Several Days, Several Threads

[emptyyourself]

[Who:] Severus Snape, John Connor, Sirius Black, Open to others
[What:] Several days in Paris
[When:] Friday, Saturday, Sunday

Tag in, start your own, general Day in the Life rules. I'm open to anything!

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Friday, Reserved for Sirius Black

[emptyyourself]

Friday, Reserved for Sirius Black

[sirius_is_a_dog]

At least Paris wasn't the Barge. Sirius was waiting for the day the shadowy apparitions became Dementors. He was waiting to turn a corner and run smack into the ghost of his dead best mate. He hadn't been sleeping much since Azkaban, but it wasn't really Azkaban that was bothering him. He spent a lot of his time as Padfoot. It was easier that way.

He doubted he'd get away with that now. Not here in Paris, pretending he was going to bond with Snape of all people. He arrived at the designated meeting spot in his muggle clothing, his wand hidden away.

Friday, Reserved for Sirius Black

[emptyyourself]

Severus wasn't planning to attempt to bond with Black; he simply wanted to make the attempt to find common ground and thus appear to be doing right by his inmate.

After six months in the Muggle world with Martha, and time before that in various ports like this one - and two decades as a spy - he had gotten the knack of dressing like a Muggle. Trousers, shirt, wool topcoat - all black, of course; while he somehow still managed to billow a bit, he otherwise looked quite average. Forgettable. Blending in wasn't a problem for him. He wondered how his cohorts were fairing - Lupin might have no problems, but Bellatrix and Lucius would probably stick out like sore thumbs.

At least Sirius had followed directions, he noted grimly. He approached the other man with resignation, knowing he was probably in rare form today. Halloween was closing in fast.

[sirius_is_a_dog]

Sirius had been hoping for some bloody mess of a get-up that involved a loud-print shirt and denims. Of course, that was far too much to hope for. Snape looked, well, normal. Perhaps slightly old fashioned, but he would expect nothing less. He nodded as Snape approached. He reminded himself it was good to be off the Barge, and Snape undoubtedly wanted to spend time as little time with him as possible. He'd cut him loose sooner or later.

Saturday, Noon, Pont Neuf - Reserved for John Connor

[emptyyourself]

It was a shame that he was wasting his time in Paris on nonsense related to Bellatrix Lestrange and her wand, but such was life. Not that Severus particularly wanted to be in France in the first place. He had complained once already about the distinctly Continental slant their ports had taken recently - Germany, and now Paris - and was frankly somewhat tired of having to rely upon the scraps of a foreign language he'd learned as a child.

It wasn't homesickness. Certainly not.

He was at Pont Neuf not long before noon, awaiting Connor with an eye on the bouquinistes and the vague idea that he didn't need any more books (but then again...). At least it was distracting him from other, darker ideas. After all, if Connor was here, then Bellatrix could be anywhere. Doing anything. Possibly to Martha's detriment. Better to get this meeting over with as quickly as possible.

Re: Saturday, Noon, Pont Neuf - Reserved for John Connor

[metallonkardia]

John is there well before noon; he bought a GPS and spoke in broken-but-patient French with the concierge of his hotel, ultimately having no trouble finding the place. He's never minded walking - even injured like he is - and despite the way seeing any of this makes him feel like a traitor, it's... well it's not nice, but he's not taking the atmosphere for granted.

He waits against the great stone railing, keeping himself on the edges of clumps of excited tourists, never letting himself cut a lone figure (target). When he sees whom he figures is the man he's here to meet, he quietly disengages the tangle of people he'd been lurking amongst and heads over to him. John stops just to one side, close enough to be heard but out of immediate strike range, expression unreadable.

"Severus Snape?"

[emptyyourself]

Severus turns rather sharply at the sound of his name, the movement more natural than surprised. In spite of his Muggle attire, he manages to billow - at least about the lower half of his coat. He looks John over with the air of a man who is quite put out, and so he is; it irritates him that his fellow warden managed to get the jump on him.

Too much complacency aboard the Barge, clearly. If John Connor can waltz up without Snape noticing, Bellatrix could find it child's play to do the same.

"Mr. Connor. There is something to be said for punctuality." Of course, whatever it is is, he isn't going to say it.

[metallonkardia]

If it's any consolation, it's more John's years spent as a vagrant that give him the edge on vanishing into crowds than his military training, and it's unlikely that Bellatrix has that particular feature in her psychological Swiss Army Knife of terror.

He doesn't startle when the other man turns, and just looks at him - maybe in appraisal - before he nods. Hello. "You look like you'd prefer to get this handled quickly."

So let's talk.

Saturday - Open - Multiples welcome

[emptyyourself]

Saturday - Open - Place de La Bastille and The Square Henri-Galli

[impure_tale]

This appears to be the place.

[It's midday and they're surrounded by a throng of shoppers in the open air market in the Place de la Bastille -- the former site of the famous fortress. The Marquis looks down at his feet, and in a few thoughtful steps traces a few of the ornate paving stones meant to outline the former building. Where the Marquis has been the picture of frivolity and excess since their arrival there -- shopping like a madman, ordering only the most expensive food and springing for all the amenities in their hotel rooms -- he is bizarrely somber, now. His mirth is gone.]

[truemask]

[ Still a new addition to the Barge and indeed, the Marquis' acquaintance, Lucius couldn't exactly determine if the man was not his usual. That said, the shift in demeanor is one that's tangible - a crowded, Muggle city is no where Lucius desires to get lost and thus hasn't objected to the company, nor the spending that's come with it, and 'picture of frivolity' is a description he'd confirm.

His cane clicks down against the pavement as their pace slows. He is dressed in what can only be described as quasi-Muggle, his coat one of a little excess and elaborate detail without actually being a cloak, but slacks and a shirt beneath that rather less so, expensive but plain. ]

Awfully popular, isn't it.

[ He isn't ignorant, however, not to Muggle history nor detail given in his Warden's file. ]

[emptyyourself]

[Whereas Lucius is dressed to the nines, even in Muggle attire, Snape is rather reserved in his own clothing. All black, of course, with a wool topcoat. Stolen from the Suburbia port; his counterpart there wouldn't mind, he has always maintained.

He isn't watching the crowd; he's keeping his eye on the Marquis. His first meeting with the man was after the Marquis met with a ghost from his past and suffered a heart attack, and while his expression is impassive as ever, he can't help but feel a twinge of concern.

Over-protectiveness from the very beginning.]

As well it should be. A matter of national pride, no doubt: the very place where a revolution began.

Sunday - Martha, Mozenrath, Open - Multiple Threads Welcome

[emptyyourself]

Re: Sunday - Martha, Mozenrath

[mightymorbid]

[They did not put themselves up in the same hotel so he has to walk a ways to meet them. This means he's bundled up again. He has a cloak with a heating charm, yes, but it would have appeared strange in this setting.]

So what are we doing?

[thegooddrjones]

[Martha was wearing her dragon coat, and she smiled when she saw Mozenrath. For a moment she shrugged and then looked around.]

Dinner? What's something that you've wanted to do but haven't gotten a chance to do yet?

[emptyyourself]

[When Mozenrath joined them, Snape was still fussing with his coat - though fussing was probably a bad word for it. Adjusting and brushing out nonexistent wrinkles, then. It wasn't a cloak and therefore was beginning to upset him.

He glanced at the other man, feeling a momentary pang of sympathy (though it was a very small pang, to be sure). He suspected Mozenrath could relate to the desire for a cloak - particularly with the weather as it was.]

So long as we are nowhere near Arthas, we can do anything the pair of you like.