The old man and the bar keep

Rose decides to go over to the old man and the barkeep. The old man with freckles on his balding head, seems to be wagering for a new glass of mead. Rose took note of a scar going from the barkeep's ear down the middle of his chest. He shook his head at the old man's attempts at lowering his prices.

His dazzling blue eyes find the green eyes doe in his pub. "Hello, there ma'am. What brings you to my establishment? Beer, mead, turkey legs, cheese, room, a room for two." He throws a wink at you. "If you need one..."

The old man spoke up. "No. No. If you need someone to sleep with you. I will. Not in bed of course. I'll guard you against this stockbroker."

"Come on Glen. You know damn well by now spend your coin on my beer, or get the fuck out of here." He said sternly to the regular occurrence customer.

"Hey, missy why don't you pay for my mead and I'll buy the next round." Rose knew she will not get the money back if she crave to the old man's words. She also didn't have a single muggle dollar to her name.

Rose spoke disregarding the older man's words for a second. "Can I get a butter bear?"

"What?" They said at the same time.

The barkeep said. "You want me to add a stick of butter to a cold glass of beer? Umm, that's a very unusual combination. Why would someone stick butter in a glass of fine golden beer? Mmm, are you American by chance?"

The old man said with a wide grin. "I can give you some butter beer if you come with me."

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