One day it'll be one bon mot too many
*In all things there must be balance. Bellatrix is leading the charge, there was nothing Lucius could do about that, and little that he could do about her choice of players. He'd fought hard against Evan's inclusion, and is none too pleased about Igor's, for that matter. The one's a dangerously over-confident child, the other a coward - Lucius at least has the decency to appear stalwart in his convictions, he isn't a toady. That leaves only Rodolphus and himself to balance out a madwoman, a petulant boy, and a vodka-swilling hunyak. This, against two of the most dangerous Aurors in recent history. Five against two are not, this time, comforting odds, for all that it's the kind of math Lucius typically favors.
It's hubris on Bellatrix's part, is what it is; what's attractive confidence in Narcissa is monstrous arrogance in her sister, and it's going to get them all killed if they aren't very careful. It's in light of this that Lucius is uncharacteristically grim as they all step silently out of the Prewett's fireplace, the temporary connection to the Floo network obligingly established for them by Miss Wilkes. Masks in place, the five of them all come through without incident, though Lucius can feel his heartbeat in his ears. This will either be a glorious victory for the Dark Lord, sure to advance him in prestige and trust, or Narcissa will be widowed tonight. There will be no in between in the wake of this fight, he knows it with utter certainty, and he's grateful that the cold impassive porcelain obscures the fear in his face as he steps forward, wand drawn, and cuts Bellatrix a sharp look: keep to the plan.*
It's hubris on Bellatrix's part, is what it is; what's attractive confidence in Narcissa is monstrous arrogance in her sister, and it's going to get them all killed if they aren't very careful. It's in light of this that Lucius is uncharacteristically grim as they all step silently out of the Prewett's fireplace, the temporary connection to the Floo network obligingly established for them by Miss Wilkes. Masks in place, the five of them all come through without incident, though Lucius can feel his heartbeat in his ears. This will either be a glorious victory for the Dark Lord, sure to advance him in prestige and trust, or Narcissa will be widowed tonight. There will be no in between in the wake of this fight, he knows it with utter certainty, and he's grateful that the cold impassive porcelain obscures the fear in his face as he steps forward, wand drawn, and cuts Bellatrix a sharp look: keep to the plan.*