Idle Pastimes | OPEN

Djinn appeared - literally - at the end of the street. With a spare thought, his bright red eyes became brown so that he appeared just another middle-aged mortal. Stalking forward, the demon entered the wizard pub.

He was bored, which was really a dangerous thing for a demon of his stature to be. But Djinn had plans, and some of said plans would include mortals. So, bored, but ever plotting, he elected to do a bit of... research. Who knew? Maybe he'd even be able to amuse himself.

Djinn tapped the bar. "Firewhiskey," he told the bartender. "Leave the bottle." Grabbing both glass and bottle once they were left on the counter, he went to a corner to sit and watch, his posture too perfectly casual to seem quite right. He really needed to work on his mortal affectations.

(OOC- It says open and I'm bored )

Archer strolled into the bar, unable to hide her smug smile. She had just brought her business competitor down, and raked in 4 weaponry deals within a matter of 2 hours. She was rather impressed and thought it to be something to privately celebrate...with herself. Business was her thing, she went solo. That wasn't going to change.

Ordering a fire whiskey, she quickly swept the room, automatically searching for potential danger - especially since the business that she had destroyed wasn't built from the most friendly people.

There. Corner. Who the hell was that? He looked strangely out of place, even though his body language was spot on casual. It was too...rehearsed, almost. Nodding at the bartender, Archer took her drink and downed it quickly, still watching him intently. Anyone who rehearsed their body language to perfection was trouble. Which was usually something she was caught up in. Smirking visibly at the thought, she nodded once at the man. Who knows? He could be a potential client.

Noting the witch's regard, Djinn inclined his head in acknowledgement, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Some might have found the gesture charming. Throwing back the rest of his glass, he poured another. Who knew? Perhaps something of interest would happen.

This was strange.

And interesting. Which was always good.

But strange. Very strange. Everything about the way he carried himself, it was...off, somehow.

Frowning inwardly, Archer's trained analytical brain desperately tried to decipher his background. It was her frustration that finally drove her to walk formally over to him in her black heels, cough lightly and ask;

"Who are you?" In a blunt tone, despite her efforts of sounding...what did they call it? "Polite"?

She extended an arm, and offered a handshake.

"Bree Archer." she introduced herself.

Djinn smirked in amusement, his currently brown eyes appraising the mortal in front of him. Such a blunt woman.

He lifted his chin, amusement still notable in his features. Taking her hand, he shook it, his own warm, almost hot, to the touch.

"I'm called Djinn," the demon stated. The name would tell her very little, really. It was not his true name, but more a title. No demon would be foolish enough to give anyone their name, least of all a mortal.

"Djinn." she nodded, trying out the name on her tongue. It sounded familiar, somehow. It rang a bell, that was for sure. It felt like something she had read about. She frowned. She really needed to stop working for a while and make more time for her books.

"Are you named after someone?" she asked, her head tilting at a slight angle in fascination.

She threw a glance at the chair opposite him.

"May I?" she asked, eyebrow arched.

(NOTE: It is unlikely she would find anything directly relating to him with that name. If anything it'd be something reeaally obscure. More likely, she'd find something about djinn - from which the concept of the genie originated)


"Not really," Djinn answered vaguely, taking a contemplative drink from his refilled glass. Alcohol had no effect on him, of course. He was drinking simply because it would seem odder if he didn't.

"Lovely woman like yourself," the demon drawled charmingly, "you most certainly may." He could tell that she found him puzzling, which amused him even further. This might actually turn out to be an interesting conversation, after all. Who'd have thought?

(OOC- Hehe, I know My Arabian friend just saw the name and was like- why are ya talking to a genie? You know they're not real, right? )

Archer smiled smugly.

"I suppose I am rather lovely." she murmured in agreement and pulled out the chair opposite him. Raking a hand through her wild black hair she asked;

"So what do you do, Djinn?" she asked, downing her firewhiskey and setting the empty glass on the table.

Djinn eyed her appraisingly, his gaze still piercing despite the human coloring of his eyes.

"Oh, a little of this and little of that," he replied. "Let's just say, I plan on taking over the family business. I'm a real go-getter.

"And you? I assume such a capable young witch as yourself has a rather satisfying career."

Bree stayed unnaturally still under his gaze, stupidly conscious of every move she made. She refused to be intimidated by him- he was only one man, after all.

"Ambitious." she nodded with a slight smirk. "I like it." she said cheekily.

"More than satisfying. I run a weaponry business." she said, and pulled out a muggle looking gun from somewhere behind her back and set it on the table. "I combine muggle technology and magic. Put together the best of theirs and the best of ours, and it creates some powerful stuff." she said, looking down at the wizard gun fondly.

"She's served me well." she murmured, gazing at the the weapon as if it were her child.

"It's the only way to be," Djinn declared.

The demon took up the weapon, inspecting it with the ease of one well-acquainted with guns and weaponry. "Very nice," he murmured approvingly. "Quite possibly the best such work I have seen. And you've developed it yourself, you say? My, my - quite a talented creature, indeed."

"Agreed." Bree smirked.

She tilted her head at an angle and watched him carefully as he handled the gun.

"Thank you." she murmured still watching the gun.

"I don't suppose I'm the only talented one here." she arched an eyebrow.

"You've worked with weaponry a lot, I take it?"

Djinn placed the weapon back on the table. "I don't suppose you are," he agreed mildly.

The demon shrugged one shoulder. "Here and there," he replied. "You can say it's a hobby of mine.

"So, tell me, Bree - you the best in your field? Or is there someone who's better?"

Bree lifted the gun tenderly from the table and after one long, proud look, slid it behind her back.

"A hobby." she murmured, mostly to herself.

"I don't suppose you would ever become a potential client?" she asked innocently.

Her jaw clenched slightly. "Call me Archer." she corrected. "Bree sounds too ...childlike."

She laughed shortly.
"Someone who's better?!" she exclaimed, shaking her head, laughing to herself.

"I positively love your sense of humour, Djinn." she smirked.

"Best there ever was, best there ever is, best there ever will be. Although, I did just bring down one of my competitors. I only kept them alive this long because I was getting bored- that's the annoying thing about being a genius. Everything's so easy to figure out." she mumbled the last sentence into her empty glass and signalled for another firewhiskey from the bartender.

"A potential client?" Djinn chuckled. "As excellent as your craftsmanship happens to be, I have little personal need for your weaponry."

His face was expressionless, though, something not quite identifiable entered his tone. "I wish to call you Bree," he stated.

Djinn folded his hands together, resting his chin atop his knuckles as she spoke, what might have been a smirk or a smile pulling faintly at his lips. As mortal as he appeared, he still made the pose look dangerous. Waiting for the bartender to come refill her glass, his own bottle of firewhiskey still half-full atop the table, he then inclined his head a bit.

"Ah. A genius," he said softly. "So, the best - but is that just locally? Here in the U.K.? Or is that globally?"

"And I would wish to call you by your real name, but I doubt the one you have given me is it." she frowned. "Can't you just wait until I've figured out whether I like you or not and then call me by my first name?" she asked, one eyebrow raised.

Bree shook her head.

"I'm fairly new to the business." she said, sipping her firewhiskey thoughtfully.

"I know I'm the best in Europe, Asia and Africa- I plan to "conquer" the US sometime this month" she added nonchalantly.

" I will have global authority." she said, eyes flaring with ambition and determination.

"All in due time." she murmured and a small smile tugged at her lips.

"You wouldn't be able to pronounce my name. Djinn is close enough. Even my... father calls me Djinn." He smirked at her.

The demon nodded, an affectation of thoughtfulness, then leaned back in his chair. Pouring some of his firewhiskey into his glass, he drank it down as casually as a person might drink water.

"Determination," he said. "I can appreciate that. There is, of course, a way to ensure that you will, in fact, be the best in the world, but... well, never mind." Knocking back the rest of the glass, he pushed the bottle closer to her. "For you."

He stood as though he were about to leave.

"Woah, hold your horses." she said, one hand raised as she stood quickly in front of him.

"You tell me that there's a way to ensure that I will be the best in the world, then leave me with a half empty bottle of firewhiskey?" she asked incredulously.

"Seriously?" she arched an eyebrow at him.

"Spill." she grinned slyly.

Djinn's eyes flashed their natural color before he turned back to face the woman, the faint curve of his lips almost predatory. He leaned closer to her, speaking loud enough that only she could hear.

"Well," he drawled, tone soft, dangerous. "It wouldn't be without a price. But I could ensure that in the worldwide field of weaponry, you, Archer, would have no equal." The demon straightened, gaze focused intently on her.

"It all depends on you, really," Djinn told her. "How much are you willing to give for your art?"

"Anything." she answered automatically, glassy green eyes glowing with curiosity.


Shaun... A small voice reminded her.


But I'm not in love with him.
Yet.

Focus, Archer. This is business. she reminded herself sternly. This was the way that Mr Brown had raised her. Business first, emotions later. That was what made him so successful- but it was also what made him alone.

Wrapping his hands around both of her upper arms, Djiin maneuvered them so that she alone could see his face. The brown boiled away from his eyes, leaving them the glowing red they were by right. It was likely she knew precisely what she was dealing with, now, but it was already too late. If she backed out, now, she died, along with everyone else in the pub.

The demon leaned forward to whisper in her ear, tone almost seductive. "Ten years," he promised, "for years, you will be the best. No matter weapon you choose to make, no mortal will be able to surpass it. In exchange, you answer to me. You are mine, and you will do my bidding. Worry not - I won't ask more than you are capable of.

"You can be the undisputed best, Archer, and all the riches and acclaim that goes with it. You have only to seal the deal."

Archer could honestly say that she was genuinely surprised.

"Ooooh." she murmured in realisation as his eyes turned red. "Well that just clears everything up, doesn't it?" she muttered under her breath.

10 years of greatness.

He's a demon. He wants to create hell.

But it's good business.


The woman stepped out of the demon's hold and hesitated for less than a second. "You've got yourself a deal, Djinn." she smirked and her hand went out for him to shake.

"Though I don't suppose I really had a choice, now did I?" she murmured innocently.

"Clever woman," Djinn smirked, tone mildly patronizing. He took her by one arm and pulled her back to him, his face inches from hers. "A handshake's not going to do it, though. You're going to have to kiss me." He stared intently at her, his hand locked around her arm.

"Yes, yes I am." she nodded.

"What on Earth is wrong with a handshake?" she muttered incredulously.

Archer sighed.
"Oh for shit's sake, this better not count as cheating." she mumbled and pressed her lips lightly against his, wandering why he had locked her arm so tightly.

"Just the way we do things," Djinn told her.

His lips were hot to the touch and as she kissed him, the demon kissed back possessively. There was nothing romantic about it - for Djinn, he was simply claiming what was his. He brought up his free hand and placed it behind her head to prevent her from pulling back.

And then, he branded her, hellfire flaring unseen from his right hand where he gripped her arm, burning a mark into her flesh - into the very bone of her arm. An ancient symbol for fire, in a language long forgotten by mortal kind.

Djinn finally released her, a truly chilling smile upon his features. "I'll be in touch, Bree," he promised. He vanished in a brief cloud of sulfurous black smoke.

And no one seemed to notice.