SPIES CHECK IN. For adoralies
[Fenrir is lounging in this throne made of human bones, one leg dangling off the arm rest, reading the Daily Prophet.]
Nothing 'bout me yet! Pah! C'mon, ickle Anita, I know yeh have it in you...
[But for now he's just going to flip the page, fart loudly, and start singing along with the tattered old boombox he keeps nearby. Right now it's Queen's "Under Pressure."]
Nothing 'bout me yet! Pah! C'mon, ickle Anita, I know yeh have it in you...
[But for now he's just going to flip the page, fart loudly, and start singing along with the tattered old boombox he keeps nearby. Right now it's Queen's "Under Pressure."]