The American in Rory Fallon's Pub (Killian)

[Stuart LaRoche]

((Tuesday, August 5))


Cat's Claw was in a bad way, and it was obvious by the mood at Rory Fallon's Pub tonight. The An Taoisigh had declared the entire state of Carrick under Prohibition as of this past Friday. Stuart's mind was blown when he read about it in the paper. This was Ireland, even if it was Magical Ireland -- the entire country was fueled on beer and whiskey. What were they going to outlaw next? Sex?

He imagined that people would turn to homemade stills and bathtub gin to get by. On one level he found this amusing, since he and Zippy had come from a family of gin runners in Canada. He should take up gin running again -- it was in his blood. On another level, he found this enforced sobriety difficult. No whiskey, no beer. Not even in private homes. He still had half a bottle of whiskey hidden under the sink, and he had no intentions of voluntarily handing it over. He had no idea what he was going to do when it ran out. Whiskey had run his life, especially this past month. God, he'd needed it.

Stuart had come to Fallon's tonight, not for a nice lager, sadly, but to get out of his flat. Zippy was making dinner for Eve tonight and had told him in so many words to beat it for a while. He figured he'd come here and mourn the loss of alcohol with everyone else in town. When he arrived at the pub -- no, the diner -- it was the emptiest he'd ever seen it, and he knew that Fallon's was going to be hurting for business with this prohibition.

Since alcohol wasn't being served at the bar it was free to use for food. Stuart found an open spot at the end of the bar, away from the few other patrons who had come in for a bite to eat. He ordered the salt cod pie that Nicky had ordered the last time they were here and a glass of water, and sat staring at the counter as he waited for his food to arrive.

[Killian Schisler]

"Damn. This place must be screwed in the head."

The notice on the window stated as clear as glass that prohibition was currently in affect throughout the state of Carrick. Killian let out a hearty laugh. "They might as well try getting people to give up their wands as well." There was no way in hell that this prohibition would ever be entirely successful. The people here needed their liquor, and they would find some way to get it. Regardless of the apparent lack of Guinness inside the 'diner', Killian still went in to get something to eat.

The interior looked like many other Irish pubs he had been into, but the atmosphere was definitely lacking. There wasn't any of the raucous laughter or singing that normally occurred inside of a pub, in fact, the place seemed entirely stale. The place was much more empty than it had looked from the outside, and there wouldn't be a problem finding somewhere to sit. Regardless, Killian was used to conversation when he ate, and he slid into a seat near the end of the bar next to a bearded fellow. It didn't take long for a waitress to come and take his order.

Putting his cap on the counter, he answered her. "Aye lass. Since you've seemed to have taken on the appearance of a French pastry shop, I guess I'll have to pass on the pint. Give me a glass o' water, and how 'bout some boiled bacon and cabbage?"

He'd have a real drink a little bit later, but the water would have to do for now. Leaning back on his stool a bit, he took in the rest of the patron's around the diner, and gave a little chuckle at the amount of water glasses he saw. He gave the man next to him a nudge with his elbow. "Eh lad, I'll tell ya, this place looks to have about as much life as a graveyard. Hell, the horses out front show more life during their meal." He took a moment to set his bag on the ground. "The names Killian," he said with an extension of his hand.

If he had to eat without his liquor, he'd be damned if he'd have to sit here and eat in silence as well.

[Stuart LaRoche]

Stuart had never heard Fallon's so quiet. He could hear the conversation of people two tables away from where he sat. Usually it was so noisy he and Nicky had to lean close to hear what the other person was saying, not that he ever minded doing that with her.

He had been silently sitting at the bar, thinking about how quiet the place was, when noise suddenly arrived in the form of a lanky and gregarious Irishman taking the seat next to him. He placed his cap on the bar and ordered his food, and Stuart had been about to turn away and casually slide to the next seat over, away from the man, when the man nudged him with his elbow and began speaking to him. Stuart was completely annoyed. All he wanted to do was to eat his dinner in peace. He should have known better. Why did he think he would be able to do that? Since he'd arrived in town months ago he'd had to get used to one unexpected encounter after another. Say what you might about Irish people, but they were a damn friendly bunch -- at least until they found out you were a redcap.

Stuart didn't say anything at first, just gave a polite nod, hoping that this would put the man off wanting to converse. No such luck. The man extended his hand and introduced himself as Killian, and Stuart was forced to face him. Stuart grasped his hand and shook it. "Stuart LaRoche," he said. "This place usually isn't so dead."

[Killian Schisler]

"Not so dead usually eh? That's good to hear."

The man didn't sound like an Irishmen, that was for sure. This must be the American that Killian had heard of. He gave him an appraising look over, and then turned around to his bag, lifted it up, and slammed it down on the counter. "Let's see here, where could it be..." Killian had virtually his entire head inside the bag, and the sound of his voice was fairly muffled. After a couple of seconds spent searching inside, Killian emerged with a rather small envelope which he promptly stuffed into his pants pocket. He then zipped the bag shut, and dropped it back down on the floor. After taking a sip of water, he turned back around to the man named Stuart.

"So, judging by your accent, you're the Yank I've been hearing so much about eh? I hear you're making quite the name for yourself 'round these parts." Killian's voice was filled with amusement, and he made no effort to try and lower his tone. "But I know better lad, there are some round here that have a tongue capable of clipping a hedge, if you catch my meaning." Of course, it was always possible that this wasn't the American he had heard about at all, but he felt he could safely assume that there weren't many Yanks in and around Cat's Claw.

The others in the place seemed quite appalled by the ruckus of this newcomer, but Killian didn't mind it. He took an impatient stare down the counter at the waitress. He hadn't eaten anything in quite some time, and he was raring to eat the counter if they didn't get that food out soon. After draining the rest of the water from his glass he turned back once again to the man named Stuart.

"But listen to me ramble on, me ma always said I could talk the teeth out of a saw. So, tell me 'bout yourself, what part of America do you hail from, that is if my first guess was indeed correct?"

[Stuart LaRoche]

Stuart had given up on eating his dinner in silence, resigning himself to the fact that Killian looked like he was going to stay put for a while. Now more than ever he wished he had a nice tall whiskey in front of him to take the edge off. As he sat there Killian plopped a big duffel bag on the bar and began rummaging through it, and Stuart turned away, sipping his water. The man was making a big show of looking for something, with his head half in the bag, but Stuart simply looked elsewhere, not wanting to be a party to whatever drama Killian was putting on.

His discomfort grew when Killian began speaking, in what seemed to Stuart the loudest speaking voice possible, about having heard of him. He shifted in his seat and glanced around at the other patrons, many of whom were looking his and Killian's way in disapproval. This was really the last thing he needed. His food arrived as the vocal man continued and Stuart simply put his head down and nodded as he began to dig into his pie, shifting the upper layer of mashed potatoes to get to the flaky white cod underneath.

For as vociferous and embarrassing as Killian was being, however, Stuart sensed no malice coming from the man. Rather, he seemed to think that the town's gossips were at fault, a sentiment with which Stuart entirely agreed. For some reason this town seemed to love to put him in bed with everything in a skirt. Whatever rumors he had actually been guilty of, he was in no way the town gigolo. He'd only been to bed with two women at this point -- surely Ryan Avery and Chad Stevens were way ahead of him in that department. Chewing a forkful of fish and swallowing, he said, "I seem to be the town's entertainment. Y'all don't have a whole lot to do here, I suppose."

Killian was a talkative fellow, but thankfully not one who blathered on about everything and nothing all at once. Stuart found that if Killian kept his voice down he didn't mind him so much. He evidently was interested in Stuart and this immediately sent up a red flag. Why did he want to know so much about the unassuming American at the end of the bar? "I'm from North Carolina," Stuart said cautiously, hoping to deflect attention away from himself. "How 'bout you?"

[Killian Schisler]

The plate of food arrived shortly after Stuart's did, and Killian immediately started digging in. Bacon, mashed potatoes, and cabbage all started getting stuffed into his mouth, as he listened to the American. With his mouth full of food, he simply nodded his head in agreement at Stuart's sentiment of the town's gossip. Up in Lissard things were much of the same, and Killian learned not to let such things bother him much. After all, he was considered to be some kind of enormous ass. A kid who gallivanted off on stupid ventures, leaving his sick mother alone at home.

"I'm from North Carolina,"

"Damn." Killian blurted out with a mouth full of cabbage. He pulled the envelope back out of his pocket and set it on the counter. "Hell lad, I was hoping you'd be from one o' them western states." He lowered his tone just a tad. "You see, this letter here, it's got to be delivered to a friend o' mine way out in California. Normally, I'd send it via an owl and forget about it, but I don't trust those bloody daft birds with a trip that long. I'd send it meself, but I haven't found a reason to take a trip that long yet."

He took another bite of food and stuffed the letter back in his pocket. For just a moment, something of a grimace flashed across his face, but it didn't take long before it changed back to jovial look he usually carried around strangers.

"Eh, it'll take care of itself eventually. But, you asked about me? Well, mine's a strange tale friend. I've been all over," he said with a sweep of his arm. "But, I'm originally from Lissard." He took another gulp of water from the recently refreshed glass of water before he continued on. "Yep, I was born Irish, but I spent a large portion of my life living as a Kraut. A mixed breed for sure."

The plate of food was gradually decreasing as Killian continued to make progress on it, and he shoveled another forkful into his mouth while waiting for Stuart to respond, either with another question, or with more information on himself.

[Stuart LaRoche]

The cod pie Stuart was eating tonight wasn't as good as the one Nicky had gotten when they were here a few Friday nights ago, and he supposed that a different cook had made it. He was a quarter of the way through when Killian's food arrived and the two ate in peaceful silence for a bit until Stuart said that he was from North Carolina. Killian swore and pulled out an envelope, making Stuart glance over with a frown and knit brows. What was wrong now?

He listened in silence as Killian explained he had a letter to be delivered to California. Stuart continued to eat, glad that North Carolina and California were nowhere near each other. He wasn't planning to go home so even if he did live in California he wasn't going to deliver the letter. Besides, he'd had enough of the letter-delivering business after Hannah's wolfsbane dealer, in disguise as a fisherman, paid him to take a letter to Chad Stevens at the An Taoisigh. Told he was delivering Quidditch tickets, Stuart had unknowingly delivered a letter that had caused untold heartache, and his sister had had to pay the price at the hands of Ryan Avery. There was no way Stuart would again offer to deliver letters from unknown people, no matter how much the person was paying.

"Sorry. Can't help you," was all he said as he ate another forkful of fish.

Fortunately no further response was necessary as Killian began speaking about himself. Nicky, true to her word, had given Stuart a map of Magical Ireland and so by now he knew where Lissard was. It wasn't very far from Bent Wand, the town in which he was supposed to be telling people he was born. "Living as a kraut? You mean in Germany? If you're not pure Irish there's nothing but trouble waiting for you in this town, you know. They don't like strangers here."

[Killian Schisler]

"Aye, I do mean Germany. Though I wasn't born there, that's where me Da was from, God bless his soul. In regards to the people 'round here not liking strangers, well, they'll just have to get used to me, because I don't see myself leaving anytime soon!" Killian let out a small chuckle at the end of that last statement. Growing up with a German last name in Magical Ireland had let him grown used to the gossip that often followed him and his family around. He had learned to simply ignore it when at all possible. He took one more bite of food and gave Stuart another appraising look, judging exactly how much he wanted to tell him about his past. Killian had nothing to hide, but it was best to not go about telling everyone everything about you.

"Anyways, moved out to Magical Germany when I was a young lad for school, and moved back home about a year ago, everything in between is pretty much just boring shite." That was the truth, in a nutshell anyways. Killian took another bite of the bacon, and washed it down with some more of the water. The food here wasn't bad at all, though it would taste a hell of a lot better with something more than water to drink.

The thought of finding a place to live occurred to him once again, and he wondered if maybe Stuart might know of anyplace for sale in or around Cat's Claw. Best to get some of the locals' advice before buying something in a new town. If you don't, you have no one else to blame but yourself if the place doesn't work out quite the way you imagined.

"So Stuart, you've been living here for awhile now right? Where might a new citizen go if he was looking for somewhere to stay for an extended period of time?"

[Stuart LaRoche]

Stuart shrugged at Killian's words regarding the town getting used to him. That kind of attitude was easier said than done, in his opinion. As much as Stuart intended to weather the gossip about him like he would a rainstorm, he had to admit that on some level it did bug him. He'd have preferred to go about his life anonymously like he had back home. Here, every move he made was examined and discussed in great detail. Hell, he was afraid to go out and buy condoms because he was sure that would set off another wave of gossip about himself or Nicky or whoever he was supposedly having sex with. And then it would get back to Holly and it would just be a huge mess. He didn't want to see the people he cared about hurt because of their association with him, so lately he'd just been trying to keep out of the spotlight.

He was finishing up his dinner when Killian asked him about a place to live. Stuart glanced at him quickly, wondering if he was seriously asking him, the American who was clearly not from around here. Stuart had been in town less than six months and was hardly the authority on what Cat's Claw had to offer besides gossip. Of course, Killian wouldn't know that, any more than Stuart hadn't known before now that Killian wasn't from around here. "New in town, are you?" Stuart asked, wishing he had a nice pale ale to sip at now that his dinner was done. "I know there's a boarding house but that's temporary. There are a number of flats around the city. If you look in the back of the Herald you'll find listings. I don't know if that's what you're looking for. Some people rent out rooms, too." Stuart paused, raising his glass and his eyebrows as a signal to the waitress to bring him another glass of water. "You're looking to stay here permanently?"

[Killian Schisler]

Permanently? That word seemed rather final to Killian, maybe too final. Then again, the time would come when he'd have to settle down somewhere. He had figured over the last few weeks that it would be here, but now that Stuart had asked him directly, he really didn't want to say it out loud.

"Well, permanently is a rather strong choice of words lad. But, I guess that it would fit. I don't see myself leaving anytime soon, but you can never plan these things out in advance. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that circumstances change. For now though, I suppose I consider this to be my 'permanent' home. So yea, I don't think that the boarding house would work. Not only do I plan on being here longer than a week or two, but I've packed my furniture with me as well," he said with a kick in the direction of his bag. It had taken him long enough to transfigure the furniture down to travel size, and he planned on using it. "I've got enough coin to put down on a place, and I'll definitely consider renting something as well."

He had hoped that Stuart would have been able to offer more advice than to look in the back of the paper, but Killian didn't know how long Stuart had been here. Hell, he might have just shown up a couple of weeks ago, though that would be a couple of weeks sooner than Killian had shown up. He had been steadily wearing down the plate of food, and he slowly stuffed the last bite of food in his mouth. With the empty plate in front of him, Killian leaned back on the stool a bit, and pulled out a small box from his pocket. If he smoked, now would be the time, but instead the box held a small supply of toothpicks. Putting one in his mouth, he extended the box out towards Stuart.

"So, if you don't mind me asking, whereabouts do you live 'round here? Did you go the route of a renter, or do you have a castle 'round here that I'm not aware of?"

[Stuart LaRoche]

Stuart had meant permanent in the sense that Killian was going to be staying in town more than a few weeks; he didn't really need to know the man's itinerary. He said nothing, however, merely nodding as he sipped his water. Stuart usually didn't spend so much time talking to strangers, but the guy was new in town and was simply asking questions. As long as Stuart didn't have to divulge any information about himself or didn't feel threatened he could converse well enough. Killian was larger than life and boisterous, but Stuart didn't perceive him to be a threat right here in the pub. The man was either being funny or a light traveler, because he alluded to his furniture and kicked his bag as if to say it was all in there. Furniture must mean a bedroll, thought Stuart. He did, however, wonder at the wisdom of telling a complete stranger that he had coin to put down on a place, and was surprised that Killian was actually looking to buy something. Apparently the new face in town was well off -- at least enough to buy a house outright.

Stuart scratched the back of his head. "Sorry I can't help you further. I really don't know where you'd find a place to buy. You're better off asking someone who's lived here longer than I have."

Killian held out a box of toothpicks, offering one. Stuart lifted his hand and shook his head. Now the man was asking where he lived, and Stuart began to feel uncomfortable. He glanced around uneasily. Why did Killian need to know where he lived? "I rent. In the city." That was as much as he was willing to offer, and he turned the line of questioning back on Killian to deflect. "What brings you to Cat's Claw? It's not exactly a hotbed of activity."

[Killian Schisler]

This Yank seemed mighty defensive, or maybe, he was simply not much of a talker. Either way, the ball had been bounced back on his side of the court, but this time the question was asked about his business in Cat's Claw. Killian was loud, and jovial, but he wasn't stupid. You didn't last long in his line of work being stupid, and now the conversation had shifted a little too close to home. He chewed the toothpick silently for a second, contemplating a response.

"Aye, what brings me here?" The tone of his voice had hardened just a bit, while he judged exactly what he needed to say. "Would you believe me if I said I came here to scout out players for the Irish quidditch national team? Heh, I can only wish. My real job is much more boring. I'm involved in the shipping business, importing and exporting, in both Magical Ireland and outside of it. Business was slow in Lissard, and I smell opportunity here. It might not be a hotbed now, but I have a sense for these things. We'll have to see if it proves correct this time."

Killian leaned further back on his stool, and ground down on the toothpick a little bit more. He didn't feel that Stuart was in law enforcement, but he had to be careful just the same. He would need to establish himself a bit more, and get to know the key cogs of the town some before he started leaking out what his real business was exactly.

With the meal over, Killian's mind began wandering to more pressing matters. It was getting late, and he needed to find a place to stay before it got much later. He stood up, and shoved his cap back down on his head.

"Aye, it has been a great pleasure meeting you Stuart," Killian said with a mock bowing motion. "But, I'm saddened to say that this conversation should probably end here. I must find a place to hole up for the night." He reached down into his pocket to pull out the necessary galleons needed for the meal, and promptly dropped them down on the bar. "So, as my Ma used to say, May you be blessed with warmth in your home, love in your heart, peace in your soul, and joy in your life. Until next time," he said as he extended out his hand.

[Stuart LaRoche]

Stuart nodded as Killian explained what he was doing in Cat's Claw. It really wasn't any of his business and he didn't have a burning need to know, but Stuart had asked the question as a means of shifting the attention back to Killian. Stuart wondered what exactly he was importing and exporting and decided it was most likely clothing or food of some sort. He declined to question the man any further.

Killian apparently had other things to do than to answer questions posed by an American, because he abruptly stood and made his farewells with the usual amount of Irish moonshine that everyone seemed to possess here. Stuart had no plans to move from this barstool for a while; he couldn't go home and he didn't feel like wandering around. He looked up at the man and grasped his hand, shaking it. "Thanks," he said. "Goodnight."