"If it weren't for that one-eyed pet shop owner and the resulting stampede, this could never have happened."

Kingsley Shacklebolt rolled his eyes and shot down his glass of whiskey, waiting for Moody to, hopefully, realize no one was interested in the telling of the tale.

His hopes weren't realized.

Alastor Moody was mad. Hell, everyone knew that. Hence the whole 'Mad Eye' nickname. And let's face it, you'd have to be a little mad to be Moody. He wasn't the kind of man that you just thought was a bit odd. He was intense. That was the polite word for it. He gave himself completely in his work. He dedicated his waking moments, and possibly some of his sleeping ones as well, to the Order, to the Ministry, and to the general public at large.

But did he have to do it so dramatically?

Kingsley groaned when Moody continued. "No, seriously. We never could have just found that cache of hidden Dark Arts weaponry in that little Muggle accountants' office if it hadn't been for him. How many pet shop owners even carry a menagerie like that? Did you see the animals he had in there? A Shetland pony, even!"

Kingsley held his hand up. "Moody, keep it down. It's not safe enough to bellow on about…"

"There's no one here seeking for the other team, Kingsley. Trust me, I'd know." Moody tapped the side of his head, his eye spinning around so fiercely that Kingsley felt the downed whiskey rolling in his stomach. "Besides, I've got a toy or two in me pocket. If there was anyone here planning to cause trouble, I'd know."

The bartender set a steaming glass in front of Moody. The liquid bubbled once, loudly, with a squelch that sickened Kingsley more. Mad-Eye picked it up and downed it, the green liquid disappearing completely.

"I know it's our time off, Moody. I know we just got off of a long shift. And I know that we have time to kill before our next little engagement." Kingsley sighed deeply, frustrated that his compatriot wanted to spend their two hours between work and Order meeting in a grimy little bar in the middle of nowhere, 'to distract people who may want to spy on our movements'. "But really, do you have to rehash this story over and over? Besides, we're not supposed to discuss work outside of the Ministry."

Moody waved him off. "Kingsley, my boy, look around. No one is paying attention to us. Seriously, they're all busy with their own chats." He smiled a rather crooked, almost frightening sort of smile over his still-smoking glass. "Besides, I never thought in all my years as an auror to see a pony and a pair of wizard-trained monkeys actually help uncover a ring of Dark Arts weapons smugglers. It's unheard of. Maybe a kneazle or a hippogriff, you know. But most of those animals were Muggle-bred. Ordinary cats in there, even! And for all of them to stampede through that hole the pony made, upturning the counter! Well, those poor Muggle policy-men didn't know what to do."

Kingsley groaned into his cup again. "Policemen, Moody. Not policy-men. Seriously, wasn't Muggle Studies a required NEWT when you joined?"

Moody rolled his eyes. "No, lad. We didn't have time to worry about requirements back then. Too busy fighting old Grindewald."

"Well, once again, keep it down, damn it, Moody. Someone might hear!"

Moody's voice carried louder. "Who's going to hear us talking in here?" His arm waved widely around the bar, giving Kingsley the impression that Moody was fairly well on his way to inebriation.

In fact, his arm waving almost made him miss the tall, black-cloaked figure slink out the side entrance, hurriedly, a scurrying quality to his steps. Moody turned his head just in time to catch the sight for himself. With a sardonic wink, he set the glass of pepper-up potion on the counter and grabbed his cloak. "And you didn't think I could successfully play the part."

Kingsley slapped a galleon on the counter to pay for their drinks as they hurried out the door and after their new-found prey. "Well, Mad-Eye, honestly, I've never seen you drunk."

Moody laughed harshly and low. "And that, my boy, is why it was so successful as a cover. Now, let's go catch that Death Eating runner-boy before he gets to his contact, shall we?"