Anya watched with interest as Donovan began drinking his firewhiskey. She had to admit, she was thoroughly impressed. Actually, she wasn’t even sure that he would be able to finish the first drink at all. “Vell, Bailey, I didn’t know you had zat een you.” She gave him a quick wink and then called for the second round of drinks. While waiting, Anya quickly appreciated what being an Auror did for Donovan. He was certainly a fit bloke, and with a bit of confidence he would be someone to look out for. Anya imagined that he must have been quite the heart breaker at one point in his life, but with another glance she figured he might have gotten his heart broken one too many times as well. Especially with the way that he would look at her, but then seem to glance quickly away. She wasn’t quite sure if she should feel flattered, or more on edge with his expressions. Usually she was able to read people fairly easily, but he had always proven to be difficult.
At last the drinks arrived, and Anya quickly gulped hers down again. She could feel no real affect on her body with two full glasses of firewhiskey in her stomach. There was a slight tingling sensation in her throat, but it was nothing compared to what a first timer might feel. Firewhiskey had long ago lost its burn, and the only thing it really offered was comfort. It was the closest Anya was able to find to her strong Russian drinks. It felt like home to her, especially after she had around 6 glasses. “So, Bailey, vhy don’t ve make zis more interesting. You drink a glass, and zen you are able to ask zee ozer person a question. I figure some motivation eez needed if you vant to keep up.” In reality, Anya was banking on the fact that Donovan didn’t seem to be that much of a heavy weight, and she was fairly curious about his life before being an Auror. She just prayed to Merlin that he wouldn’t down too many glasses. She saw him in interrogations, and she knew that he was capable of some fairly loaded questions that could catch anyone, even her, off guard.
Donovan was certain that it was more Anya than the Firewhiskey that had him feeling so strange and almost lightheaded as he sat at the bar and looked in equal parts towards his drink and then back at Anya. He had always been a rather private man around those that he didn’t know very well, and that often meant that he took a greater pleasure in asking the questions that would allow him to get to know someone on a deeper level than in did in answer the ones that would provide the same opportunity for another. Still, Donovan found it nearly impossible to refuse Anya anything, and so it was with a small nod of his head that he agreed to participate in her game, no matter how dangerous it could be for him. He knew very well that she could out drink him with her hands tied behind her back and still walk out of the bar with as much poise as she had possessed when walking in, there was no doubt in his mind that she would be hounding him with questions, probably some that he didn’t want to reveal even when in his right mind, let alone remember while intoxicated. But Donovan was curious as well, curious to know the story of the girl he had been enamored of since his first day of training with the complete knowledge that she was bad for him and that nothing good could ever come of falling for a girl like Anya; a girl who could crush his heart like all the others before.
With a determined smile, Donovan took his second glass in hand as downed a half of it before taking a breath. He was no where near as practiced in the art of drinking as his colleagues were, but he had certainly been drunk his fair share of times after his third heartbreak. The taste and burn was familiar, but this time it felt more exciting than depressing because at the bottom of the glass was not the memory of the love of his life falling out of love with him, but the prospect of getting to know the Russian beauty that sat before him. Another few second had him slamming the empty glass down on the bar victoriously, taking a few breaths to steady his head before he could think of his first question. “If anything is too personal you can always pass,” he promised her, not wanting to upset her in any way or push his boundaries. He wondered what one asked a woman who had seem much, much more of the world and experiences more life than he could even imagine. “I suppose my first question will be have you ever been in love, really in love.” Donovan thought for a moment, his eyes dancing over her face as his hand itched to reach out and touch the skin that looked so soft. “And I want a story if you have. That is, if you want to tell it.”