royal musings

Arthur enjoyed London.

He really enjoyed Europe in general, honestly. It probably helped that the magic community in Europe was a bit more relaxed than those in America (even still) where things were a bit more stringent and forbidden.

He'd grown up in New York, attended Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardly and after he graduated decided going into the ministry simply wasn't for him, though he'd had offers. He'd always enjoyed a challenge and had found it on the other side of the law...a white collar criminal the muggles would call him.

Arthur mostly dealt in paintings (both muggle and magical alike), rare books and grimoires, jewels, potions... and the odd magical creature a time or two. Honestly, the only time a magical creature came into play was when he saw one being mistreated by those he came across (i.e.: those with too much money who loved having animals simply to have them but knew nothing about them).

The animals hadn't chosen to be there so he always found a way to free them and/or return them to where they needed to be.

Thankfully, he wasn't dealing with magical creatures this time. This time he was looking for a reputable buyer for a selection of dark grimoires he'd nicked back in the States from a muggle who'd had no idea what he'd purchased. It was safer for the good of humanity to not have those books in the hands of a muggle.

That was precisely why Arthur (dressed in a tailored muggle suit) walked into a bar in the middle of the afternoon where a group he'd heard about in passing frequented. Word was that they had actually made it a base of operations. Word also was that if anyone in London knew who to speak to about selling a few rare books, it would be this group.

They would know someone who knew someone.

He felt the wards slide over him, allowing him to pass and likely alerting someone of his presence and likely noting that he too was a wizard. He had a feeling though that both the muggle and magical community likely visited the establishment. For now, it was early enough that it wasn't packed. Still, there was a select number of patrons at the bar, drinking away the afternoon. He assessed the room quickly before making his way over to a table, facing the entrance.

If no one came by this time, he'd just return the next day. Try to get a word to one of the Wild Bunch.

It had been a few days since his conversation with Peter and the resulting conversation with Eames regarding a visit from their new werewolf friend.

To be honest, there was a part of him that was looking forward to this meeting and yet, at the same time, there was a part of him that was reserved about it and truly didn't know what to expect.

The latter feeling was one he was all too familiar with. Considering his job, it was probably to be expected.

Whatever happened, it was sure to be entertaining.

One thing that came out of it though were the bestiaries that Peter had sent to him. Arthur had taken the time to merge them together into one and start the beginning of his own with what Eames and he had come across. Including the journals of Ellen Rimbauer and Joyce Reardon.

That house was forever going to be engrained into their lives. The only good thing that came out of it? Eames.

Arthur turned the desk chair around to face the forger and watched him for a moment. "Do you want to go out to dinner tonight?"

They had been out, of course. Done things together.

But he liked being able to call it a date with Eames.

It wasn't just work anymore. It wasn't running for their lives from both the mortal and now the supernatural sort. It was going out for drinks, dinner -- whatever else they decided to do that day as a couple.

He liked that.

artfulforger: That depends. Are you asking about it before or after I claimed it?

bamf_pointman: [Gives him a little smirk.]

Lets go with both.

artfulforger: Before was a nine. Now is a why are you showing off what's mine?

bamf_pointman: 'Why are you showing off what's mine' is not a number, Mr. Eames.

[There was definitely a teasing tone to his voice as he considered the forger. Definitely giving him a hard time.]