Rodolphus Lestrange's Office, downtown London
“Here’s to one very long and rediculous task complete,” Rodolphus Lestrange stated as he refilled his glass with scotch, no ice. He then held up his small glass, where it reflected the artificial lights of his office.
“Yes...yes indeed,” Barty Crouch Jr. stated, looking a little fidgety as he poured himself a glass full from the same scotch bottle. He froze when Rodolphus shot him a flat stare, and then seemed to be able to breath again when Lestrange nodded approval. “To the end,” Barty stated, a little more enthusiastic this time as he lifted his own glass as he poured the clear liquid.
Rodolphus moved away from the table and towards the large windows that encompassed 2/3rds of his office. He stared at the Strand below, watching as early evening traffic began with civillans in their motor cars or racing for the Underground. “And I’m bloody pleased, too. No more of this nonsense with the Greek. No more marriage contracts and no more forced cheerfulness.” He then looked back slightly, his profile looking dark against the darkening sky outside. He only had the lights in the office turned on half way, creating a dim atmosphere. “And no more fucking sunflower seed shells in my socks.” He added flatly, referring to the old man’s oral fetish with chewing anything from nuts to M&Ms.
“Oh, right on...” Crouch replied as he settled down in one of the two sculpted black cushioned chairs on the visitors’ side of the desk. He held the brandy glasss (but with scotch) close to him, his elbows pressing tightly against his sides. “Least Macnair’s got to be pleased, getting rid of his cousin and all,” he stated as he sipped from the glass, as if savoring every bit of it.
“Yes...that..too..” Lestrange answered flatly and then turned towards his desk, one hand leaning down to the table top, just his fingertips touching it. “And the object made land fall this afternoon, and is now en route to Potter’s store. You know what to look for, I presume?” He didn’t bother to look at Crouch, but instead sat his glass down and riffled through some papers on his desk.
“Yea, right.” Barty said, clearing his throat as he sat foreward some. “Its in a shipment of Icelandic music boxes, flower vases, and toy trains. Supposed to be delivered withint he next 48 to 72 hours, I’m told. Potter’s only been reminding me every bloody five minutes-”
Lestrange held up a hand, as if to cut Barty off. “I’m hearing a lot of this,” and he moved his hand to mimick someone talking. “And what I want to hear is this,” and he closed his hand to cue silence. This caused Barty to close his mouth and slouch into thge chair more, nursing the drink. Rodolphus let out a small satisfied sigh to himself and picked up his drink, ready to sip it when a loud bang was heard outside of the office door. There were two voices, one of a male and one female, and the door crashed open, revealing Rodolphus’s red faced blonde secretary, looking frazzled.
The crash of the open door made Barty yelp, nearly spilling the entire contents of his drink on himself in the process. He was half risen out of the chair, one knee squashed against the arm while the other stood squarely on the floor. He looked like he was ready to bounce out of the chair like a freightened rabbit.
Lestrange gave his secretary a death-like glare, full of annoyance and hate as it ever could. She held up her hands, palms out, defensivly. “I tried to stop him, sir. but he insisted on speaking to yo-” She started to say when she was pushed out of the way by a rather sizeable box being carried by another person.
“I have every bloody right too. I have an appointment so go look it up!” Varian Avery cried out of her voice, and marched into the office. Weither he actually held an appointment or not, Avery seemed to set down his dreafful looking box on the end of Rodolphus’s desk like he owned the place. He glanced back, seeing the woman staring at them, mouth hanging open. “Oh stop being a bloody school marm, and go let Peter in!” He acted like he was going to raise a hand to slap her, but didn’t, no matter how much the lady flinched.
“P..Pet..Who?” Barty stammered, now practically folding himself up on the chair, crouching in it so his knees pressed against his chest. During the commotion, he had swung back the rest of the drink, abandoning the glass on the floor. Instead, the glass was replaced by a wand. And it was pointing at Avery.
Lestrange said nothing immediatly, and simply waved his hand in a motion to indicate for the secretary to leave them. She moved quickly to the doorway, her shaking hand moving to fix the loose bits of hair that had fallen out. As she stepped out,, she immediatly bumped into a short squat dark blondish person wearing the thickest hornned rimmed glasses she’d ever seen. She made a small gasp and then a grumpy sound, looking back at Lestrange. A small “Humpf!” followed in her throat and she moved away.
Peter Pettigrew simply cocked his head to one side and moved into the warm inner office, and looked back at her. He simply twitched his nose and pushed his glasses up with one finger onto the bridge of his nose. He didn’t bother to close the door physically, but instead pulled his own glossy wand out and made a slow horizontal slash in the air, causing the door to start to close slowly on its own accord. Catching the woman’s wide-eyed alarmed look, Peter simply brought his free hand up and wiggled his fingers like a small wave goodbye.