rp log; evan & npc Who: Evan Rosier & Linus Swothsby (played by mah loverly Jess). Where: Magical Menagerie. What: A deal is struck. Also, a parrot is bought. When: 13 February 1979 Status: Complete, logged Rating: G Note: My Spanish is a little rusty so, when Evan speaks, don't laugh! Nevertheless his line to the Macaw is supposed to read: Does your shop keeper want to die?
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Linus Swothsby was not a man whom you would believe thought of anything but puppies and kittens and other soft, furry animals -- along with the other ones (snakes and other assorted creatures). He loved animals, and generally kept an assortment on his person. And when anyone -- young, old, boy, or girl -- walked into his shop and he was on duty, he never, ever failed to meet them with a large, cheery grin on his large, cheery face and a gripping handshake or pat on the back. Linus Swothsby was cheerful, and he was always willing to dispense advice about an animal or help to pick out a new pet. An elderly woman stood at his left elbow, softly bemoaning the state of her krup; he listened patiently and then handed her a bag of herbs that he was certain would help her poor little Brutus get well again, and turned at the sound of the little bell ringing over his door.
... and in walked Evan, smiling toward the shop-keeper as he slid around a display of hissing kneazles. There were animals that tickled his fancy even if he wasn't particularly fond of them generally but the large number in the relatively small space made his skin just crawl. He pressed his lips into a thin line and stood beak to nose with a Macaw. If he was going to speak to this shop-keeper on the Dark Lord's behalf, he was certainly going to have to show interest in something terribly expensive.
Linus sent old Miss Kingston off with her purchase, and approached this new customer. A newcomer; he certainly didn't seem to be entirely comfortable. Perhaps it was the animals. Some people couldn't abide them. Pity, that. "Ah, I see that you've taken an interest in Oscar. He's a relatively recent addition to the Menagerie, only been here a few months. He's quite smart. He's picked up quite a few words since he got here. Some of them were courtesy of children visiting, naturally." His smile widened and he offered his hand to the young man beside him.
"¿Su encargado de la tienda desea morir?" he asked the bird softly and smiled when it clicked its beak and ruffed itls feathers at him. He turned to this Linus Swothsby with a raised shoulder. "You must forgive me, Mr Swothsby," he said, reading off of the man's nametag. "Oscar is the first native I've met since coming to England."
Linus nodded slightly, more than slightly put off by the nagging feeling that his guest was making fun somehow. He let his hand fall once more to his side. "No, not at all, sir. I'm sure you must be rather lonely. Where, exactly, are you from? Certainly a place with many birds, if you are so comfortable speaking so fluently with them." He straightened to his full height. "How may I help you?"
"Macaws are indigenous to Central and South America, if I remember correctly?" His smile was placating as he put his hand up instead, taking a step toward the shop keeper. "Birds that are trapped by ingenuous designs and sent to live their long lives in cages or on pedestals to chatter at children and old women."
Linus spread his hands wide, helplessly. "Alas, I can only sell what I am sent. Birds like Oscar tend to be popular." He tilted his head apologetically at the bird and with real affection. Reaching into an inner pocket, he withdrew a treat for the bird from his robes. "He keeps me company in the evenings when the store is closed and I clean, anyhow." He nodded once, sharply. This man hadn't come to ask about pets. "Perhaps you'd like to discuss our friend the Macaw in a more comfortable location?"
"I do not suppose that you would be willing to part from such a special friend, then, if he keeps you company ..." Linus's suggestion was perfect. He pursed his lips and crossed his arms over his chest. "Perhaps you have an office?"
"I run a business, Mister...?" The rest of the shop was empty and his assistant had left for the day. Crossing to the door of the shop, he locked it with a tap of his wand and turned the sign to read 'closed'. "Beyond the counter, please, and through the door. If you proceed through that room you'll find another. Please have a seat there." He left a few various treats out for animals, and then found his way to his office himself. Sitting behind the desk, he contemplated Evan. "You have my attention."
"Rosier ... " Evan followed Swothsby's instructions, seating himself most comfortably in a chair opposite the shop keeper. He laid his wand in his lap and regarded the man with a sly nod. "You're intelligent, I can see that. To be a businessman, to make profit you must learn how to market your product, even when there are mutts a dime a dozen roaming the streets." He paused, much amused with himself. "I bear a message for you from a man who only asks your allegiance. In turn, you will be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams."
"Do tell..." Linus's interest was very much perked. He steepled his hands and concentrated even more on Rosier. He merely wondered what sort of allegiance was being asked for him. The messenger boy didn't seem to have come to him by force; it was nearly a pleasure for him, Linus would guess.
The smile, the very pleasure of acting on Voldemort's behalf, was palpable. All of his gleaming teeth were visible as he settled back into the cushions and took a deep breath. "Stop serving the Mudblood filth."
This Rosier was blunt. Linus approved. There was none of this dallying around that so often accompanied Ministry personnel. Casually, he waved his hand. "All right," he shrugged. "And how will I tell, sir? They rarely wear a sign proclaiming their birth." But oh, how sweet it would be to know that the air he breathed within his own shop was not tainted by those with less than desirable blood. The prospect was a good one.
"An intelligent man such as yourself can tell when a person knows their way around a Magical shop," he said softly, stroking the arm of his chair. "It's not that hard to recognise their bumbling attempts at assimilation."
Linus remained silent, looking above and beyond Evan's right shoulder. He thought of the implications of what he had agreed, but with his next words he would make it real. The loss of profit would be minimal. So many would not even notice and by the time they did it would be too late. He and so many others offered services that were necessary for the running of the world. "You are right. Naturally such filth should not be served at all. I shall start immediately."
"A sign in your window would do the trick, rather nicely." His lips pursed. This was too easy. "Surely, Mr Swothsby, you should know that I will be watching you most carefully. "
"Of course, Mr Rosier. You will, naturally, be welcome here whenever you wish." The shop would be closed for an hour or so as he fashioned this sign. "And, sir, if there is anything else that is ever needed... do not hesitate to ask my services."
Victory. "I'm glad that we see eye to eye, Mr Swothsby. And you realise that should you mention myself or this conversation to anyone, our deal is null and your life is forfeit." He stood, pulling a wallet from the breast pocket of his coat. "I'd like to buy the parrot."
"Of course." Linus rose with Evan. He named the price of the bird, and not a knut over. "Excellent choice, Mr Rosier, excellent. Shall I provide a bag of treats for him? Free of charge, naturally." But even as he mouthed his words by rote, he couldn't help but wonder just what it was he had got himself into. It was the right choice, but it was a terrible, fearful one.
"It is a pleasure doing business with you, Swothby," he replies. "Your swift compliance is noted and should be, I think, duly rewarded." Producing twenty percent more than the named price, he lays the cash on Swothby's desk and nods. "Oscar and I will make our way out, ourselves. Please do not trouble yourself any further."
Eyebrow arched, Linus watched as Evan left his office and sat when he heard the door at the counter flap. He had many things to consider, and the pile of gold on the desk before him is just one of them. Snorting softly, he turns to pull out a piece of parchment and quill, the easier to dismiss the younger of his shop attendants. He'd hired the young mudblood woman only because she was so damned persistent and he needed the help. But others would come along who needed the position. They always did.
As Evan quitted the gentleman, he congratulated himself on a job well done and spoke in soft Spanish as the Macaw flitted to his shoulder and preened its feathers. "You need a new name, Oscar," he murmured, tucking one bag of parrot treats under his arm as he let the bell above the shop jingle. His victory would endear him to Lord Voldemort. He would rise through the ranks of his compatriots and enjoy a place higher than his father's. This was part of the first step and he found himself enjoying every moment of it.