attn party people, frank means business (franked) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2009-04-11 23:38:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | ! [1980-04] april, caradoc dearborn, frank longbottom |
Who: Caradoc and Frank
Where: The docks in London
When: Evening of Saturday the 11th
What: In which they make a sneaky scan of the area
Status: In progress!
It'd been so long since Frank was last in London proper that he'd almost forgotten how much milder it could be. Spring was always a treacherous season, but when the weather was glorious, it was glorious -- so glorious, in fact, that several of the civilians that were still wandering around the docks (sight-seeing? they weren't workers, as far as he could tell) had opted for shorts that displayed their winter complexions for all the world to see. Now, of course, the temperature would be falling, causing them to shiver and hurry off home, which Frank was particularly impatient for as he wanted the scouting done with the least amount of fuss. Not that they'd pay much attention to him -- by all appearances another civilian, blond instead of dark and surly like the face that frowned grimly out of those posters -- but the less people around, the better. Caradoc walked more freely, unconcerned about who saw him (much less who did the seeing) and turned to his "blonde" companion with a satisfied smirk. He wanted to think this was going to be easy; the shipping manifests he had so easily bribed off of the Dock Master's assistant pointed to a specific location. "One more," he said out of the corner of his mouth, striding over the boardwalk and actually walking past their dock, to stop at the one across and diagonal. Giving it a cursory study, he spoke (with the assumption that Frank would be within hearing distance). "It's almost going to be certainly indefensible - on their part - once we secure the folks who will be doing the work. We dump the cargo and let that be that." The "okay" that was muttered and automatic whenever Frank was considering how things could play out came from beside Caradoc. He'd spent the first few minutes of their survey testing for wards on the area itself: none of note -- they had managed to get in safely after all. The last thing they needed was to find anti-apparition wards, and having detected none, Frank had concealed his wand with a smile that was almost as satisfied as the one Caradoc now had. Now he was looking at the ship proper. "We'll go in groups of two or so. Try to hit everything at once. Anything coming in that's worth taking with us?" "And these are - to my best guess - not going to be Muggle sailors. We should tell our cohorts that they will need wands at the ready and once on board, should not be afraid to use them." And at that question, a brow rose with considerable interest. Perhaps he had mistook Frank for being the ultra-noble upholder of peace and justice? Did he too enjoy seeing the black and white fade to grey? "That depends," he responded, his voice smooth. "On how noble we really are." Pause. "Or on how much we want to tell Albus Dumbledore. There are some Dark Objects of surpassing note, certainly. But there's also dragon's blood, lacewing flies, useful things." A nod at the observation that their wands should be on hand, although Frank thought it unlikely that any one of them would need reminding at this point. The latter part of Caradoc's reply, however, brought a steely quality to his smile. "We need to be resourceful," he said with a single shrug of his shoulders. "If there are things that will be of use to us, then we should take them. Dark Objects--" Another shrug; once he would've been adamant about their destruction. "As long as they don't end up in their hands." "I don't care if they end up on the river bottom, unless they're valuable. Then they belong in a museum or with some collector who knows what he's got." Caradoc rubbed his palms together thoughtfully. "We're not going to be able to fight murderers fair for much longer." He pushed his hands down into his pockets and directed a brief side-long glance at Caradoc. "Are we not? And here I thought we were dangerously near our death throes." It was a dry remark, made as he looked back over his shoulder to make a quick survey of the boardwalk behind them. Then he straightened and motioned at the ship that loomed ahead. "Useful things. On this one for sure?" "Things useful enough that someone ought to take a bag with a bottomless charm on it and get to stuffing," he said wrly, motioning toward the same boat with his chin. "Well. I mean. If it were up to me. It certainly isn't. But you see what I mean." "Clearly," said Frank, grinning before he jerked his chin down in a short nod. "There's a spot at the beginning of the boardwalk back there where we can assemble without getting seen -- I'm going to give it another look-see before leaving, but other than that, I'm satisfied." |