(no subject)
For a man as reserved as Severus Snape, being trapped upon death in a place that is largely for social frovioloties is something akin to being trapped on the seventh level of hell having Lucifer himself do terrible things to his extremeties, possibly while telling him about all the sex Lily Evens had with her husband and how she never, ever thought of him once after she walked away from their strained friendship.
However, there are islands of respite. He is watching that Ausa girl whenever she's in the bar and her mother. You can take a spy out of the resistance, but you can't take the spying out of the man. But in the mean time, he manages to either secret himself away in a room somewhere until the dark and the questions become too much and he has to seek to feed his mind.
It's not the social behavior that drives Severus Snape; with a mind as keen as a Ravenclaw's and an ambition as hungry as a Slytherin -- well, we'll simply say he can't keep completely away...
It's simply -- he'd rather be elsewhere. Somewhere more controlled -- or at least, more controllable.
So there he sits in a comfortable chair with a large book open across one leg -- which is crossed over it's mate, his long cloak and robes making him look for all the world like a bat posing as the host of masterpiece theater. A pipe would complete the image, but he quit smoking years ago and sees no point in returning to the abominable habit.
However, there are islands of respite. He is watching that Ausa girl whenever she's in the bar and her mother. You can take a spy out of the resistance, but you can't take the spying out of the man. But in the mean time, he manages to either secret himself away in a room somewhere until the dark and the questions become too much and he has to seek to feed his mind.
It's not the social behavior that drives Severus Snape; with a mind as keen as a Ravenclaw's and an ambition as hungry as a Slytherin -- well, we'll simply say he can't keep completely away...
It's simply -- he'd rather be elsewhere. Somewhere more controlled -- or at least, more controllable.
So there he sits in a comfortable chair with a large book open across one leg -- which is crossed over it's mate, his long cloak and robes making him look for all the world like a bat posing as the host of masterpiece theater. A pipe would complete the image, but he quit smoking years ago and sees no point in returning to the abominable habit.