In between May and June, there was a one month period where things actually began to feel like normal before they slipped back into cold towards the end of July. The clouds parted, streets dried, and it felt like a real summer and not the slightly warmer weather that sent Brits scurrying to the shade. Of all the things in England, the weather was the one thing Trivia had never quite gotten adjusted too. She'd have already gone through her entire summer wardrobe in Italy, but she was barely a few sets of shorts in now. There was no use complaining about that now though, not when she should be enjoying this for the short time that she should.
After a little while walking through Diagon Alley, her hair was already up, and she was wishing she'd gone for a tank-top instead of t-shirt. If there was thing she was skilled in though, it was beating the heat. She ducked into the ice cream shop and two minutes later was lounging outside at one of the tables, legs stretched out in the sun and ice cream cone quickly starting to drip onto her hand. No one was going to judge her if she just licked it off, right?
It was a treat, a once in a blue moon sort as Murphy didn't allow for such frivolities as ice cream at team dinners. But it was not quite the off season, and he was on his own in a brief interlude from work. He had wound his way through Diagon Alley and paused before Fortescue's. The last time he was at Fortescue's was before he signed on to the team over a year prior. Feeling rather like a covert operative, he joined the cue and then wandered to the tables outside, cone of rocky road clutched in his hand. It was obscene, a confection of glistening vanilla and gooey chocolate chunks already beginning to sweat under the sun. It was such a pure experience of delight. Zane swiveled around in the vague hope for a friendly countenance. It was only ice cream, but Zane could spiel on its richness: it wasn't just ice cream, it was independence, it was buying power, it was possibility. There was a smattering of people among the tables, a couple and a family, and a woman with ice cream dripping down her hand who seemed to wear summer like a second skin. Zane slipped into the chair across from her. "You know, polite society supposes napkins are the way to go, but this is ice cream at its finest." He raised his cone of sweet summer rush in greeting, and cleaned his knuckles of a dribble of melted vanilla. His eyes darted from her to the cone in her hand, trying to identify what flavor she had chosen.
Maybe licking ice cream off of herself hadn't been the best idea. There were a lot of people around to judge her for such manners, but there was only so much you could do about it after all. Seriously, what was she supposed to do? Get a napkin? That was simply wasteful. At least one person didn't seem to mind her lack of lady-likeness. In fact, he didn't seem bothered by it at all. At least the British managed to get a few things right, and she was glad ice cream decorum was one of them. "I've never been much for polite society," she commented. "Too uptight for my taste, and life is far too short to worry about every little thing." She bit into the top of it and immediately regretted the decision as pain shot through the roof of her mouth. "Oh, brain freeze. I guess there is room for a small amount of restraint." She moved her legs back to her side of the table to give him some actual room, but she still managed to lounge back as much as possible in her own chair, tucking one leg under her as she picked at a piece of strawberry in her ice cream. "I'm Trivia, by the way. I'd offer you my hand but...well." She lifted one hand and wiggled her sticky fingers. "I'm not sure just licking it off is going to clean up this mess before long. Not that I'm going to waste any bit of it that I can manage to save."
Zane leaned back and appraised her, his ice cream cone momentarily forgotten. The cold slide of a rivulet against thumb hastened him and he ducked down to swipe his hand clean. "Trivia. I won't ask. I'd hazard we're on the same side against polite society then. Zane." He raised a hand and waggled his fingers in a return wave. He couldn't fathom what she did for trade from a once-over. Her clothes didn't set her apart even though her appearance had a certain striking appeal. "So what place did you escape from to treat yourself to ice cream? Or is this actually your lunch break and you're that much more of a rebel, vegetables be damned?"