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Melbourne ☆ Radio/YouTube Political Commentator, Freelancer Squib ColumnistKirupachi
27 year old Squib Veela ☆ She/Her

A weekday was no day to get drunk. Keira could almost hear her sister barking those very words at her, if not for the fact she was alone late that night, sipping at an alcoholic beverage within the mostly empty confines of the Muggle bar 'The Tipsy Mozzie'. The cold had kept a lot of people in their homes and business was slow, leaving the journalist by herself by the far end of the establishment.

She had never heeded such warnings and usually just drank when she pleased (one could even argue she was the catalyst of Diana Sharpe's recent liking of the very same liquid), but that day the alcohol was taking longer than usual to pass down her throat. The stress accumulated had been so great that even the simple act of working herself up to a mild buzz was quite the chore. While she was a workaholic by nature, even Keira had her limits, and she felt like they were about to be breached lest she have some sort of break.

With her chin resting firmly in the palm of her hand, the half-Veela watched the 24/7 news channel that was put on blast in the corner of the ample room. Some sort of Muggle politician seemed to be making empty promises. "Yeah, sure you do..." She muttered to the figure in the TV prior to a sip, not actually paying active attention to what the man was saying. She needed something to inject a dose of energy in her, but what?

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Melbourne ☆ Investigative Journalist✩ Kaitore
27 year old Halfbreed Dhampir ☆ HE/HIM

For the most part things had been slow for him, His mother still was the old biddy that also happened to be a large pain in his ass and Gemini fared no better in that department. That happened to be the collection of his life, despite the headaches it showed the relative peace that had hit for him. Which unsettled him immensely, accustomed to constantly being on the move and getting himself involved in the seedy underworld to crack open the next big bit of information that the people of Australia needed to see. Marcus had still been kicking himself after letting the lead of a recently thought to be deceased actor suddenly dug themselves out of the grave, so to speak. He couldn't understand why the famous, especially those with actual families, would up and do that simply for the sake of publicity and fame. 

There'd only been two places he would frequent for meetings or to clear his head just a bit and on a random whim he chose 'The Tipsy Mozzie.' While he wasn't a heavy regular he popped in once in a while to get away from the autonomy that had been The Roo. Shaking things up often gave a charge of a feeling, as if he hit the streak of being unpredictable once more. His hand pressed against the handle of the door as he walked into the establishment without any halt towards his movements. A graceful entry before lagging the door behind slightly to close it rather than letting it slam or force shut on its own, a habit of respect for him. 

'Must be a low ebb everywhere. . .' His head shook in slight dissatisfaction, it was no secret that the young Dhampir supported those that established their own businesses. Even going as far as to draw attention to them in his News Paper's and other publications to give attention based accolades. Those that worked hard and managed to keep afloat deserved the acknowledgement for it. 

Marcus' nostrils took in the scent, a force of habit when he entered areas. That's when the air that swept through his nose caught someone familiar to him which prompted his eyes to scan around the place to spot a single lone woman sitting off towards the side. He made his way over towards her, sitting down before even announcing himself and huddled up towards the bar's counter with a slight raise of his arm to catch the Bartender's attention. "I'll have what she's having."

After making his order he started to remove his jacket and draped it over a single leg getting a bit more comfortable. "Hey there, Keira. Looks like you're trying to hit the happy hour." While it had been clear she'd been here for sometime, there didn't seem to be any sense of inebriation that he picked up. "You know if someone catches you here, they might just start to think you aren't just a social drinker." A gentle joking prod within his words. 

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Melbourne ☆ Radio/YouTube Political Commentator, Freelancer Squib ColumnistKirupachi
27 year old Squib Veela ☆ She/Her

Perhaps good company would do the trick - or so was the response Keira obtained to her mental plea for help, in the form of Marcus Carsen joining her at the bar counter. The woman's gaze was torn from the television set at the sound of the Dhampir's voice, and they were then trained on him with vague curiosity before looking away to focus on the drink he had mentioned. She considered downing the entirety of it to request a refill, but there was so much liquid left in the cup that she limited herself to yet another sip instead. The bartender nodded at his request, and immediately worked on pouring the respective beverage.

"I'll cover this one. Any other, you're on your own." She opted to say rather than immediately respond to his jest, though a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as she did. The Muggle nodded at her request as he served the drink to Marcus. "Anyway. Let them. Maybe they'll also get the impression I'm having way more fun with it all than I actually do, not everything would be so bad." With a light cheers of her glass, she finally straightened her posture and took a larger swig of the alcohol.

"How have you been, stranger? Any interesting tales to tell or are you just here to play drunk with me?" The half-Veela tossed the proverbial ball back on his court. It could be that a discussion among friends would be enough to revitalize her spirit.

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Melbourne ☆ Investigative Journalist✩ Kaitore
27 year old Halfbreed Dhampir ☆ HE/HIM

"That's probably for the best. I can drink most people under a table and out of their pockets." Marcus laughed smoothly as he leaned against the counter until the drink he ordered arrived, sliding across the top of the bar as he caught it effortlessely. A force of habit with certain aspects of his reflexes, luckily enough he hadn't been too worried about the display itself - at best it'd been minor. His head nodded several times with an expression of approval towards her voiced stance. "Anything can look like fun with the right look on your face and a forced laugh or two. Most people can hardly tell the difference these days." His lips pressed into a thin grin before taking a brief sip from the glass that ahd been handed to him. 

He sighed softly and a shrug flowed from his shoulders. "Maybe a bit of both? It's been a rough couple of months for me in one way or another." Harder times did exist for him, there were exposures that made what he'd been dealing with pale in comparison. Yet, it'd been the drain that it all managed to siphon from him that called for just a bit of a break from the usual day-to-day people found himself interacting with. "Not sure if you heard it, a few months back a famous actor, Frankie Dean? Pretty big name, reportedly died and left behind a daughter and a lovely woman? Turns out his 'Death' was more fake than a hidden compartment." The tone of his voice showed a weight irritation, yet the reasons that stapled to it had been largely unknown. 

The tip of his thumb traced along the lining of his jaw from the left and towards the center of his chin in thought. "Which the reason I needed to clear my head from this surge of information is that I'm dating the woman he left behind. . . And pretty much always around the child he left behind." His head shook lightly and a small groan vibrates from his throat. "Guy didn't even have the balls to call his own kid, didn't even try to reach out even a bit." That bit had the Dhampir really miffed, the young girl, Gabby, deserved to have her father in her life and being active. Or, at least, deserved a proper father whom cared enough to invest and build with her. "Either way, I needed to get out for a bit from the tension my house has sometimes. And if her anger sparks. . . Oh man, it's like trying to calm down a raging bull.

An amused chuckle rumbled from him, while it could cause issues and had done so with a few pieces of furniture. It'd been one of the appealing traits in Gemini and mostly because he knew he'd been far more durable and held a string mental willpower to ignore a lot of what would make most of his kind cringe or back away. "But everyone has a storied past, right? When you're a single mother sometimes the other half-past can bite and it bites hard with iron-steel jaws.

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Melbourne ☆ Radio/YouTube Political Commentator, Freelancer Squib ColumnistKirupachi
27 year old Squib Veela ☆ She/Her

"You're kidding." Keira spoke with initial skepticism at the idea that Frankie Dean was very much alive, denial over the information visible on her face. The man had left her cousin behind (she could even argue the woman was her own flesh and blood, even if Veela sisterhoods didn't exactly work that way) with a small child. Being a single mother herself, she couldn't begin to imagine Gemini's struggle as Keira had her ex-husband's presence in her children's education; to think a man would deliberately fake their own death and leave their offspring behind in such a way made her feel sick.

Something that struck her as odd was the fact she wasn't privy to this new turn of events despite it directly affecting her family. It was difficult to juggle that with her quick-tempered nature, as she felt the need to find out where Mr. Dean was so to deck him swiftly in the face - pacifism notwithstanding.

"I'm pretty sure faking your own death is illegal. That's fraud. You can just throw the book at him." Her tone had audibly changed to an upset one, even if it didn't raise in volume. Brows furrowed as she tried to comprehend the situation, as well as what Gemini was going through. Perhaps it was time to pay the woman a visit - it was quite jarring to realize Keira had been oblivious to the whole matter, and it was mostly her own fault as she tended to dive into work and avoid people in general.

"...In any case... How's Gem holding up?" She hadn't exactly wanted her injection of energy to come through anger, but it was most certainly the quickest way to enliven a half-Veela.

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Melbourne ☆ Investigative Journalist✩ Kaitore
27 year old Halfbreed Dhampir ☆ HE/HIM

"I wish I was, honestly. But no, apparently they've under it some guise that it was some kind of important work." From the sound of things it also seemed like the man had been wrapped up in something far more serious than what Gem had been telling him. Even so, that had been her own personal history, the kind of information that he didn't really need and understood the distance and respect of it all. When and if she wanted him to know and understand the full story she'd tell him. Until then he knew the most he could do involved being supportive to both her and Gabby when they needed him as a rock the most. Still, it was an awkward avenue for the man, not really believing he found himself in such a position in the first place. 

"It's only illegal if there isn't a good or government backed reason. He's a well connected man from what I gather, his name still holds a lot of weight and sway." Trying to poke at an individual in that particular position had always been far more of a gamble in finesse than anything else. Families that held a sense of political clout in different arenas had been difficult target under the best of circumstances. "Plus, I think he's in the States right now. I don't think he plans to come back here. Did offer Gem that I'd go with her there but I'm pretty sure she's still mulling it over it." His head shook lightly and he offered a gentle shrug while pulling the glass of his drink to his lips and taking a modest sip from it. 

"At first, badly. From what I gathered she didn't even know herself, she was blindsided by a reporter who had access to the skinny after a gig. So. . . As you can imagine between the shock and the lack of knowledge at first she found herself with a few drinks in." Unfortunately, Marcus held an eidetic memory, the moment flashed in his mind so vividly that he could still hear the ringing of the key attempting to push into the lock of the door, the smell of freshly consumed brew that wafted around the young woman when she cam barreling into his home in a stumbled drunkenness. "Set the couch on fire a bit too, I'm probably lucky that's all she set on fire. Trying to replace more than just that would've been a hell.

Not to mention, it'd been a moment that somewhat forced him to admit his feelings to the cheeky Half-Veela. Who, even while inebriated, still managed to be even -more- cheeky than usual. "I'm pretty sure it's still bothering her considering that she spent the time mourning him as if she buried the actual body.  At least the initial reason why she'd been worried about the news had been settled that night easily."

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Melbourne ☆ Radio/YouTube Political Commentator, Freelancer Squib ColumnistKirupachi
27 year old Squib Veela ☆ She/Her

"Important work...?" Keira trailed off in confusion, although not expecting a followup to her words of any sort, letting Marcus continue instead. Had Frankie Dean been involved in something shady, or governmental? What sort of action could possibly justify faking one's death in such an elaborate way, and leave one's family behind like nothing? Were they in danger if he had remained alive? Many other questions of all kinds sprouted in the woman's mind, but she knew there was no point in asking Marcus about it. His information was second hand at best. All they could do was look for incongruities in the available information and try to figure something out while waiting more of it to rain on their heads. It was something deeply unsettling for her, as she was not the type to just sit and wait for anything.

If the man was well connected, it was likely that he could avoid extradition; if Gemini herself hadn't known of the fact, nor had Marcus, it made sense that Keira didn't either despite her job. It was something mostly kept under wraps, in that case. "I assume the story didn't blow up yet. Who's the reporter and what's he got to gain from keeping it under wraps?" Waiting for the right moment? Wanting to have leverage? Gag order? A number of possibilities came up but there wasn't enough information to go on. She was suspecting that her blood boiling was influencing her judgement as well, and made a conscious effort to stop herself from pursuing a destructive train of thought.

She attempted to release at least a portion of her anger in a deep sigh, and proceeded to take another swig of the beverage in her glass - just like that, it was gone. How amusing was it that she had spent a solid half hour in that bar without even taking a sip, and it only took one story from Marcus for her to completely finish off her drink? "I can't even imagine what she's going through right now." If her ex-husband had pulled such a stunt instead of them pursuing a divorce she would likely have wanted to kill him with her own two hands, pacifism be damned. The possible agony was too great for her to picture in her mind. "Just... Let her breathe for a while. There's not much to do. This is stupid..."

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