Amazing the information one could gather just by sitting back and listening. Too many Aurors seemed to disdain that incredibly useful skill, preferring to charge in, wands raised, questions for later, and to hell with the consequences. There were few Aurors left who remembered to just shut up and listen.
Duncan remembered.
He sat in the corner of the room, the hood of his robe raised to shadow his face, a shot of whisky before him. A few empty glasses littered the table.
So far, nothing of intense interest.
And then... she walked in and it was all he could do not to pull out his wand then and there.
Patience. Patience. To hell with patience. But no, this woman had killed Moody. Stupidity would grant him very little this night.
Bellatrix was hyper-aware of everyone around her. Unfortunately that meant she was hyper-aware of everyone's disinterest in her. Except for... there. Dark eyes scanned the room before they landed on the hooded figure across the room. She couldn't discern just who her new friend was, but Bellatrix had felt eyes on her periodically throughout the last twenty or so minutes.
She watched the figure, half-hidden in the shadows, with an expression of the most mild form of interest.
Well, at least someone gave a damn about just who she was.
The dark-haired Death Eater sat forward, leaning over the table before a wide albeit crooked grin spread across her face.
Interesting. Duncan struck a match along the edge of the table, lit the end of a cigarette, inhaled. There. Good. A haze of blue smoke curled and wisped over his head.
He didn't raise an eyebrow at Lestrange's insane grin. Another drag on the cigarette.
Long fingers of one hand slid down her thigh beneath the table. Nails skimmed over the surface of her wand, and Bellatrix's smile only widened at the feel of cool wood against her skin. How wonderful it would make her feel, to simply curse this man dead here and now. Maybe then all the wankers present wouldn't dare forget just who she was and just what she could and would do to any of them.
This man was keeping his cool. My, my. How impressive. Still, Bellatrix was slightly more than a spoiled child. She would not be overzealous just because her admirer showed little sign of true interest. It was hardly in her to care.
She blew the man a kiss before pouring another shot and downing it, sinking back into the shadow of her booth.
Comments 15
Duncan remembered.
He sat in the corner of the room, the hood of his robe raised to shadow his face, a shot of whisky before him. A few empty glasses littered the table.
So far, nothing of intense interest.
And then... she walked in and it was all he could do not to pull out his wand then and there.
Patience. Patience. To hell with patience. But no, this woman had killed Moody. Stupidity would grant him very little this night.
He waited.
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She watched the figure, half-hidden in the shadows, with an expression of the most mild form of interest.
Well, at least someone gave a damn about just who she was.
The dark-haired Death Eater sat forward, leaning over the table before a wide albeit crooked grin spread across her face.
Reply
Watching him watching her.
Interesting. Duncan struck a match along the edge of the table, lit the end of a cigarette, inhaled. There. Good. A haze of blue smoke curled and wisped over his head.
He didn't raise an eyebrow at Lestrange's insane grin. Another drag on the cigarette.
Reply
This man was keeping his cool. My, my. How impressive. Still, Bellatrix was slightly more than a spoiled child. She would not be overzealous just because her admirer showed little sign of true interest. It was hardly in her to care.
She blew the man a kiss before pouring another shot and downing it, sinking back into the shadow of her booth.
Reply
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