Tugging at his dampened sleeves as to not cause it to shrink from the rain water (and for the mild relief of warmth to soothe him while his drink was being readied), he mimicked her motion of swiveling in his stool which was spaced a gracious amount from her spot. Her slickly inserted comments were deserving of a reply, of course. “Not usually,” He stated factually. Nowadays his work hours seemed to be from nine to five - that is, of course, nine p.m. to five a.m. Today was a rather odd day for him, there was no miraculous splendid party the night before (hence why he tucked into bed so early) and no plans for today. Not a meeting, introduction, luncheon, or other social endeavor. Bored would be too liberal a word, but he was certainly ill-at-ease for the lack of activity. If he wasn’t doing his duty or work, he wasn’t sure what to do with himself nowadays.

The big, bad Wizarding World had drastically changed, and he was only just starting to catch up. “As I’ve found out today, there isn’t much to do while the sun is still out.” He added with true honesty, though it was said only for humor‘s sake. While hypocritically always wanted to look the epitome of the best, he didn’t have the patience or perseverance to find his own clothes - so shopping was out of the question. He wasn’t exactly with anyone for the majority of today, so there was no even social merriment, merely menial tasks that had to be done such as a trip to the bank and mathematically postulating how much money the next grand gala would cost (not that money was an issue). All Aiden could be thankful for is his spot in the Walpurgis Knights, as it actually gave him leeway to experiment with potions - something that wasn’t a requirement to be a potential courtier.

To the latter bit of her comment about being ‘back’, he could only grimace faintly in response. Aiden was lucked into the lesser evil of two monotonous paths of life. He’s showed little appreciation for his newfound freedom - save piling up more reasons to get thrown back into prison (for something he actually did this time). Not that life thus far has been completely horrendous. Small things like eating well-cooked meals, sleeping in downy sheets before a flaming hearth, and bathing when he wanted were precious luxuries he couldn’t remember how he dealt without. The socialization has been easy enough, though the younger generation seems far more forgiving than the elder purebloods, and he’s done a pretty fabulous job in reacquainting with old friends, flames, and foes in the short amount of time he’s had, as it helps override the feeling of misplacement and perplexity.

“In the case of celebration then - cheers,” Aiden additively mused, not at all offended by a woman drinking something other than red wine. While true that the conservative ideals (usually the parents of socialites his age) frowned upon public knowledge of fornication, heavy boozing and gambling, and even ‘naughty’ clothing, it sure as hell happened, more often than the elders would like to acknowledge. Aiden was very much aware, he was one of those raucous lads (at one point in time that is) that tempted his peers with the potential fun of an empty manor and the key to his father’s liquor cabinet. “How is your twin?” He conversationally asked, seeing as it was his turn to. Besides, may as well lay out and keep brief the small talk preemptively to the serving of alcohol. It was his ‘job’, so to speak, to network effectively with his peers, not douse them with the slurs of a cynic. “And the rest of the MacNairs for that matter.”

“If you say so,” Aiden replied almost uncharacteristically obligingly as his mug was set down before him. What she meant by ‘interests’ was very debatable, but nothing particular enough to question about. Everyone had their own opinion on everything in which he could only gander their opinion on him (as each person seems to distinctly have their own idea). It would be dreadfully tiresome if Aiden went and questioned their exact thoughts on him - not mentioning obtusely narcissistic. Still, most usually the young Malfoy would only raise argument for the sake of playing Devil’s advocate - most usually playful, but slightly competitive nonetheless- the rain must have soothed his drive to be obnoxiously contradictory. Besides, it was quite easy to nonverbally speak to a counterpart as it was to voice dialogue, for Aiden at least, he could very well get the gist of her present thoughts on him if he really cared to know. The tickle of laughter from her voice box, however, inspired him to forget the frivolities of thought and to behave in the same playful manner. As she lifted her drink so did he, throwing back a hearty gulp (though obviously more modest than his counterpart) with a gentle smirk painted on his visage.

Aiden had always found both Araminta and Tristinia very attractive in personality for the most indefinable of reasons, unlike the usual rich snobs, debutantes, and severely old with money. While it was clear that he could pin them as ‘alluring’ for different reasons (as they did have differing traits in his eye), he was easily entertained if only for the most minuscule reasons or indirect ways. A prime example being right now, Malfoy was quite amused by the demureness in her vague words, such as ‘interests’ and ‘busy’. Raveled in mystery, Aiden could not precisely detect whether she was playing coy or being coy (as there was a distinct difference). Reading people was an underhanded game Malfoys have loved to play for generations, naturally Aiden would take part, it always made the subsiding small chat much more interesting. In response, however, he was not so intricate or detailed (not that he ever was), returning a small, acknowledging nod and satisfied smirk to her declarations.

And of course, the volley was then turned on him, as customary. Brief and cordial, that’s how he was supposed to keep it. Being bearable was no easy trick for Aiden Malfoy, especially because he was not the simplest to get along with merely on first impression, tolerating his mannerisms as they organically came was near impossible. Hence, he had to be a certain attitude of discombobulated personality. “How many generations have been stocking and storing all the Malfoy fortune?” Aiden asked rhetorically, reaching into his coat’s pocket once more and plucking out some more coins - apparently physical proof to her claims. Placing the money down on the table between their mugs, he continued in his sardonic explanation as if it were the most logical reason to be so wanton and flippant about money, “It’s almost obligatory to spend it - we’ve only got so much room in our Gringott’s vault.” As Aiden has been assured all his life, there was no way that money would ever be an issue due to the profits, ventures, and most likely dark deeds of his ancestors. How the money got there was lost in history, but the physical evidence remained after many generations. Unless he was disowned (which was something Aiden was definitely trying to steer away from), he was set as well as the next three generations after him without contributing a cent.

Other than his lack of money woes, everything has been distinctly quiet. Though saying that his whole household has spent a ridiculous amount of time huddling around together in quiet reunion upon his return was probably too uninteresting for Araminta’s taste and too much information for Aiden to want to voluntarily share. Aiden himself was a character that thrived on change and constant, differentiating amusement based on his array of contradictory, whimsical personality traits. To say that the most pleasantries he’s had lately has been bubble baths and sharing a laugh with his family members would be rather pathetic on his end. Then again, not much else has happened that he‘d like to claim to. “They’re well - the whole family is in the midst of planning this year’s Christmas festivities,” He said with a knowing roll of his eyes. All that could mean for the next month was havoc by all involved. Now that the formalities were over, Aiden was unabashedly swift in sliding into a bit of their conversation pushed aside temporarily. “Seeing as there is nothing to do of my interests during the day, what do you suggest I should try for a night in Diagon Alley, then?”