RP: Bear in a Cage

[rar_rita]

Date: December 27, 1999.
Characters: Rita Skeeter, Fergus Mitchell [NPC]
Location: Holding cells, Ministry of Magic
Status: Private
Summary: Rita gets a moment alone with Fergus.
Completion: Incomplete

Comments

[rar_npc2]

Fergus couldn't see why they'd felt the need to bind him to the fucking chair. Wasn't like he could get out anyway; no wand, people watching, Aurors every damn where. And they had wands, of course.

He looked around the dim, sanitary little room. Way too far underground for windows, and just a couple torches in the rear corners. Still, it was more comfortable than that sodding cell they'd put him in. And it'd be more comfy than Azkaban.

Fergus shuddered at the memory of that place, and tried not to think about the fact that he was probably going back there very soon. He licked his lips and looked over his shoulder, even though no one was there.

The door opened, finally, and the little blond witch he'd seen in the papers walked in. He'd been surprised that someone wanted to talk to him at all - he didn't have any family. But it couldn't hurt, and maybe it'd delay things a bit, at least. And he'd get to say his piece. No one'd ever listened to him before

[rar_rita]

Rita noticed the smirk and the roving eye. Couldn't fail to; he wasn't very subtle about it. She smiled. That was good. Being appreciated could only ever work in her favour. Well, as far as men were concerned anyway. When they were thinking with their cocks, they didn't tend to be able to use their brains too well

[rar_npc2]

Fergus crossed his arms as the woman crossed the room, not sitting down. Course she wouldn't feel like she had to. Wouldn't feel like she owed him that much respect. Finally, she did sit down, and he yanked himself up straighter instinctively.

"Nobody was wantin' ta interview me last time I was in 'ere," Fergus said suspiciously; it had for a lesser crime, sure, but he was having trouble thinking anyone actually wanted to hear his side of the story. "Won't change nuffin', yeah?"

Maybe the Ministry'd just use this as another stick to crack him over the head with. Still. Probably wasn't hurting him any more than it would help. "Just sellin' papers, more like," he said churlishly, but he eyed her. Did that many people want to read about him? "Still, ain't every day birds like you pay attention ta me. Go ahead."

[rar_rita]

He straightened when she sat down, and he was big. Much bigger than her. She found herself looking up at his face even though they were sitting down

[rar_npc2]

Fergus' eyes tracked to the table, and the cigarettes, then he glanced back at Rita. Wouldnt've pegged her for someone who smoked - usually it showed in the teeth, in the fingers -- like with him. But fuck, what did he know -- maybe when you were rolling in gold you could afford to hide that shite.

"You mind if I 'ave one a' them?" he asked. He'd not had one in days. Felt like longer. She was getting her story, such as it was. Surely she could spare a cigarette, or three.

He scowled at her quill, hovering over the pad on its own. "I've seen them before," he said. "Cost more than I made all year. Talkin ta' criminals must pay a lot."

Rita cut to the subject, and he held her gaze as long as possible. He shrugged off her question. "Kid I pummeled lived ta' talk about it," he said simply. "An' the fire, they say someone saw me."

[rar_rita]

"Have one of...?" Rita feigned not understanding, then, "Oh, a cigarette? Why not? Just don't try to burn the place down, hm?" She smiled at her own wit, opening her handbag and offering him the pack, palming her lighter in the process. "I'll light it for you, just so they don't come storming in here."

She glanced at her quill when he made the comment about it. "It pays well enough," she said. "I've had that since I was eighteen. Bought it with my first pay check, then ate chocolate peanuts for a month. What do you do for a living?" A more accurate question might have been 'what did you do?', but it was probably too early to start talking in past tense.

He mentioned the kid and she nodded, intrigued by the way he held her gaze before answering but couldn't while he spoke. "The kid. What did he do to provoke you?" she asked.

[rar_npc2]

"Real funny," Fergus groused, at Rita's comment about him not burning the place down.

She asked him what he did for a living, and he snorted. "Odd jobs," he decided with a shrug. "I pick up work where I can. Don' have much trainin', for nuffin'."

He scratched the back of his neck, still avoiding her gaze. Should've expected this question, but it wasn't anything he'd given much thought until just now. "Not sure," he said, though that wasn't completely true. It was too bloody complicated to think about, was all. "Was drunk as fuck, at the time. Kid was hasslin' me. Wouldn't a' done it for no reason. 'm not crazy."

[rar_rita]

Rita chuckled at his irritation, lighting the smoke for him once he'd taken it.

"No training?" she asked. "For anything? Did you go to Hogwarts?"

She sat back in the chair again, crossing one leg over the other and considering him. "Hassling you?" she asked. "How so?"