking at Amaris when she put down the cloth and came back over to him. "Well, that is up to me to decide," the country boy countered in his slow diction when she suggested there was more interesting company to be had in the pub that night. Jaxon glanced around. "I sure ain't seein' none," he joked, trying to lighten the mood. It made him a bit sad that she always seemed to worried and overworked. Being turned had not taken away the soft heart that the man had long possessed. He wanted to save the world--to make it better. People like her deserved it...weres like her, the ones that were registered and treated so poorly, they were who made him want to come forward and register himself. He really believed that he could do good as a public face of the were community--dispel some of the myths and prejudice that the Ministry was building up against the magical creatures.

"I won't make ye talk to me, though, if ye don't want to," he told her. His dark mahogany eyes were warm and kind--different than most of the gazes that patrons of this particular pub made habit of giving the pretty bar maiden.

Getting this job had been sheer luck. She had just about given up on the concept of work altogether, as much as it had pained her to even consider it. Dorian had found her in her travels… her brother had tracked her down and made her come home and live with him, and she wasn’t about to sit around and mooch and do bloody nothing to help out. She was enough of a burden as it was, without being unemployed on top of that all. When she had finally conceded that she would find no job outside of the one place that she belonged, she had come down here looking for work. She hadn’t expected anything at that point—she didn’t exactly have the knowledge required to work at most of these shops, and so she had found her way here. She didn’t love it… hell, she didn’t even like it, but she needed it. She needed some kind of money, and this was the best she could make without stooping to other means that she couldn’t even consider. She’d done a lot in her past that she wasn’t proud of, but there were some routes she couldn’t take even for money. Of course, it wasn’t too long after that she’d gone to that level for Wolfsbane.

Over the years, she had been able to get it on and off, but it was never on a regular basis. So when she had gotten back to London, Amaris had obviously done a bit of looking around to see if she could figure out a way to get the potion once more. That was how she had found herself in a position where a man had offered her something that she hadn’t thought at the time she’d be able to refuse. Part of her had told her that shagging someone for Wolfsbane was exactly what she hadn’t wanted to do, but it had seemed like a fair enough trade. The months that passed proved that sometimes, there was something very nearly worse than the transformation, and that was that amount of humiliation. But she kept it up. She needed the potion more than she needed to have self-worth, but that bloke had come and gone. She didn’t even know where he was anymore.

Now that she was with Eric, something like that was off of the table anyhow, though she liked to tell herself she wouldn’t stoop back down to that level again anymore. But she didn’t know if she even believed herself. She was desperate… that was the word for it, and a nice one really, and if something made her life easier, Amaris knew she would have a hard time turning it down. Since that was off of the table, she did her best to not even think about it. Truly, she didn’t even want to remember all that had happened back then, which was why she didn’t let it cross her mind… let alone voice it to anyone. Except for with Eric, but he knew more than she liked him to about her at times.

She knew how hard it must be for Eric to be with someone like her. While she wanted him to realize how much better he could get, he never so much as entertained the thought. She loved him, but it was selfish of her to be with him and she knew it, and it was a hard thought to even get out of her head at work. It was probably why she tried to keep herself as busy as she did. She needed to… needed something else to occupy her mind for a short time. She also commonly kept moving because she felt like she’d fall asleep if she stayed still for too long… side effect of being bloody constantly exhausted. But when the regular… Jaxon… she remembered that she had gotten his name before and that it was Jaxon, spoke to her, she didn’t pause in stopping what she was doing and heading over to him.

Doing what people said… it was just habit. She knew that he didn’t mean it as any kind of order, she could see that he was different that the other sort that came here, but it wasn’t something that she really had to think about it. It was self-preservation, in a way. “Suppose it is,” she answered, stopping herself from fidgeting. Standing still and doing nothing… it was just odd. She was so used to making sure she was always doing something, even though Ares had gotten mad at her for doing that once before as well. Still, being busy was better than doing nothing. “Perhaps somewhere a bit friendlier than here,” Amaris countered. Most people here had an obvious tell… a blatant reason that had them coming to a place like this one. Jaxon, though? She hadn’t figured him out.

To give herself something to do, she grabbed a glass from under the bar, followed by a nearby bottle of firewhiskey. Once she’d poured herself a rather substantial serving, her gaze moved back to his. “It’s fine… I think I can afford a break,” she added, with a small smile, as she didn’t really know if Ares was planning on leaving his office at all that evening. Besides, it didn’t seen as though anyone needed serving, and she wouldn’t mind just talking to someone who wasn’t either spiteful, handsy, or violent. It was a pleasant change, to say the least.

Sitting on this rickety old bar stool looking at h"You lookin' to run me off already?" he drawled when she mentioned he might find better company for conversation elsewhere. The question was offered to her with one of his charming grins; the young wizard's dimple winked at her, emphasizing the good-natured teasing in his country twang. "Ain't another barkeep in town that is half as purdy as you," he told her. There was nothing lewd in the way he made the compliment. He meant it. He still thought Amaris was as beautiful as she had ever been. Her scars did not take away from that in his eyes. Plus, even though she didn't know about him, he felt more permitted to be attracted to her--thoughts coming to him about what he might be like to having someone like Alex had in Ris--someone who could know everything, who could run with him on the full moon, who could hunt and fight and fuck--and just see behind the curtain.

His mind shouldn't wander to such places, though--he knew of the wizard who was clearly in love with the brunette across the bar from him. The friendly level of stalking the seeker kept up with for the weres he checked in on kept him reasonably aware of the people in the other were's lives. Amaris was loved, even if the relationship was doomed due to irreconcilable differences between the bitten and the unbitten, he would not do anything to tamper with something that gave the woman happiness. He wasn't going anywhere and was in no hurry.

It was a touch alarming the size of the drink Amaris poured for herself, but Jaxon did nothing to betray that worry. It was surely not his place to judge. He'd probably drink a good bit more than that if he were in her shoes. Damn the fucking Ministry for the way it ruined the lives of good people because of a bloody curse. It was unjust in every sense.

The seeker grinned when the other were agreed she was due a bit of a break. "That ye are. Hardest workin' woman I know of, wear a man out just watchin' ya go." He was friendly and warm with his small talk. Jaxon was good at easy, casual conversation--talking without saying much to just fill the air, to let his warm, country drawl to just wrap around whoever he was speaking to. The man's gravelly bass had a way of embracing those who listened to it just like a hug from his strong arms. It was hard to hear him speak without feeling safe or at the very least care for. His demeanor radiated strength and protectiveness further. The bristle of his muscles and the flex of his shoulders and neck beneath his fitted shirt promised the man was always ready for a fight--had to always be on guard when down in Knockturn. Never could tell when someone might want to start a bit of ruckus.

He looked familiar. It was the thought that she always pushed away each time he came into the pub—the nagging, unavoidable feeling that she knew him from somewhere, and she hated that more than anything. Amaris tried to tell herself that it was just because he was here so often, that she saw him so much that it only made sense that she’d start to wonder if she knew him from somewhere else… but she didn’t believe her own excuses. He looked familiar, and that was that. She knew what that meant, as there was pretty much only one place that she knew anyone from, and that was from back at Hogwarts. After all, she graduated… been bitten, immediately fucked off out of the country the moment that she could, and she traveled around too much to ever think she’d run into someone she’d met now randomly in London. It wouldn’t make sense.

And if she wasn’t at work, she was nearly always at home. Amaris supposed she could have known him from a night of drinking. Copious amounts of alcohol felt like the only way she could numb herself, the only way she could make herself forget everything else for a while. When she went out to drink, she didn’t stop until she was cut off or nearing on passing out enough to stumble home and fall into bed. If she met people on those nights, she probably wouldn’t remember them the next day. Maybe that was it. It wouldn’t exactly be a shining moment in her life, if she recognize Jaxon from that… which would mean he saw her looking like an absolute wreck and wasted out of her mind… but it was better than the alternative. It was better than even slightly considering the fact that she could know him from Hogwarts.

That was always the most difficult. Trying to explain away why she was so entirely changed now… quiet. Subdued. Deferential… where the hell her backbone had gone, why she was suddenly so boring. Amaris had heard all the questions on the off and unfortunate occasions that she had run into someone who she’d known back then. She didn’t know why she tried to hide it, even in those rare moments. She was registered. If they were that curious, they could check up on it and find out for themselves. Her dirty little secret was scarcely a secret at all, yet still she tried to put on a good face for people who had known her. Tried to act like herself so they wouldn’t be suspicious. Sometimes it worked—but more often than not, she got too exhausted to keep it up.

Since she couldn’t allow herself to think about her past, she chalked up his familiarity to the more embarrassing route. He’d probably seen her out somewhere and she just couldn’t place it because of how much she’d drank—and he was being nice and not bringing it up because of how out of her mind she’d been… to the point he probably didn’t want to even say it out loud. That was all. Not Hogwarts. Just… her shitty current existence. That was all he knew. Amaris smiled wryly at his words, her shoulders lifting in a half-hearted shrug. “Only with the best of intentions.” She couldn’t think of a reason why he belonged her. Most were easy to figure out. And she was and always would be under the opinion of people who seemed nice, or normal, finding a safer place to park their arses and drink all night. It meant she didn’t have to worry about them, and they got to have a better night than she would here. Amaris supposed telling customers to go somewhere else wasn’t exactly good for business, but she considered it her good deed to get people to reconsider where they were spending their evening.

Amaris couldn’t tell if he was joking when he spoke again, but she figured he must be—and so she laughed, but perhaps a second or two too late to think that something was actually funny. “I doubt that,” she answered, immediately feeling like she would have been better off accepting the compliment and moving past that particular topic of discussion. Instead, she looked away to make sure that no one else needed a drink, but they didn’t. Sundays. She liked that they were quiet nights, but not when she was saying too much to a familiar stranger. She busied herself with her drink, thankful for the distraction and needing the burn of the firewhiskey down her throat to settle her for a moment. The alcohol always put her more at ease, which was the problem with it, if one was asking Eric’s opinion… he thought it put her more at risk, which she secretly agreed with, even if she didn’t want to admit that she just didn’t care.

With the bar as dead as it was this evening, at least for now, she knew that she would be better off keeping up this conversation and entertaining a patron than trying to clean up nothing and fiddle around trying to pass the time. That, and she didn’t mind his company—she didn’t like that she recognized him, but he was nice. She would just focus on that. Nice enough to issue her compliments that certainly wouldn’t true, but she wouldn’t fault him for that. “Well I’ll slow down so I don’t tire you out.” Amaris said, though her joke, as always, fell flat just because she was too exhausted for it to come across right. Sometimes she wondered why she even bothered trying to act normal, when it was obvious to anyone with eyes what she was.

is fellow werewolf, the people they had once been seemed so far away. Even though Jaxon had kept up with his old playboy ways, flirting and flashing that devil-may-care smile all around, he saw the shift that had taken place inside himself. He lived with the anger that he'd never known before--he saw himself shift from carefree without a worry in the world to keeping everyone he cared about at arms length, close enough for them not to really notice, but far enough away that no one was in danger from him or his secret. Amaris was even more drastically changed. He remembered her--passionate and alive--a true Gryffindor firecracker. She'd been as much of a flirt as himself back in their school days. He tried find hints or glimpses of that feisty witch in the woman in front of him, but there was nothing more than shadows in her eyes.

He wondered if she remembered him....remembered the temper-less, laid-back, good-natured Hufflepuff whore that he'd been in their teenage years. Had they ever gone to bed together? He couldn't even say for sure--he'd wager yes, but couldn't be sure. He'd been with a lot of people over the years--he'd surely tried back at parties at Hogwarts...and really how often did he try to bed someone and fail? But their historical shag status didn't matter. What mattered was the plight on this once vibrant woman's life because of a curse she surely never chose.... He had a duty to make sure she was safe and had at least some semblance of a decent life.

She didn't seem to believe his compliment, which made the playboy smirk to fade into a frown. His brow furrowed and he shook his head--dark curls falling into his face as he did so, he tamed them back, putting his snapback back on--Bill to the back. "Ain't no reason to be modest, darlin'. You're gorgeous as ever. Ain't a soul I've seen slanging drinks that's got a thang on you." Jax hated that the girl's confidence had been eroded by their shared affliction. He blamed it on the Ministry. Being a were wasn't the worst thing ever, but the restrictions, regulations, and prejudices the Ministry had caused made life horrible for the majority of the afflicted. His life would surely be ruined if the truth ever came out about him...but here he was, thinking all the time about outing himself, taking a public stand for were rights, but he knew Alex wasn't in support of that. So, he hadn't taken action.

Amaris agreed to slow down for his sake--and the seeker was grinning again. "Well, that is mighty kind of ye. I appreciate the company." He drawled as he ran a finger over the tall beer glass in front of him, streaking a line up the side breaking up the frosty opaqueness. "Was thankin' about how thangs used to be when we were back at school. Shit sure has changed a lot." He wanted to tell her he was like her--but he wasn't. He hadn't endured what she had for registering--and whatever else she had experienced because of the lycanthropy. But he wanted her to know that he didn't think less of her, even if he couldn't come out and say he was a wolf, too.