Albiorix found himself lingering outside the door to the Leaky Cauldron, glancing up towards the small iron sign post of a witch mixing a cauldron with a crack on it, watching it swing the wind. He didn't head in immediately, instead he lingered for a few minutes, he didn't want to show up on time, he didn't want to show up at all. And part of Albi was stalling just in hopes that Hawke would think he stood him up and leave. So he stood silent, wearing a deep purple cloak with a silver button up vest underneath. A pair of light brownish tan pants over a pair of black boots. Again, far too flashy for Albiorix, but he needed to fit in and he needed to look as different from Albiorix and those necromancers, as possible. His real wand hidden just under his cloak, in an easy to access place just in case he needed it quickly.<br/><br/>Slowly Albiorix reached into his cloak as he pulled out his last bit of precaution, something that he had learned from Rosa many years ago. Slowly pulling out a small glass vial filled with a light pink liquid, Amortentia. A love potion, but Albiorix had no inclination to make Hawke fall in love with him. In fact, that would be counter productive. Albi wanted to push him away. But he had learned from Rosa that just a few dabs on each side of your neck tends to throw even the best wizards of balance. To each person Amortentia smelled like the most appealing thing in the world. It was a perfect cologne and would surely cause Hawke to loose up a bit, in case things began tense or he tried to get close enough to try something. Even if it only provided him with a second worth of pause, it was worth it. Uncorking the bottle he dabbed a bit on his finger as he slowly smeared it on his neck. The smell of fresh pine, a burning fireplace and the morning dew hit his nose. It was still powerful stuff, even if only inhaled, it caused Albiorix to stand slightly entranced from it for a second. Before closing the bottle and putting it back away.<br/><br/>Once he was ready to dive in he opened the door and entered the small pub/restaurant/inn. It didn't take him long to spot Hawke, in fact his eyes were immediately drawn there by the way was staring at the door. Albiorix stepped closer as he flashed his most charming smile. "<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#a64dff">Sorry I'm a little late, you didn't have to wait on me.</span>" He chuckled as he slowly moved to sit in the wooden chair next to Hawke. The low chatter of the tavern's patrons providing them with enough privacy to discuss whatever would come of this 'date'. Which Albiorix knew was not so innocent. Eventually the waiter came around with Hawke's gillywater. "<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffff00">There you are, sir. And can I perhaps help you now?</span>" The man turned his gaze to Albiorix's head. "<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#a64dff">Firewhisky please.</span>" Albiorix immeidately responded, smiling again. "<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffff00">Course, coming right up.</span>" The man moved away from the table, seeming to get a bit of flare to his step as he moved to the bar. Slowly glancing to Hawke and his beverage. "<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#a64dff">Gillywater, really?</span>" He lifted his eyebrow as he eyed the man, trying to spark some kind of casual and boring conversation. "<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#a64dff">That stuff is terrible. It tastes like dirty swamp water. How do you stand it?</span>" Albiorix leaned 'carelessly' into his seat as he waited for his Firewhisky to be brought to the table. Of course, it didn't matter what Albi planned to get, he didn't intend on drinking it. Just for show for now. "<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#a64dff">Come now, you should at least have a bit of a stiff drink. You deserve it after the days you've gone through. First an attack on the ministry, then Albiorix resurfacing? I'm surprised you haven't passed out.</span>" He leaned forward again, propping his head on his hand as he stared at Hawke, trying to appear interested as best he could. A strand of his slicked black hair falling out of place across his forehead.