It was just another day in the wizarding community, really. Fortunately, that time of the month for  young Remus Lupin had passed, so although he appeared a bit on the pale, weakly side, he was recovering. As a werewolf, it was difficult to find and keep a good, stable occupation, now that he was out of Hogwarts. Of course, he had his friends to fall back on, but he did not want their charity. The wizarding world was at a treacherous point, where prejudices ran deep. Once an employer found out what he really was, he was out of the job, just like that. But Remus didn't want pity, and he supposed he was getting by well enough. That particular day, he was heading into Diagon Alley to meet up with Sirius. The moment the bricks opened up for him, however, he was greeted by a surprising sight. He stepped into the hotel, not knowing it was that or what it really was, and noticed a long figure waiting for him.

"Hello," he spoke quietly and cautiously in his lightly accented voice. Clearly British. He reached up a hand to absently run his fingers through his hair, a habit of his. "I, ah, seem to be lost."