Raining. It had to be raining. It wasn't bad enough that she had to trek all the way to Salem, no. Rain was an absolute must. Because going to New York to pick up her gown from a designer who, for some reason, refused to ship his couture and find out that his studio was closed after being lost in the city for countless hours while trying to figure out what the hell she had done to Albus wasn't torture enough.

She didn't know whose neck she was going to wring first, the designer or Albus. If her boyfriend had said more than five words to her in twice as many days maybe she wouldn't be so neurotic about the ball coming up. Maybe if the designer told her that his studio was on the second floor of the building none of this would be happening. Also worthy of note if Albus ever just told her what she did wrong she wouldn't be constantly in this state. And MAYBE if the designer had told her his studio was on the SECOND FLOOR WHICH HAD NO SIGN she wouldn't be soaked to the bone, trying to find the bloody fireplace that had started this entire debacle.

This was all just beyond ridiculous, she thought to herself as she walked through Salem, lost again. Why was it she was lost, again? Was that the theme of the day, for the world to make her realize how absolutely lost she was right now? Okay, universe, message conveyed. You can stop the onslaught of torture now. But the rain kept falling and her umbrella, broken from the wind, was doing absolutely nothing to help. It only fueled the hate fire that had been brewing inside of her. Shoes ruined, soaking wet, no dress, boyfriend still not speaking to her, NEWT's on the horizon, and her future to be concerned about. If the hate fire wasn't being stoked enough it surely was now.

Alright, Alya was done. So very done with this day, with this situation, with the clouds for making it rain. She turned with a huff and entered the closest store, not caring what it was. It could be a dollar store, a strip club, or just a room full of boggarts; whatever it was could not be worse than anything she was dealing with outside.

Standing in the doorway, she began peeling off her dripping jacket as she looked around the shop. Well this was… cozy. A bit tacky and obvious for her taste but it was better than being stuck in the rain. Without anywhere to sit. Of course. Why that surprised her at this point in her day she would never know.

Alya walked over to a table near the fireplace and sat down without asking. "Look, I'll leave you to your tea and… your pensive fireplace thoughts after I've warmed up." Even if he didn't like, he could get over it. She was cold, she was tired, and she was going to sit near the fireplace whether he liked it or not.

Alya had to have done something truly terrible in a past life to deserve a day like this. Kick a baby, throw a kitten off of a bridge, wear polyester, something equally as vile to justify what the universe had bestowed upon her. Whatever it was, it had to be severely messed up or else this day could have worked out the way she had imagined: sunny spring day with a fabulous gown and no ruined shoes. But here she was, dripping wet and in a bakery in Salem.

What was she to do now? There really wasn't much of a plan after drying off. Was she going to just repeat this endeavor again tomorrow? Trek all the way home to have to come back again, preferably this time without the rain and the being lost. Was it even worth it? Alya doubted Albus would even notice her if she showed up completely naked with birds in her hair. A dress wasn't going to fix things between them, as much as she liked to pretended that shopping made everything better. And it had gotten out of control, with even Shea commenting on the ridiculous volume of bags and dresses and hats she had bought since her argument with Albus. Because shopping was much easier than actually addressing the fact that he refused to talk to her and the end of her school career was just around the corner.

Add the smirk from pensive table guy and Alya was just about ready to go on a spree, various bakery-themed deaths buzzed around her head as she arched an eyebrow at him. "I'm not sure, does the coffee taste as terrible as the baked goods look? If so, I'd rather just inject the preservatives and refined sugar into my eyeballs." All of it just looked like edible cavities, how could anyone willingly ingest this crap? But then again, can't expect much out of Americans, considering the taste level of the average patriot. She mirrored his smirk before turning back to the fire, her fingers running through her hair, detangling the knots before quickly braiding it. "Though I can't imagine there is any way to ruin Earl Grey, even on this continent."

This guy was a glutton for punishment. He had to be because there was absolutely no other reason for him to continue speaking to her. Alya was more accustomed to her fellow Gryffindors: those that knew her stayed out of her way when she was in a bad mood and those that didn't learned quickly. It was much more effective than having to resort to physical violence later on but that was never completely ruled out. There were a few girls that practically begged for bleach in their shampoo but she just stuck with making them cry. It was a gift she possessed and didn't mind sharing her gift with those around her. The only person who ever really challenged her wasn't speaking to her anymore so she was fine with ignoring everyone else just leaving her be. It was a much safer outcome for most of them anyway, if they valued their hair.

But Alya had to give him points for audacity. There was no way she looked like someone that was in the mood for a conversation: she was still practically dripping wet, her hair was flat, and her face was not one to advertise a kindness to strangers. But here he was, smirking away. It could be that he was just stupid but she doubted that. A truly stupid person would have shut up already and he was still talking, for whatever reason. Well, fine then. Who was she to turn down a cup of tea? Though she'd have to keep her eye on him because she was not in the mood to be drugged. At this point it'd probably be the tip of the iceberg.

She parted her hair and began to braid the wet locks as he ordered her Earl Grey. Seriously, was he some sort of masochist? Rather handsome masochist, she thought to herself. The girl was never one for American boys but there was nothing wrong with enjoying the sight set before her. Sure, most of them were uncouth and completely unsalvageable in society but good cheekbones could always be appreciated.

Alya gave him a slight smile before taking a sip of the tea and shrugging a little. "Well, it's not terrible." She couldn't help but mirror the amused expression of the man sitting before her, for some unknown reason. She took another drink of her tea, the warm liquid helping with the chill that had settled into her bones. "Thank you, that's infinitely better. I'm Alya Selwyn."

Alya relaxed a little against the back of her chair, enjoying the warming effect the tea had. Now that she was no longer clenching her jaw so tightly the slight headache that had plagued her since she arrived in this hemisphere. How anyone could possibly prefer this part of the world she would never know. The only interesting part was New York City and even then it was a hot, miserable knock-off of London with tourists in terrible clothing. What did New York have to offer that Europe didn't do ten times better? The theatres were doing work written by English writers and the designers were copying French haute couture. Center of the universe? She would say nice try but that would be giving too much.

"A pleasure, I'm sure." Whatever the reason he was being sociable Alya was past complaining. Whatever infectious disease he could possibly have she would have already caught and if he was a creeper there was really no way to get away at this point, now that he knew her name. Honestly, tea with a potentially infected stalker was the least of her worries at this point. It was a much better option than trying to brave the rain and find her way back to school to... what? Study? I'll take infectious handsome American distractions for one thousand, please! Should she honestly care right now? Who was she to judge, she probably looked more similar to a drowned rat than anything else and he bought her tea.

Dark cloud? The English girl shrugged nonchalantly. "When it rains it pours, I've come to learn recently." Rather accurate observation, as much as it pained her. Was it obvious on her face? She was clearly losing her touch, the mask a pureblood girl used in society that her parents had drilled into her brain over the years. "With NEWT's and graduation on the horizon I have been letting the little things get to me." Alya reached for a packet of sugar at the center of the table and added to her tea. "What about you? What brings you to a coffee shop when the weather is so fine?"