Atlas strolled down the alleyway at what he hoped looked like an easy going leisurely pace. He couldn't count the number of violations he was racking up on any available digits or appendages but his rebellion seemed hardly noteworthy considering the other issues going on at the moment. Sometimes a witch or wizard would give him a second glance but he had a strong feeling they simply knew him from chasing him away from their rubbish heaps and were shocked to see him with another human being, let alone a female.

He paid those looks little mind, scanning the crowd for any possible lurking Ministry officials. Occasionally he would glance back to make sure that Margot was still there, she was, happy dazed expression looking around. This was as close to excited he had ever seen her...and he hadn't seen her that many times actually...but the expression was subdued and drew little attention. No one who wasn't really looking hard would have any idea there was anything out of the ordinary with her.

Rounding the final bend he perked as the familiar store front of his home came into view. He hadn't bothered to lock the door when he left, anyone fool enough to try and rob the place would get several nasty to bewildering surprises. Even if someone did get in, they'd have no idea what to look for. Turning the knob he sidestepped and gestured for her to enter, taking one last look around the street before following her in and closing the door.

"That went well." He said to no one in particular before he moved past her and into the depths of the SHOP. Reaching his desk Atlas shuffled several papers before finding the card. He presented it to Margot, a rather pleased looking smile ghosting over his face, "This is for you. Just in case anyone from the Ministry pops in wondering who you are." He pointed to the runes dancing across the paper. "Its a squib registry card."

Margot's typically vapid smile was, today, less vapid than usual. Though the outward difference was not great, Margot's placid mind was processing information faster than it ever had before as Atlas led her down by far the quaintest street she'd yet seen in London. It was also among the busiest, of course; it was packed with people, animals, and objects of varying sizes, all of whom were very loud and very occupied. None of them noticed the short little brunette trailing along behind the towering Atlas. This didn't bother Margot; she was used to not being noticed, and occasionally preferred it.

They stopped at a shop with a sign hanging over it which accurately described it: SHOP. Atlas opened the door for her and Margot stepped through, looking around with interest. There were some recognizable things in the shop, objects she knew about--like the blood-stained rug, or what appeared to be a moose head. Other things seemed to be pulled from fiction, like the large cauldron out of which flowed a number of taxidermy animals. Margot stood there at the entrance where Atlas had left her, looking around. She heard whisperings, but couldn't tell where they were coming from. Did Atlas have more than one skeleton? Maybe the rest couldn't speak as clearly as Rudolph.

"This is for you. Just in case anyone from the Ministry pops in wondering who you are. It's a squib registry card."

"Very good," Margot said, smiling slightly. "What is a squib? And why would the clergy visit a shop like this?" None of the priests Margot knew would come anywhere near Atlas's shop, unless they thought to exorcise it.

(Icky, but it's up before work!)

ooc not icky at all I have to apologize for not getting to it sooner, did you get that part in assassins? Or is that some other time and I'm confused?

There was a moment of silence as Margot's question sank in and then Atlas laughed. Not in a mocking way just a short little sound from deep in his chest. With one hand he reached behind the woman and flipped a small, finger painted sign reading 'closed' and then beckoned for her to come further into the Shop. He walked toward the right of the store and then indicated she should take a seat in one of the large overstuffed chairs below the Moose head.

“A customer? Tell me what religion are you? Would you be interested in join our league of Candarian Demons?” It piped up in a strange imitation of Bullwinkle. Atlas looked up at menacingly, “Shes not interested.” He glanced down at Margot as he took a seat, “I'd advise not listening to a word he says, and don't sign anything...he can be very convincing.”She was still holding the card between two pale fingers and he tapped it gently. “Squib are a sort of wizarding paradox. Children of magical parents who, for all intents and purposes should have magical potential but for unknown reasons exhibit no abilities whatsoever. They're allowed to remain in our world but they're regulated, second class citizens.” It was strange having to explain all this, somewhere closer to the front of his mind than he would like to acknowledge Atlas was tallying how many statues he was breaking, adding the fines, the possible ramifications. He blinked, pushing them further back.

“That card says your a squib,” He never thought he would be having this conversation, maybe he should have paid more attention in muggle studies. “Your technically what we call a 'muggle', non magical person. Technically I shouldn't even be speaking to you, and you certainly shouldn't be here. There are strict regulations against alerting anyone to our existence. Statue from the 16thcenturey, back when you lot were using wizards and witches to stock bonfires.” He paused realizing this might be rather a lot to swallow in one sitting, but when he had told her he was a wizard she hadn't immediately run to any kind of mental authorities to have him carted off, that had to be a move in the right direction. “We're permitted to reveal ourselves in extreme cases, like marriage...” He trailed off as the word made a muscle between his shoulder blades twitch.

“I didn't mean clergymen.” Again a wry smile. “The Ministry of Magic is the title of our governing body. The one's we'd have to worry about are Aurors, wizarding coppers. But it is highly unlikely one would stop by here. I have a reputation for not thinking all that highly of them, and I don't do anything to warrant their attention,” course if I make a habit of having a muggle around the shop that could change..... “But the card is a precaution.”

“All that aside, you do have some magical ability, or else you wouldn't have been able to understand Rudolph. My grandfather always thought you pyscis, is that what you would call yourself? Anyway, he always thought you should be recognized, I'm just being a progressive.” He watched her evenly. “Afraid you'll have to be something of a secret though, there are a number of legal ramifications if its proven that I broke the Statute of Secrecy.” Atlas clapped both hands together then asked gently. “I can imagine its a bit overwhelming, but any questions?”

Margot looked up at the moose head as she sat down, vaguely wondering if it was safe; but since Atlas had directed her there, she figured it was probably safe enough. After he'd gone through all the trouble of bringing her here, sneaking her into the wizarding world, she didn't think it would make much sense for him to let her get hurt. Besides, he seems to be in control, Margot thought as Atlas admonished the moose firmly. She nodded along with his warning. Margot as a rule never took anything that was said at face value, because when dealing with ghosts the simplest agreement could result in eternal damnation, and however illogical Margot applied this knowledge to all her interactions.

She listened to his explanation of Squibs and Muggles with interest and concern. She understood, of course, that not all non-wizards--Muggles--were as accepting as she was, and she did have considerably more experience with supernatural matters than many. Still, it seemed a bit silly to maintain a statute over five hundred years old. No one was being burned at the stake anymore, after all. She imagined witches and wizards these might be treated like any other minority. But she decided not to say anything just yet.

"Anyway, he always thought you should be recognized, I'm just being a progressive.”

"Progress is usually favorable, but I suppose you all are an old lot," Margot said, putting the card in her pocket. Margot didn't mind being a secret. She didn't go out much, and it looked like there was plenty in SHOP to keep her occupied. Any questions? Plenty, Margot thought, but she decided to focus on the important things first.

"I have three, for the moment," she said. "Do you live here, and am I going to live here too? Is there anything in here I should be especially wary of?" She thought that would probably do for the first night. This was not what she'd expected when she left for London, but it wasn't entirely disagreeable.

She placed the card into one of her pockets and Atlas breathed a small mental sign of belief. It had always been stressed to him that muggles were irrational and touchy people, he hadn’t expected her being a secret to be a problem but he hadn’t anticipated that it might go so smoothly either. It was refreshing.

I have three for the moment.. Atlas seated himself across from her and listened intently. Do you live here, and am I going to live here too? Is there anything in here I should be especially wary of? Well that was all easy enough, slightly complicated toward the end but really in the grand scheme of things Margot was remarkable level headed.

He leaned back until he was settled in the chair. The first part of her question was easy enough to answer the second gave him pause. He hadn’t really thought of that but it made perfect sense, really what was she supposed to do. She had only really just arrived in the city, Atlas had never even asked is she had a place to stay. Realizing he was letting the silence drag on uncomfortably he shook himself and smiled slightly. “Yes I live here. The second, third and forth floors mare my home, the first floor and the basement are part of SHOP. Your welcome to live here if you like.” The words came out rather naturally, but the apprehension he felt at the idea lingered in the back of his mind. It wasn’t the idea of Margot living there so much, as the idea of anyone but him living in his space. He had invited her into this world though, and if she lived above SHOP then he would be able to keep an eye on her while she did whatever it was she had come to London to do.

As for things in SHOP…Atlas looked around. “A complete list might keep us busy for the next few days. I’ll do a quick briefing for now, the Lobster Bandits, they are exactly what they sound like. They like to steal anything shiny, keys, rings, foil, but sometimes they snatch something else. If it happens don’t attempt to negotiate with them, just come and find me we have an arrangement worked out. The Moose, as I said sign nothing, just ignore him. There’s Lenny he’s the parrot with the machete, but really unless you make remarks concerning his sister he’ll just stay up on his perch.” He paused, thinking before pulling himself up out of the chair. “Really if you stay my Rudolph though he’ll be able to warn you about any trouble you might be getting into. Otherwise the SHOP is yours to explore.”

He offered her his hand, “Would you like to see the house?”

He smiled at her, and Margot smiled back. She liked people who smiled; she herself didn't do it very often (something her mother had always chided her for. "But Margot, you're so pretty when you smile!" Margot had never minded; she didn't need to be pretty), but she liked it when other people did. Smiles were odd things; they could mean anything, could even be negative. Margot was fascinated by them. She was always relieved by the smiles of living people. Ghosts who smiled were as a rule very frightening.

"You're welcome to live here if you like."

"That would be best if we're going to be friends," she said. "I can't get back into this alley without you if I leave." It occurred to her that she didn't even know how to leave--would she have to do the brick thing again? It didn't matter, she supposed, since she didn't feel any inclination to leave. She was beginning to like this place, and Atlas. She felt almost guilty, like she was forcing herself on him, but she dismissed that. If he didn't want her around, it was a simple matter for him to say no.

She listened while he listed off the more dangerous things in SHOP, nodding to show she was paying attention (she was often falsely accused of daydreaming). When Rudolph was mentioned he gave a weary but affirming "We're all going to die," and Margot gave him a small smile. She felt a slight fluttering of happiness that refreshed her after a life of calm indifference. Had she never been interested in her surroundings before? All the newness of the encounter felt revitalizing.

“Would you like to see the house?”

Margot looked up at him, tall but not intimidating, his hand stretched out to her. She smiled again, wider than before (it felt strange, smiling this much) and put her hand in his, pressing it gently as she stood up.

"Yes, thank you," she said.

She was looking up at him and smiling, the corners of her mouth twitched as if the muscles were confused and unused to the movement. That would be best if we're going to be friends,. The words gave Atlas a brief moment of pause, he didn't allow himself many friends, fewer and fewer as his life progressed but this girl has pushed her way in so easily, effortlessly, and he hadn't fought it. Something to consider, but now wasn't the time not when he was lecturing on the more important facets of the shop. She wanted to stay but at the same time Atlas had no desire to make her feel a prisoner, “We'll see what we can do about getting you in and out of the alley by yourself, until then, if you ever need to leave for any reason simple ask. I am more than happy to assist.”

He jumped when she made contact with his hand and took a deep calming breath before closing his hand around hers, letting her use him to pull herself to her feet. Yes, thank you.. He waited until she was standing before releasing her hand, giving her an almost apologetic look before turning and navigating his way through SHOP, glancing behind to make sure she was still there as he went, “Rudolph, mind the SHOP, if Jasper comes in looking for that potion just hand it over. I'll get payment later.” The skeleton gave a few clacks which Atlas took to mean, 'Yes' and the Wizard and the Medium continued on.

Reaching the back of SHOP took less tie than it sometimes did, Atlas theorized that the place shifted itself around from time to time. He stopped at a small archway, stone with a plain wooden door underneath it. The merchant lifted his right hand and ran it down over the side of the arch. As his fingers made contact with the stone small concentric circular symbols lit up, sending rivets of blue light into the back room. When the arch was fully lit Atlas reached forward, placed his hand around the knob and opened the door, which led to a small staircase. “After you,” He invited gently, stepping out of the way to let Margot through. At the top of the stairs was another door, Atlas leaned over Margot touching his wand to the top of the door there was the sound of locks coming undone and then the hinges swung inward.

“Welcome.” He stepped past the woman, careful not to bump her as he went, taking her hand and leading her into front hall. “Kitchen is directly to your left, pantry is there as well.” He paused, “I don't eat here much, its rather understocked....” He tugged her slightly, moving on down the hallway.

“Left two doors are the library and the sitting room respectively,” He toed the door to the library open with one foot and pointed to the back wall, “Left back wall has a wide selection of muggle literature. I'd advise against perusing anything along the eastern wall....spell books could get a bit,” He wiggled his hand in the air. “Dogdy. Your free to explore on your own of course, second floor are bedrooms, three guest rooms on the right side of the hallway, your free to choose which one you like.” He dropped her hand, leaned against the wall. “Left side is my bedroom and study I would ask for privacy in those areas...” he thought for a moment, he had heard of people who muggle proofed their homes for non magical relatives. Similar to how one might make a home safe for a child, Atlas had always thought of those practices as being rather silly but now as he went through his mental listing wondering what in the house might be potentially dangerous. Abruptly he piped up, “The third floor is my main lab, if I'm working your welcome to observe, as it suits you. However, when I'm not here I cannot express how dangerous going up there could be. I hope that won't be a problem for you....” He trailed off. “But I'm rambling. Questions? Comments? Concerns?”

Margot trailed along behind him, half listening as he pointed to rooms as they passed them. She tried to pay attention to his running commentary, but she kept getting distracted by things as they made their way down the hall. As Atlas pointed towards the eastern shelf in the library, she noticed some of the books switch themselves around. She hung back, staring. Time seemed to slow down.

It was something she'd seen before, but usually with a ghost doing it. There was no visible ghost, which led Margot to believe there was no ghost, since almost every ghost she'd encountered had been visible to her. But though there was nothing ghostly involved in the moving books, she felt the same strange unnatural and otherworldly sort of atmosphere. She felt the urge to go back down into SHOP to see how strong it was there amongst all those strange things; she had barely registered the strangeness of the air, but hadn't thought too much about it because she was focused on Atlas.

She felt a slight tug on her hand. Atlas was moving on. She shook her head and followed him, filing the information away for later consideration. The library would have been a definite stop on her own exploratory ventures, but now it had a touch of excitement to it. She would be careful, of course. She would only look at the spellbooks when Atlas was home, just in case anything should happen.

Atlas stopped at the end of the hallway in front of another staircase and leaned against the wall. Margot vaguely felt like he was appraising her; perhaps gauging her reactions. How did she feel? It was certainly new and unexpected, this meeting and these arrangements...but if Margot was perfectly honest with herself, she finally felt comfortable. The atmosphere of the place--would it be appropriate to call it the atmosphere of magic?--was different than that of spirits and ghosts, yes, but still felt better to her than unhaunted and earthly areas. If Margot indeed had a place on the living plane, she felt strangely that she had found it.

“But I'm rambling. Questions? Comments? Concerns?”

"I enjoy it when people ramble," Margot said. "Unguarded speech is very telling, and a person who rambles is honest whether they want to be or not." She paused. Did she have questions? Plenty, but she had plenty of time for that. Her impression was that this would not be a short stay. "Thank you very much, Atlas. You have no idea how comforting it is to be open about my ability and still be accepted, or treated like a person instead of a freak."

She was so calm…Atlas marveled as he watched her face. There was an air about her that he had first mistaken for aloof and potentially lost but upon further scrutiny he realized that it was much closer to a simple kind of serenity and acceptance of the things around her. It was a marvel a true one. Muggles he had always been told were rather excitable and even hysterical people, you read about it nearly every day some poor Muggle who’s spouse had broken the news about the magical world to them. Most didn’t handle it well; there was a whole ward at St Mungos for it. Yet here was Margot, leaning against the wall in his stairwell neither hyperventilating nor engaging in any sort of fainting spell. It was just further evidence that the Ministry had very little understanding of Muggles and there capacity for adjustment.

I enjoy it when people ramble.. In that case he imagined they might be getting along rather well. He made his best effort to be attentive, Thank you very much, Atlas. His eyes went downward as the words ‘thank you’ tumbled from her lips and made a dismissive sort of noise. There was little to thank him for, and if he thought about this whole situation too much he might try and back out of it.

He was saved from any sort of reply to that particular statement when Margot continued, You have no idea how comforting it is to be open about my ability and still be accepted, or treated like a person instead of a freak.. A brown eyebrow arched up into his hairline and his eyes came back up to sweep over her. Everything in place, two arms, two legs, feet located at the ends, facial features properly in place. Oh. Ability.

“Most people aren’t?” He sputtered for a moment, plucking information from his head and trying to assemble everything he knew about the Muggle concept pf psychic ability. “I’m afraid my knowledge of your, ability is limited at the very best. But hardly something that makes you a freak.” This wasn’t really a conversation to be having in the middle of the drafty hallway and Atlas turned abruptly and began walking back down the hall toward the library, still speaking as he went. “I mean I suppose that those…the ones you see in that picture box thing Muggles seem to love so much. TV psychics The ones with the big audiences and the crystal balls that might be a bit wearing, but surely they can tell the difference?”

He had now opened the door and indicated that she should be seated. He lifted his wand, not really thinking about it and ignited the wood in the fire place before tucking the wand back into his pocket. “Do you communicate with the dead only? Do you see them all the time or just in special cases? I should take you to meet some wizard ghosts, there’s a lovely man down at the end of Knockturn alley who was a Griffin breeder during life. Lovely man…”