Best Said Drunk

The news was disturbing. That much was evident, because nothing short of an extremely devastating catastrophe could drive Alexandria Marwolathe on the path to self-harm, especially after explicit instructions from the St. Mungo's Healers to avoid any strain on her mental health. Apparently, hangovers came under that category. "Announcing to your recovering daughter that I have found a 'match made in Heaven for you!' doesn't come in the bloody list." She muttered, slamming close the door behind her as she dropped onto a stool next to the bar, gesturing for a drink to be served to her. She didn't care that this was just her first week out of the hospital, even the constant vigil of the prison-in-another-name, a.k.a her room was better than the constant annoyances put up by her mother.

"I don't even know his name!" She muttered to herself, as she tried to remember anyone like him, but like always, her memory drew a complete blank. It was funny actually. How people never seemed to appreciate their simple ability to recall. To remeber, to link, to be able to talk with a certain knowledge. She had lost that ability, she knew its value. "Wow. one drink and I am on my way to a PhD in Philosophy. Good going!" She muttered, rolling her eyes and ordering another shot.

She nodded to the only other person in the bar, probably because it was too early for drinking anyway. Slumping down on her seat, she ordered a vodka shot, before studying the menu carefully so she could decide her next drink

Mary watched the agitated woman from her seat farther down the bar. She couldn't make out what the woman was saying, but walked over, and sat at the stool beside her, firewhiskey in hand.
"Hey, want to rant at a stranger?" She smiled. It wasn't near time for acceptable drinking, and she logically knew that making a friend who also drowned their feelings in booze wasn't a good idea, but she was bored, lonely, and buzzed.

At the sound of the chair scraping announcing the entry of another person around her, Alex immediately looked up, smirking as she realized that though she was drunk, her reaction time wasn't halfway bad. Shooting a wry smile to the lady, she held up her own tumbler of whiskey and asked, "Its a boring rant, bereft of details and still lacking much of a climax. Up for it?"

Talking to strangers, considering the circumstances probably wasn't a good move. But then, good moves weren't usually fun and at this point, Alex needed to have some fun.

Mary grinned at the dark haired woman, liking her dry sense of humor.
"Go for it. Maybe I'll get drunk enough and remember some psychology." She took a swig of firewhiskey to prove her point. She didn't mind long rants, and this woman seemed to have quite a story to tell, judging by her muttering as she came in.

"Fair warning, I don't deal well with advice." Alex cut in, shrugging her shoulders half-apologetically. She didn't deal well with discussions about herself either, but alcohol loosens many's tongues. Even so, her answer was direct. "I am an auror. An ex-auror technically." Her tone made it clear that she didn't set much store by the official version of the events. "On a mission, my first I am told, I was hit by an Obliviate curse and found bleeding by my colleagues." Here, she paused to place an order for some food as well as the drinks refill. "And I can only hope that this was because I was in an actual fight and not......let's say mugged."

"Then I'll won't give advice." Mary shrugged. If this woman needed to just talk, Mary could just listen. "That's really terrible luck." To be hit with a memory curse on her first mission? Mary could understand her frustration. "They, I dunno the word, made you stop being an Auror because you lost your memory?" While she could vaguely see the reasoning, she wondered if maybe it wasn't because the woman was hit on her first mission and considered unfit to be an Auror. "I doubt someone'd hit you with a memory curse for a mugging." Even here in Knockturn Alley, you'd be fine if you kept your wits about you.

"They will reinstate me." Alex answered with an easy shrug, studying the contours of her glass as she spoke, her grip becoming progressively tighter as the words rolled out. "Provided I get a certificate from Mungo's, that is. Now, those blighted idiots are diagnosing me with some muggle psycho stuff and demand my attendance in weekly sessions. They refuse to give me a med certificate, siting my memory loss and mental stress as an issue." She finished with a curt nod, tipping her neck slightly to swallow the burning liquid.

"That too, wouldn't be that much of a problem, if my brilliant mum never existed."

"Mmm." Mary nodded and sipped her drink. The Healer she met from St. Mungo's had said he found muggle healing fascinating. Perhaps he had been in an influential position, or perhaps times were simply changing. There wasn't anything to be done about St. Mungo's not giving the woman a clean bill of health, and she had said she didn't want advice. "Who's your mum, if you don't mind me asking?"