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Whether it would seem silly to the one in question or not, Leta felt a visit was long overdue. The White Wyvern was a place the witch could be found only rarely, when occasion would strike. It was convenient such a moment had come; the blonde had found her way there. In fact, for the first time she���d even tried the food there. Somehow the establishment had always given the impression of being a simple place, more for the drinking type than those wishing to dine. “I hope you don’t mind me calling you out here, but I’m not entirely sure how to reach you.” Of course, Leta could have sent an owl. That seemed too harsh, impersonal. “First of all, since it seems rude otherwise. The food was nice.”

Slender hands reached to take a quick sip of the wine in front of her. “That aside, I came to give you this. Whether you wish to use it is entirely up to you.” It was simple clothing. Not the usual cloaks she’d have handed other death eaters. Given that she wasn’t all that familiar with the one in front of her, it seemed like the most basic of things. “I have made these for all that have joined. Simple protection against the unwanted.” The former Slytherin could only hope it would make sense to the one in front of her. “Oh, Leta Rosier. I work at Madam Malkin’s. If I feel like it.” Wasn’t that the truth. Dedicated, yet growing more and more accustomed to just working in her own workshop. The blonde offered her hand. Least she could do. - @battle-scvrs

"Table three want to talk to the chef," had been yelled in Fenrir's general direction amongst the rest of the hustle and bustle of the kitchen by the bartender who disappeared almost as quickly as they'd appeared. "Fuck's sake...what now," he'd muttered to himself, wiping his hands against his chef's whites to make himself a little more presentable. Making his way out into the main room of The White Wyvern, Fenrir quirked an eyebrow at the person sat at table three. "I heard you wanted to speak to me, what can I help with?"

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Interviews, something Rita loved and hated with equal measure. Well, not so much the interviews as the people in question. Some simply seemed to bore the witch beyond anything. Juliet had proven to be a little less on the annoying side, piquing her interest just enough to make it worth it. “Right. I asked you a question. Nothing else.” The blonde was neither confused nor deterred to continue as though nothing happened, glancing down at the napkin.

“I asked if you see yourself and the others one day among the rest of the stars. Or starlets. Whatever it is you prefer.” There it was, that smile that made it all sound much softer. “So?” - @spellboundjuliet

｡･:*:･ﾟ★ OPEN STARTER !

Head cocked to the side as she looked at the person opposite her through curious eyes. "Wait, say the last thing you said again." She'd only been half-listening, in truth, but something had caught her attention. She grabbed a spare napkin and the self-inking quill she always kept on her, and scribbled down some words, before looking back up. "It sounded really poetic."

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“You wound me.” Amycus was joking, for the most part. Even though he seemed like the quiet one, the depth of his mind went deep. Part of him simply wanted to have that extra bit of care. Perhaps that was his own ego reading to roar and boast about his own accomplishments. Still, he remained quiet as he observed the witch in front of him. The occamy shells were perfect, exactly what he’d been looking for. His mind was spinning entire tales of potential uses, lists forming within the vortex up above. “Of course, have I ever been one to let you down?” Amycus looked at her, brows raised. The wedding hadn’t been entirely on him. The result a shared event. Beyond that, could she accuse him of anything?

Her words held a truth he could hardly deny. Only his smirk was left that gave the idea of someone entirely relaxed, not a care in the world. Still, the reality of the statement made wasn’t lost on the alchemist. “It appears that way, doesn’t it.” Heck, his own sister had found herself happily married with someone. That was something the blond had not expected to see. Not yet either way. Not that it was all that surprising. Sometimes things simply made sense. “I doubt you’d be all that surprised to hear that I did not have to deal with nearly the list of things you had thrown your way.” Eyebrows, yet again. “It’s out of my control.” The wizard wouldn’t deny the truth if asked. - @valeria-flint

“How much you want to hear that it is only for you, you are not the only one. All returning customers have a case on restock,” Val smiled at him and then turned around to move in the direction of where the Occamy eggshells were stocked. They were very expensive so they weren’t on public display for that reason. You wouldn’t want to make it too easy for possible robbery’s. She returned with a few of the shells. “These are the only ones I can offer, I hope you have brought the money because you know these aren’t cheap.” Val placed the two shells carefully on the desk.

“They seemed to forget it a bit, especially with all these weddings and pregnancies going on at the moment. It seems like everyone is settling down all of a sudden.” Although Val wasn’t sure that just a little ignorance from many people was that good of a thing either. She was still figuring it all out, still. “How about you? Do you have any aftermath to deal with?”

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Clara Ivanova was clear on her stance, adamant not to associate with too many of those that seemed to disagree with the views her family and those she considered her friends would share. Yet with someone like James it was hard. There was one thing the brunette valued almost as much as the purity those considered close to her believed in, and it was, without a doubt, the sportsmanship only a quidditch play could show. Mostly on the field the witch didn’t often get a chance to experience it, beyond the occasional word of congratulations. Or the occasional harsher comment. Not everyone was as cheery as the wizard in front of her.

“No, that’s fine. We can share. It’s not like you haven’t seen me play, as you’ve just proven.” Clara allowed a rare smirk to grace her features, usually reserved for a select few. “Thank you. The same goes for you. Not a bad a player, not a bad player at all.” And then another question. "Why are you here this late?" - @jamesffleamont

Despite his competitiveness – borderline audacity – on the pitch, James was far better behaved off of it. He took pride in being friends with many players from rival teams, and having at least decent relationships with the rest. Clara he hadn't had the opportunity to quite figure out, though.

He was in half a mind to confess that he had just been heading home, but since Lily was away working at the hospital tonight, he figured there was no reason to rush back. He could use the company; ever the extrovert, he'd never voluntarily choose to be alone. "If that's alright with you?" he asked. "Tell me to stay in that corner if you want– I won't take it personally, I promise." In their industry, there were lots of egos; James had resolved to be as gracious as he could no matter what. "I've been meaning to congratulate you on your win a couple of weeks ago. You played amazingly – there was a dive you did in the second half that was just beautiful. It was like watching a bird swoop down."

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The witch listened, smiling as the words flowed out of the other as though the excitement was too much to hold in. She could understand, of course. To a degree at least. When it came to children the brunette had little to no experience, not having any of her own or any within her immediate family. “I suppose it’s only fair, isn’t it? If you come down here for a snack you should be bringing something home. Maybe they’ll have some fresh cauldron cakes. Or perhaps some cheering cherry tarts?”

Either of those seemed like a lovely choice. Both sweet and cheerful. “Not sure they leave much room for experimentation, though.” If that was what Arthur was after perhaps some other, more creativity allowing items would be best. “I’ll be getting some of the cheering cherry tarts. Oh, what about sugared butterfly wings?” It seemed like an odd choice but she’d seen some in the window and felt far too curious to pass up on the chance. - @arthurxweasleyx

Arthur nodded. "Oh I know the feeling. Though it's been harder to keep a snack drawer with Molly and the kids around. We tried a shared one, but I've found it's better to pop down when I want a snack. Reduced the amount and I get some exercise, besides fewer snacks means you can get more creative without feeling guilty about it. Though usually getting creative just means piling everything together." Arthur thought what he could get. Which snacks would survive the transport home and still be tasty if they weren't so fresh. "I should probably get them something. Molly will be cross with me if I show up tasting like licorice, and didn't bring anything back for her, besides you would be surprised how long you can keep a child occupied by giving them a chocolate frog."

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“Should I be doubting you?” Hestia shook her head, the laugh indication enough that she wasn’t going to bother doubting him or question him for that matter. It was simple as that. A nod, to follow along his other words. “I am nothing if not that, aren’t I?” The Hufflepuff was indeed committed. Some might even claim overly so. Perhaps there was some truth to the fact that Hestia, at times, could hardly say no to work. It was something she had in common with a few of those she considered her friends. Workaholics among each other, or something along the lines.

She glanced at her bag for a moment, deciding against the usual habit of continuing work outside of work. “I’ll keep my files wrapped up. Consider it my treat. And the next round,” the witch pointed at the drinks. “Is on me. I feel I owe you that much.” - @gideonscprewett

"Are you doubting me?" He shakes his head, a smirk on his lips as he not actually offended but playing it up for the bit. Outside of work he could joke around and have a good time with his friends and coworkers, but he took his job seriously. "

"You are the picture book definition of committed, I'll admit." That's what made him respect Hestia so much, her dedication and commitment to the auror department. There were few in her department he trusted as fully as he did her. With Hestia on a case he knew the solve rate went up signifcantly.

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who: @ludobagmcns where: Diagon Alley when: mid-afternoon

Was it the Christmas cheer or simply a growing boredom on days off? Whatever the case Estelle found herself wandering the path of Diagon Alley, browsing a store here or there. Christmas shopping was done on the side, most things arranged simply to be delivered to her home. There was no need to be bothering with too much baggage and in fact, most bags and boxes simply didn’t look nice enough to be carried around.

Last stop was the quidditch supply shop. A few things in the display window had caught her eye and by now she knew by far more quidditch players and those in appreciation of the sport than she cared to put into words. The witch didn’t mind the sport, was happy to indulge a little bit here and there. It was a familiar face that drew her attention, caused her to shift her weight and turn to face the other. “I would say it’s a surprise, but honestly, where else would one find you if not in front of a quidditch supply shop, hm?” Head tilted to the side she moved closer, heels clicking on the ground below. “Hello, Ludo.”

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While there was no denying that she had, in fact, already gotten hurt she was also not going to voice the extend out loud. Leta wouldn't have dared to disagree that her hopes and dreams had been entirely foolish. "Hm, so you say." A nod. "I will not disagree with you. The list of ladies is precisely why I'm here." Oh, the list. "I will admit, I may have been foolish in thinking it to be anything more than it was, but that is beside the point now. The past is in the past; for both of us." Leta held respect for the other, valued the opinion of someone who clearly knew what they were talking about.

"I do take it you may have had your own encounter then, hm?" Despite it all she managed a smile. It was kindness, not a desire to make the other feel worse. "I have no doubt you'll be attending the next event with someone at your arm. If they know what is right. Plenty of people out there know it wasn't all on you. Now, lets go have some fun." That much she was determined to have. - @valeria-flint

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“I do have good ideas, occasionally.” More than occasionally, to be honest but Hestia was okay leaving it at that. With a smile on her lips, a hint of pride within the corners of it, the witch began to scan the crowd. Nothing too obvious, but if they had to be there due to her parents wishes, she may as well make the most of things. “I’ll hold you to it. If we must attend an event like this, we may as well make use of the dance floor.”

Hestia Jones held respect for her parents. If not for respect and the upholding of duty, as had been assured by her parents the witch would always find of importance, this event would never have been part of her schedule. “I’m honestly a little glad ours doesn’t have to be this big.” Overdone. The word she was looking for was overdone, but to avoid causing a scene even to someone who may only be listening, Hestia wasn’t going to risk it. Another shrug, the witch returned her attention back to the drink Edgar had handed to her. To the last of the pureblood weddings. - @edgarebones

He could understand, and respect, that Hestia would listen to her parents and their requests. This was something he never had to worry about considering he was not of their society and grateful for that. "Soon, hopefully, they will allow us to make our own decisions." Once they married, there would be most who stood in this same grand room as them, that would look down at their marriage, casting her a disgrace. "I can agree with that." Though he'd still prefer not to interact with the witch, considering her company.

The second Hestia mentioned making note of anything that might stick out, there was a reason the two of them would work well together. "I think that is a wise idea." He handed her the drink, glancing around the room before taking a sip of his. "You will have to accompany me on the dance floor at least once tonight."

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It was as though she was walking through thick fog, on clouds so heavy that her feet would sink into the soft yet cold material without ever falling through. As though each thought lay behind a layer of something dense; she could see, but not reach through to make sense of things. Beatrice found herself nodding along with the other witch, agreeing to things she could hardly understand simply because her mind seemed to refuse to allow her to do so. The former lion was a mess, all by the hands of magic the other had laid upon her.

Every motion was as though on autopilot, as though done by hands other than her own. But she could see them. Surely these actions were her own. Beatrice could only follow along, sorting the food and setting things out without so much as a second thought given. When the mention came to Edgar, that was the first time she paused even if only in confusion. Edgar, that name was important. So perhaps Bellatrix had a point when mentioning the lack of place setting for the person that she could only recall as important. “Of course. I’m sorry. Must have slipped my mind.” How could Edgar slip her mind so easily?

The shrug in question was internal, busy hands rushing to adjust yet another place setting before the witch returned to the stove to check on things. “I do hope you like it. I’ve put effort into this.” Forgotten was the fact that the dishes in question had only been cooked to try out new recipes and to keep herself busy; to distract from the reality linked to the name the other witch had only just brought up. Bea found herself wondering why it all felt so odd. Why was she this forgetful? Surely there was a reason.

And then she remembered the cake, moving to retrieve it from the storage cupboard where it had been boxed up neatly. While she busied herself with preparing the cake she couldn’t help but wonder if tea was needed. “Would you like some tea with the cake?” The brunette finally turned around to look at the other. “Do you think Edgar does?” Beatrice didn’t want to forget the other yet again. - @bellatrix-lestrxnge

The charm worked like a dream - figuratively and literally. Vaguely, Bellatrix wondered how much true consciousness drifted through Abbott's empty head. She had felt the charm herself - there was no better way to learn a spell than to experience it fully. Her life was full of experience, indulging her senses until they spilled beyond capacity, hyper-acute and trembling with implosive ardour. She had felt every spell in her armoury, except for Avada Kedavra. Every one of them had been cast upon her by a mentor, the most precious of all, by the Dark Lord himself. The suffering he could cause was exquisite. The relief that came afterwards, divine.

She followed, getting a good look at the surroundings and finding them repugnant. How people could live in such tiny quarters, she had no idea. They were like mice in holes, scurrying around with so little purpose to their fault-ridden lives. Her eyes roamed photos, noting the occupants. They hovered shrewdly over objects that looked out of place, their important clearly of some value to Beatrice. It didn't matter what value precisely, merely that she had chosen to display them.

"Mm! It smells delicious, darling, and I never say 'no' to cake." Trailing a finger over the back of a chair, she examined it for dirt then called out. "I simply couldn't refuse your invitation! I would love to join you. But, my dear-" Pulling out the chair, she sat down as though she owned the place, gesturing to the two spaces laid so far. "We're short one place setting. You haven't forgotten about Edgar, have you? He should be with us shortly." One could only hope not too soon. She'd like some alone time with her 'old friend', first. Extending a hand, she leaned forward, patting the table and indicating for Beatrice to sit.

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For a while she busied herself with her butterbeer, nodding along to what the other was saying. No doubt, Gideon was one of the people to observe far more than most. Whether it was the times or simply part of who he was, the witch wasn’t going to judge the reason behind the thing she found to be a skill rather than an oddity. “Do you now? Let’s hope when it comes down to it you really do, Gid.” It was nothing more than a playful challenge. And then her face turned into an even more challenging frown.

“Of course, I’m committed. Have you ever seen me be anything but committed? Dedicated to my work and other things. In fact, far enough that some might claim I work too hard. And too much. Opinions vary.” The former Hufflepuff gave a shrug. It ran in her blood, and she wasn’t going to fight something that had turned out to be more than helpful over the years. Her auror case rates were excellent. - @gideonscprewett

"I have eyes everywhere, Hes." He warned in a joking tone, but he was more observant than people gave him credit for. In the times they were living now, being aware of your surroundings was extremely important. "It absolutely would be. I am glad you're so committed."

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Busy schedule aside, Clara didn’t mind listening. Despite it being a conversation, she certainly hadn’t seen coming, it wasn’t all that surprising. It was the season to be married, after all. “Well, then work with that. Based on those facts alone it does sound like Alara Selwyn, hm?” Clara knew Evan well enough to have paid attention to the announcement regarding his engagement. Another thing the witch had not seen coming, in all honesty.

“If she likes baking and creativity and dancing, work with that. It’s her party, isn’t it?” With a flick she pushed her hair back over her shoulder. “Parties can be fun. I'm more familiar with the ins and outs of a quidditch pitch, but I doubt I could be wrong about this.” - @gretascatchlove

"That's really good advice. Thank you." Everyone kept telling her to focus the party on Alara's fiance instead of on her but she thought the woman's take made more sense. "Alara likes baking and being creative. She also likes going out dancing."

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Perhaps her mind was playing tricks on her. That was always an option, right? After all, the witch had been out and about in this rather doom and gloom alley, searching for what seemed to be nothing but a ghost. Only to run into yet another ghost it seemed. For weeks she’d found herself frustrated with her own incompetence and the same time utterly in refusal to bend and deny anyone else the kindness she had shown the other that day. But was it truly him? The thought sent shivers down her spine in ways that words could not even describe. Discomfort was growing and Hestia no longer wished to be near the other.

“No, thank you. I’m fine. I think it’s best I come back another day.” This felt like she was running from the nightmare right in front of her. Then again, there was always a chance that she was wrong, right? No matter what, the shivers still present seemed proof that her entire being was in shock, denying her every chance to pretend that this was simply a coincidence. Then again, was it ever? Rabastan Lestrange had, for as long as Hestia had known the other, been an individual of high intellect. If anyone could use such means to loom over another, surely it would be someone like him?

Hestia took a step back. “Should you hear from this individual, please notify me. A simple owl to the ministry will do.” While this felt like running, the former Hufflepuff was all too glad to get away. Besides, if her conclusion was to be correct, she doubted the other would be sending over any information, nor the individual behind the propaganda. It was a dead end of a whole other kind. “I suppose I’ll see you around.” And yet she did not bother to wait for an answer, forsaking politeness in order to simply get away. - @r-lestrcnge

There it was. The delicious emergence of a precious fear. It stirred his thirst for power, igniting a self-satisfied pride that swelled beneath his passive surface. If she looked close enough, she could perhaps have seen that misdirected warmth. But he kept his enthusiasm at bay. He restricted it to merely knowing, his thrill silent and invisible. Now was not the time to play upon this newly discovered control. Encouraging her panic would serve no purpose. On the contrary, it would be disadvantageous.

So he simply moved his eyes over her retreating figure, indulgently observing her alarm. He noted her expression. Revelling subtly in its open horror, he met her searching stare with eyes of cold intensity.

"I simply mean that I would not like to see this alley destroyed," he elaborated, the statement true but its purpose false. "I know that most dislike it, but it is historic and does have a charm of its own. There are many businesses and homes here." Pressing a smile to his lips, he then permitted a frown to colour his expression. He lowered his gaze to the poster now crumpled in her grip, before glancing back up again. "Are you unwell, Miss Jones? You are welcome to sit in the shop for a while, if you need a moment."

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Leta followed him as he moved about, a slight frown on her face as she thought about all the details only to be caught off guard by his commentary. “One should perhaps wonder if that is what you want, Mr Dolohov.” The Rosier-witch found amusement in his words, noting things down on parchment as she went along. “But yes, measuring, I suppose, will require you to lose at the very least that jacket of yours. Unless you wish you future duellist robe to be as bulky as it could ever be. Who knows, you may get lost in it.” The idea was admittedly less than ideal. Who’d want to have to go in search of a duellist simply because he’d found himself in another world entirely?

As she went about the measuring process, occasionally noting the numbers down on adding something to the rather primitive sketch, she couldn’t help but ponder the answers to the question he himself was posing. “I used to. Not so much lately. I suppose it is only natural one finds themselves drawn to the art of sketching things to get a feeling of how the body of an object or dress are meant to behave.” Before Leta had gotten as busy as she was now, there had been more time for such matters. Especially with the upcoming wedding season it seemed almost impossible to think of a moment for simple things as such drawing the world around her. “Perhaps I will pick it up again, if time presents itself.”

There was a care in her movements, a purpose to it all and while her mind still played with the thought of spending more time on art, another part of her was already going through the options, considering spells and charms that could alter the process and add to his protection. If he did indeed want to be a wizard to be reckoned with, someone prepared for all kinds of things, the blonde would do her very best to assure the quality of his garment to match the requirements. Nothing else would do. “Well, isn’t it a good thing then that I do, in fact, care about your opinion? You’ll be the one to wear these robes after all and I hardly think you hating them or how they feel or sit or what they provide or lack is of any benefit to either of us.” For a moment she allowed herself to look at him, perhaps even daring the hint of a softer smile to add to it. Oh, she was determined. “I’ll let you know once I’ve made some progress on these, hm?” - @xantoninxdolohovx

“Ah I guess you need to measure me, what do you need to do?”  He walked towards one of the changing rooms unsure what was required, but holding his arms at his sides. “Are these robes too obscuring.  If I didn’t know better I would think you’re trying to catch me in a state of undress Miss Rosier, not that I mind.” She had designed rooms as well as garments.  That proved what he had suspected that her mind was creative beyond the bounds of fabric and what was strictly necessary for her vocation.  He wondered at what else she might do. “You do the sketches as well.  Do you ever draw for fun or things besides just the garments that you are going to create?”  He had asked so much it was only fair that he answered some to the things she had asked.  “Most other duelists don’t think about ways to avoid being disarmed besides dodging the spell, although if the spell is strong enough or to give the spell a way to complete it is best to be holding onto something that can be shot out of the hand so that you don’t drop something that you weren’t counting on.  I’m sure you’ll learn that in time after being hit by the disarming spell enough times.  Though it is important to vary your response, possibly hide it so that your opponents don’t adapt too quickly.  A trick is just that, and might only work the first time, the mind is one of your greatest weapons and your creativity especially for you.  Knowing each tool you have or lack can be the key to defeating even a daunting opponent.” He stood with his arms and legs spread unsure where she would begin feeling slightly silly despite the necessity of it. “I’m not used to the process for bespoke garments, or at least such a skilled and gentle hand.  I assure you my family’s usual tailors were more brusque, and less worried about my opinion.”

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There was no doubt within Amycus that the duo in question would have their fun. Perhaps he’d be allowed to leave the place behind in a blaze of glory. But that was a question for later. If he were to choose, though, the answer was simple. Nothing left for the authorities to find. He did have enough control over things after all. The smirk said everything. The wizard laughed at the other’s words, slipping past him into the building. Amycus didn’t care whether they could hear him or not. It wouldn’t change anything.

“It’s more fun if they fight back. Especially if they’re weak.” To him there was a special kind of pleasure in tearing down the defences of those putting up a fight they knew they could not win. Then again, perhaps it was simply the breaking of the will. “Do you think they know we’re coming? I do love a good surprise.” There it was, the quiet danger lurking underneath a calm demeanour. - @rsrevan

The two complemented each other quite well, Amycus provided all sort of mixes that worked wonders when they had tasks like the one tonight. Evan knew he could rely on his friend to make things all the more interesting, make the final act be the cherry on top to his own devilish handling of matters. "Ah, we're certainly having a good night, mate." The wizard stated, corner of his lips turning upward, playfully, daring. "Don't think they're strong enough, but definitely fun to break their will down to shreds." He nodded his head once, quickening his step towards the entrance of the house, flicking his wand to unlock the door for them to finally get going with the fun.

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In moments like these anyone coming to her rescue was a blessing in disguise, even if that someone was a person Estelle normally would steer clear from unless there was no other way. Frank Longbottom may have been someone the witch didn’t interact with much, but at the end of the day even the wizard in question would be the perfection opportunity to get away from a vendor that clearly wouldn’t take no for an answer. With a less than friendly glare the blonde followed along. “Oh, gladly. I’d be happy to take a look.” Now, truthfully Estelle doubted there was anything to look at. In fact, so far, she’d only be summoned to the auror department twice, once two translate something regarding a goblin tomb and the other time to help with something requiring one fluent in French. Since no one else had been on hand she had been happy to volunteer. Any time spent helping would only further her goals.

Heels clicking on the pavement as she followed the auror, a polite smile on her lips as she tried to figure out if there was something he needed help with after all. “Thank you for helping me out with that one. I doubt he’d have taken no for an answer. You just saved me a lot of hassle, and time.” - @franklongbottom-fm

Frank did his best to keep track of people that may prove useful in the future, not just for work purposes but as friends or allies. Estelle's work as a translator certainly ticked the useful box. She didn't often work with the Aurors, Frank didn't even think the Aurors had a translator, but the man talking her ear off about some... contraption or other probably wouldn't know that.

"Ms. Fawley, exactly who I was looking for!" He said as he strode across the room to interrupt. "I had a few work documents that could use your expertise. They're over where I was sitting if you'd like to come take a look?"

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Rita found herself chuckling at his challenge. How many times had she proven her value simply by being in the right place at the right time? The blonde glanced back over to where the couple that had vanished had previously been browsing. “Those two seemed to enjoy rather interesting gossip regarding the ministry of magic. Apparently, the cries are getting louder that they’re not doing enough.” A shrug. It was nothing unusual that in times like these people would start to doubt or simply plant doubt if they wished for said discord to grow into something much bigger.

The witch loved the idea of sowing discord, causing chaos. For the most part she simply enjoyed the power that came with the knowledge. People so easily underestimated how much a person could hear. With nothing but a quick glance around the witch reached into her bag, pulling out a vial of a shimmery green liquid before quickly swallowing it. “I don’t need them in my ear all day long, now do I?” Always the lover of antidotes. “If these rumors are true, though, we may want to look at the ministry. Unless you aren’t feeling up for a little bit more chaos?” Her eyes met his, shining brightly with a mixture of mischief and an open invitation for him to follow along should he wish to. All she needed was his permission. - @faridxshafiq

Farid could not fault Rita, she was well trained in keeping her ears open for a good story, and the one the two of the had plotted, it was going to make a splash on the front page when the time came. He reached forward to pluck at a book from off the shelf, absentmindedly flipping through the pages. "Do tell me what interesting stories you have picked up together on your gathering in the bookshop?" Perhaps some of it could be used.

"I feel like this is where I say, make me understand." A smirk toying on his mouth.