January 5, 1926, New York, Bewitched Buffalo inn

„You don’t have many guests.”

The flames in the fireplace created a warm, orange color which filled the half-lighted, tight place. Rowan Corbitt looked around. Their shadows were dancing on the wall, making the room more mysterious, just like the man who were sitting opposite them.

He was a mystery indeed. The first time they met (only a few days ago) he offered shelter for her and her brother. And a cup of tea; she had never tasted anything like it. Then he lighted up the fire with wandless magic (something she saw only from the man sitting next to her before) and left before they could pay for the accomodation. Wohali. she repeated his name in her head again and again. He was native american, she could say that not becouse of his appearence but the Bewitched Buffalo also had the significative name and the look.

Wohali was playing with a feather between his fingers.

„I have my usual guests and that’s enough. People who have to be at this place always come. Like the way you and your brother came. Or like your friend here.”

Rowan and Graves looked at each other.

„We’re no friends.”

„Yes.” Wohali made a small smile, hardly noticeable but quite delighted. „You two are not.”

Rowan felt a little embarrassed.

„So where do you know each other from?” she tasted her tea; it was warm and calming, filling her soul with peace. She didn’t know what kind of magic this was, maybe it belonged to the many secrets of the Bewitched Buffalo like the fire which was burning differently than other fires or Wohali himself. Or it was the tea which was too good. And suddenly she realized that the place somehow felt like home. She was looking at the two man, from one to the other. „I’ve always wondered. Graves is way too formal, bossy and workaholic, but you…” she was searching for the word, trying to catch the trait which suited most to the Cherokee’s unique aura. „You’re free.”

Wohali looked satisfied with the description.

„We were in the same house at Ilvermorny although I’m a year older.” he said.

„Really?” Rowan asked surprised, looking at Graves. She tried to imagine the man as a child at the american wizard school. „I bet you were a talent, best in everything and favourite of all professors.”

Graves did not answer; talking about the past seemed to make him feel unconfortable.

„Time’s out.” he raised from his seat a little. „I have to go back to MACUSA.”

„A goodbye-drink then.” nodded Wohali and raised his hand. A small woodden salver with cups on it appeared from nowhere and started floating in the air. Graves checked it with a cautious look.

„Gigglewater.” his face was gloomier than it was before. „I don’t drink.”

„And that would be rude to do after my hospitality, you know that.” Wohali smiled cunningly at the other man and Rowan could swear that he made a quick wink at her direction. She could hardly hold her sudden joy back too. Percival Graves drinking Gigglewater… this was something she thought was impossible and would have given anything to see happening. „Come on, you deserve some drink after all the hard work you made, Director. Let’s drain the cup.”

„I still have work to do at MACUSA. No, thank y…”

„The Gigglewater is non-negotiable.” Rowan chuckled as she handled a cup to Graves, joining the persuasion, then took another cup for herself. „Do you know who said this? Your precious President herself. You have no choice Graves. I also drink. See?”

She drank the shot and a short laugh bursted out of her. Wohali smiled widely after he did the same. Graves looked at them and sighed.

„I find this mindless and not really appropriate.”

„I was sure you do.” said Rowan, staring at him interested.

„Why are you looking at me like this?” Graves was a bit confused. Rowan shrugged and leaned closer to him.

„I want to see a smile on your face… a real smile, not one of those polite ones you make rarely during worktime when the situation requires it. I want to see you smile just once even if it’s caused by a drink.”

The man raised an eyebrow and Rowan saw many unspoken questions in his dark eyes. Yet he didn’t say anything, just made a long, tired sigh.

„Fine.” And he drank.

His laugh was quiet and discrete but he laughed. Rowan was looking at him with a smile on her face, not realising that this smile was different, coming from happiness, something that hasn't happened with her for a long time.

„I like it… it suits you. You look so different when you laugh.” she said, crossing her arms, still smiling. There was a long silence. Graves did not answer and he seemed a little embarrassed but Rowan could see some other expression on his face, something she was not able to identify but made her feel somehow warm.

Then Wohali made a quiet cough.

„One more shot?” he asked with a smirk. Graves shook his head.

„No way.” his tone was way too serious. Rowan couldn’t help but chuckled.

„I’d love to see it again.”

„Oh, don’t worry, dear crow-girl.” the Cherokee’s gaze was mysterious and wise. Both Rowan and Graves stared at him. „I’m sure you will.”