Shadows searching in the night (Casey)

After the difficulties and complications of long distance apparition with all its carefully planned stops along the way (and necessary knowledge of muggle transportation on the sea or in the air to try to avoid said complications such as splinching), the brief apparition from Salem to Boston felt like nothing. The only part of him that didn't feel like nothing, however, was his stomach. Despite the fact short trips like this didn't typically cause nausea, he was a little nervous. He had been sent to meet up with someone to obtain an artifact. Casey knew nothing about this person other than she was younger than him, had dark hair that would be down, and her identifying feature would be plaid with "work boots"--whatever those were. Frankly, it scared him that this seemed to describe most young people around these parts in the end of winter/early spring months. Casey sighed and rolled his shoulders back as he walked out of the alley. Hopefully whoever it was would recognize him. He wore the weird t-shirt with "Keep Calm and Carry On" written on it in bold letters. He didn't get the appeal of that or the skinny jeans. Combine that with the fact he'd just cut his hair for the first time since he'd assumed Thors' persona and it had gone from just below his shoulders to a normal length and Casey felt he looked strange. The plain black hoody and the high top sneakers were about the only thing that felt normal (or at the very least unquestionable) to him.

It was a few minutes before Casey found the bar he was supposed to meet the girl at, but he did and he entered it. His eyes searched the room around him and his brows were slightly furrowed with what appeared to be concern or worry or both. His hands were in his hoody's pockets, and he took a moment to observe before he continued in and greeted the barkeep that called out a greeting to him. That was when he seemed a little more relaxed. If he could really be relaxed in a place like this where he really had no idea who he was looking or if the person would even show that was supposed to do the exchange for the magical object with him. Casey sighed as he took a empty seat at the bar. He ordered and paid for an Angry Orchard--supposedly some sign to the other person. The drink sounded odd considering he was used to ale, firewhisky, and butterbeer, but it was suprisingly smooth going down. Now, he supposed it was time to wait.

Casey had to hide the startled, almost relieved surprise he felt at the sudden human contact. It wasn't as hard as he'd imagined to slip back into acting a role. He feigned a look happy surprise and greeted the young woman with a, "Hey!" and a quick, almost awkward half hug like an acquaintance might give. He smirked at her comment about "Mama Griselda" and shook his head. "That old witch? How's she been? Still hanging in there, I hope?"

The tension wasn't missed by Casey, though the growling was too low and quiet for him to hear over the general sounds of the bar around them. Casey took a swig of the crisp, slightly sour beverage. Despite the atmosphere he felt around him, he had to act normal. And normal here was to converse and drink with the long lost friend. He just wondered how long they'd need to interact before they could do the exchange. He supposed it depended on her. While he told Seren he'd be back in a couple hours, he wasn't in a hurry. He had as much time as necessary to ensure they didn't attract any attention or suspicion. Seren understood that things didn't always work out as planned. He just had to keep the promise to return. After all the girl had gone through, he wasn't going to let her down ever again. Since he didn't detect any immediate danger to his person from the girl or see any signs she might have any companions, he figured he could plan on keeping that tonight. Evie said something about pu--err, bars--keeping open only until two, though; hence, the time frame for Seren.

Casey's only concern was whether or not they could keep conversation going in a believable way. He didn't know much about this girl, and while he could carry conversation, he wasn't always one to change the topics for the most part.

Casey had not missed the changing color of his eyes or those who'd entered the pub only moments before. It was clear something was going on, and the girl's quick request to leave clued him in that that something was not good--as though the tension in the room hadn't been enough to clue him into that fact. "Uhh..." he said, his masked accent slipping through slightly in the sound. He recovered it after taking a moment to appear to be going through his evening's plans despite how late it was. "Yeah, you know what, I think I would like that. She gonna be awake this hour?" He began to stand from his stool. He was ready to go as soon as she was. His tab was settled. He'd put American muggle money down as soon as he'd ordered. They wouldn't be able to use that as a reason to chase them down--whoever they were.

This wasn't exactly what he'd signed up for. He wondered what this girl was and what those men were. Werewolves? No, he hadn't really seen the eye thing in anyone like that. Fenrir certainly had ample opportunity to display emotion and savageness that way when Casey had been undercover as a Death Eater. The girl and the men were something else entirely, and Casey wasn't sure what despite the years of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. Whatever they were had gone unnoticed or had been written off as not something he needed to lecture about in class, and now was not the time to refer back to his reading from years ago.

Bloody hell.

It was all he could think the moment the men approached them. They looked tough, and while he knew he had magic, he really didn't want to get America's wizarding government over here with obliviators, so that might be out of the question. He didn't have much experience in the ways of muggle fighting. He was probably royally screwed. These men were much bulkier than his slimmer frame. If he could run at any point, that would be his best bet at getting away alive even if it meant he didn't get the goods Evie had sent him after. He doubted she would continue to delay the planned attack despite it. Things were too concrete, too certain, now. If she waited, who knew what would happen?

"The hell you do to piss our new friends off?" he asked the girl, following suit and putting the bar to his own back. He didn't recognize these brutes, and he highly doubted the acting Lord of the Wizarding UK and Ireland, Teague, would have had much time with recent goings on to track down a public enemy such as himself and send Death Eater brutes after him. No, it had to be something about the girl. Perhaps even their agreed upon trade cargo. Though, how would they know if they weren't wizards? Maybe they were? (The girl had, after all, mentioned a 'stick.') Maybe American dueling was considerably different than where he was from? Intimidation tactics in lieu of a good, proper bow followed by an unleashing of spells? Americans really were odd, if that was the case. And if that was the case, they'd already been beaten into submission based on their lack of available space to move except to the left... Err, maybe not. Those three were seeming a little off now he noticed them.

Hot sauce? Proving herself? Ok, so maybe these weren't wizards of any sort? But why else would she not just apparate them out and away from this lot? They wouldn't be able to follow or expect it and grab on to try to pull them back or side-along, if they were muggles. So, they had to be wizards, didn't they? Because Americans surely didn't have stricter Statute of Secrecy than they did back home, right? (He doubted it without how loosey goosey Americans tended to be on many things these days in general.) And a few mongrels in a pub would be easy enough to take care of with a group of Obliviators.

But as the girl moved to square herself against her challenger in the hot sauce challenge, Casey realized this wasn't some joke. She really was going to drink a whole bottle of hot sauce to get out of some sort of beating. Casey stared back at the girl with furrowed brows, one arched higher than the other, and wide eyes. His mouth was twisted slightly to the right. It was quite obvious he was beyond perplexed. "Why don't we....?" he began to say, but the bloke the girl was challenging popped open his hot sauce bottle and hit the bar top with his fist so hard that the salt and pepper shakers in the metal holders shook.

Casey continued to stare on as the man tilted his head back and began to chug his bottle of hot sauce even if Casey knew he should have better spent his time coming up with a way to prove himself, too. But as the challenge began to draw to a close, Casey decided to approach the girl and try to grab her arm. They needed to disapparate and quickly. He didn't like it here, and he didn't want to give her a chance to get away with that item.

She was trying to fight it? Bloody hell! She had to be stupid! But at least she guided the apparating. Because he had little idea where much was here in America, and with his luck, he would have defaulted a little too close to headquarters for comfort. Instead, they were on some rooftop with gravel, as his palm was unfortunately aware of. He glanced at it, though it was hard to see in the dark of night. He shook off the little pebbles then looked at the girl, who was ranting and using strange American words that didn't even sound English.

"In over my head?" Casey replied, raising a brow. "When you've seen what I've seen, you choose the safest, quickest way out so you get home alive."

Perhaps that was only what he'd taught himself since he'd had a family...once upon a time, but it still stood. He had Kara to return to now, and children. No matter how much older they were than they should be, they were still his children, and he had years to make up for.

"What does it matter if they respect you, anyway? They were eying you like their next meal."

Well, that was all offered much more freely than Casey would have expected. Normally, the Order had had to interrogate or he had had to torture to prove his "allegiance" to the Dark Lord. Not that what this girl...Tabora (Tabby felt too much like a cat, and he didn't feel like thinking about cats at the moment. He'd always had a love-hate relationship with Felix.) seemed particularly important.

The passion for life she possessed made her seem younger to him. He remembered being that Gung ho about the Order when he first started. He was going to make a difference. He was going to do whatever it too no matter the cost. He didn't do it for glory, though. Not entirely. Maybe volunteerin to go undercover had been to prove himself to Moody, but the rest had simply seemed his lot in life. The one thing he had allowed pride to dictate was the on thing he regretted most of all. If he hadn't done that, he'd probably still have a family.

But none of that mattered. What did was getting the object, and apparently that meant some talking. Well, at least she'd given him an in. Casey let his accent through as he asked, "Why on earth would you want to go to England?"