There is no good or bad weather; just innapropriate clothing.

Liz shivered as she made her way into the bar, immediately ordering a hot chocolate before taking a seat directly next to the fireplace. It's not that it was cold out, but for someone in her wear (a blue skirt, purple shirt and white jacket), it was absolutely freezing. She crossed her legs and crouched closer to herself, preserving her body heat. She shivered again, though slowly losing the numbness that had taken over her body.

She knew that she should have probably stopped by Madam Malkin's and grabbed some more appropriate wear instead of the pub, but it was much farther away and she had needed shelter. She hadn't a clue how the weather had changed this quickly; when she had gone out that morning, it had been a beautiful sunny day. Now it was on the verge of the thirties, and she could definitely feel it. She was, however, rather pleased to find that she was not the only dressed in this way; all around, there with people in shorts, skirts, and t-shirts, some far less modest than her own.

The waiter handed her her cup and she gingerly placed a galleon in his hand. She waited for him to leave before gulping down a quarter of her glass and then almost spitting it out before forcing herself to swallow. "HOT!" she yelped, attracting a few stares and chuckles in her general area. She paid them no mind and instead fanned herself frantically, desperately looking around for some bread. "Hoooooot!"

When she finally noticed someone behind her with a piece of bread, she didn't even think about it before grabbing it and stuffing it in her mouth. After sighing in relief at the instant coolness in her mouth, she suddenly froze, realizing how rude she probablyh just seemed. She looked up at the boy apologetically. "Sorry," she frowned. "I'll buy you another if you want..."

Thomas was in the Leaky Cauldron in his usual comfortable but presentable Muggle Attire of navy blue Cargo pants and a grey shirt. He didn't bring a coat, but then, he had no idea he'd need one. The weather seemed to go from warm and sunny to rainy and cold within minutes. He had thankfully found refuge in the Leaky Cauldron from the rain, as well as many other people had it seemed. He had just got some hot chocolate (he knew it seemed odd, but he needed something to warm up) and a sandwich, he noticed one girl making a slight commotion almost right in front of him. He was about to move and sit elsewhere when suddenly his sandwich was snatched off him, and before he could say anything, the girl had already apologized and asked if she could buy him another. He shook his head in amazement, before grinning. "No thanks, I probably wasn't going to eat it anyway." He said, shrugging it off. "I'm Thomas by the way, who would you be?" He asked.

She sighed in relief at the boy's refusal to her offer, but asked again to be polite. Sometimes when people said 'no,' they really meant, 'ask again and I'll agree and if you don't, you're a very rude child and I'll tell you.' "Are you sure?" she asked with a frown, obviously worried. "It's not that much trouble. Besides, you'll need more bread if you've got hot chocolate, too..."

"I'm Liz," she agreed with what she hoped was a charming smile (she had just met a potential friend, after all) but probably just made her look stupid.

Not for the first time, she pondered asking someone about her school. It had become almost routine by then; meet someone new, introduce herself, ask about Hogwarts. She had become almost sick of it. For once, she decided to do something a bit different. "Have I seen you around before?" she frowned. "I feel like I've already met you..."

Pierre entered the Leaky Cauldron from Muggle London, clad in a wool black suit and black umbrella being held over his head and Phone in between his ear/cheek and shoulder as he argued with his Uncle. "I never authorized a donation of seventy percent-seventy percent, Uncle!- of the Kompany's profits to Make a Dream or whatever charity you chose." he argued, closing his umbrella and tucking it neatly under his arm and taking his phone in hand.

"Ivan, it's for a good cause. The Kompany has been making much money right now- good time to invest!" His uncle's choppy English hurt Pierre's ears.

Looking around for an empty table, he decided to risk sitting near two kids he thought he had seen around Hogwarts. "Uncle. I do not care about some Muggle charity- they can turn to the Muggles- don't you dare say that I run a Muggle company- for their money." he scowled angrily, signalling for a butterbeer at the bartender. "I am not going to get involved with some random Muggle company." he added before hanging up.

Thomas kept grinning and nodded at her. "I'm sure, don't worry about it." He said cheerfully. Still smiling, he sat down at a table. "Nice to meet you too Liz." He said, still smiling. He sipped slightly on the hot chocolate, enjoying the warmth that spread through his body from it. He then heard someone else sitting down next to them, on the phone about something to do with Muggle Companies, he said quietly to Liz. "What do you think he's talking about?"

She sighed and sat back in her chair happily. Thank God; she wasn't sure if she had the money to buy him another one. "Thanks," she beamed. "You don't know how grateful I am." After staring warily at her hot chocolate for a few moments, she took another cautious sip, finding that it had cooled considerably. She watched as a teenager about her age sat down, bickering on the phone about something.

Upon hearing Tom's question, she shrugged and replied "Why don't we ask him?" before calling curiously, "Excuse me? Do you happen to be a muggle who stumbled upon here? Not many wizards manage companies." Yes, she might seem rude, but that hardly mattered; she wanted an answer, and this was the easiest way to get it.

Pierre looked at the two other teenagers. "No...was that an insult?" he asked, pocketing his phone and untwisting the cap of his butterbeer. "And I'm the owner and CEO of Korsten Kompanies- one of the few Wizarding companies." he informed factually before sipping his drink.

Deciding that they didn't deserve so much of his attention, he grabbed the Prophet from an abandoned table, flipping to the business section, bored with the other news.

Liz's eyebrows rose at the boy's high profile, cold stare that seemed to consider her more like some irritating bug than a human. "Actually, it wasn't," she replied coolly. "My mum's a muggle, and there's nothing wrong with being one anyhow." She squinted at him, eyebrows rising an inch at his explanation. "Ah," she replied, disbelief etched into her voice. "And, er...what do these Korsten Companies do?" She couldn't help but feel that the name was a bit stupid and badly thought out; it didn't even have a ring to it.

She found her agitation growing as the boy picked up the Prophet. Oh, so now she wasn't good enough to talk to. Swell. She felt so appreciated. "If you're going to ignore us, it'd be nice if you could tell us first," she commented off-handedly, shooting a glare made of daggers at the back of his head. A year and a half ago, she would've let this boy walk all over her, but things had changed and dangit, she wasn't going to be stepped on!

"I never did say there was something wrong with being a half blood. My best friend is one." Pierre scowled.

Really? Was this girl retarded or something? "Korsten Kompanies," here Pierre emphasized the 'k', "Is one of the largest Muggle-Wizard companies in the world." he gritted out. "You would have to be struck blind, deaf and dumb to not know about it."

Pierre set down the paper, deciding that the girl didn't understand multitasking enough to let him get information on Wizarding stocks

"Wonderful," she agreed, eyebrows raised. "That's nice to know. But you seemed to be acting like it was a bad thing, so I'm awfully sorry if I assumed. Quite a few purebloods don't seem to like them."

A stormy expression filled her face at his next words. She scowled, clearly angry. "I can assure that I am none of those," she frowned with gritted teeth. "Otherwise, I obviously would not be in a bar and actually looking at you, and I am a Ravenclaw. I'm sorry if I'm more in tune to the muggle world than the wizard world."

She felt a strange surge of satisfaction as he put down the paper. At least something had gone right today. She pulled down her skirt, which had been hitching up her leg. "Thank you," she nodded curtly, taking a sip of her drink. She took a deep breath; Calm. She was calm. She wouldn't be mean for no reason. "I'm sorry if I offended you," she apologized, "but I've had a rather stressful and strange day, and I prefer to be addressed by people when they talk."

Thomas just stayed quiet, shrugging at Liz. "You could if you want." He said quietly. Then he just watched the two interact for a while, listening to what they said. "A CEO? How does an Eleven or Twelve year old head a company? It can't be that good a one." He said before thinking, after all, a company needs someone with years of experience, not just a kid who was barely starting school! "Struck, blind and deaf? I think someone has a puffed up sense of their own importance." He said, he felt pretty Slytherin right now, and even he could tell that was showing. All he knew was this guys attitude got on his nerves.

"Not quite a CEO, per say. More of the person who makes sure the CEO doesn't screw up the company." Pierre frowned. What was with non Hufflepuffs? it was like they had no sense of manners.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he slid the small device out, cursing under his breath in Bulgarian as he read the caller's name. Grabbing his umbrella and leaving some coins on the table for the drink, he hurried back out to the rainy Muggle London, wondering why he had ditched his Gringotts meeting for some uneducated conversation.

Oh well. At least he had an excuse to get away from them.

"Right, because an eleven year old would really be able to tell them what to do and know better than them." He said, rolling his eyes. Was this for real? He did not believe that a company of any sort would be able to run with a child that high up, a single bad move and the place would collapse, and, in honesty, a kid would make a lot of mistakes. He smirked at the phone call, the fact he'd hardly said anyone else made Thomas pretty sure the guy was at a loss for other things to say.

He shrugged, if he came back, then Thomas could see if there was something else he had to say.

She felt her eyebrows shoot upwards as the boy both ignored her question and gave Tom (as she had already nicknamed him in her mind) only a half-adequate response. She rolled her eyes. "The CEO tells everyone else what to do," she pointed out. "If a 12-year-old kid is running the place, it won't be long until it completely collapses."

She felt her blood boil as Mr.Korsten walked out on them. Oh, yes. That wasn't rude at all. Eying the table he had been at, however, she felt the anger draining out of her and a certain morbid curiosity taking it's place. "He left his phone," she muttered before hesitantly taking it and flipping it open before immediately flipping back closed and sending Tom a glance. "Should we check?" she asked him, amused.

Thomas agreed with Liz. If a CEO was a kid, then the company wouldn't be around for long. He wondered what this guy would be like in a few years... Hopefully much more honest after seeing how stupid he was in this year, especially if all his encounters went like this, and Thomas wouldn't be all that surprised if they did.

He kept shaking his head at the fact he'd just walked out. It certainly seemed like he'd backed away out of fear or worry that he'd have to admit something. He smirked when he heard the guy had left his phone. "We shouldn't.... But it's definitely the best idea, maybe he isn't even a CEO and just fakes it to make himself look cooler." He said, curiosity quickly getting the better of him.

"Alright!" she cheered, immediately flipping open the electronic device. Not even password protected, she snorted to herself. She immediately recognized the type of phone (Verizon 4G Mobile) and knew exactly how to look through everything. She barely glanced at the background picture (a boy with light brown hair and gray eyes, grinning at the camera) before going on to the ringtones--it was surprising what you could learn about someone by the music they listened to.

"Hmm..." She offered the screen to Tom, showing him the choices in music. "What do you think? A music choice says a lot about a person," she added, "but all of the titles on here are numbers...I can't decide which to choose."