Marlene Lupin is plotting her revenge (on_the_wall) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2009-06-09 23:46:00 |
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There was at least some part of Conrad's dim-witted brain that told him this was a very, very bad idea. How many people had told him that he needed to just stay the hell in his own damn house? Hadn't he gotten in enough fucking trouble the last couple of days? But the problem with his house was that was where his wife was and if he was home that meant she was screeching at him about some fucking thing or another and the kid was screaming and it wasn't that Conrad had a problem with loud noises, just really fucking high pitched ones.
So when Marlene's invitation to grab a drink had appeared in his journal, he managed to resist for all of about two minutes. Right up to the point where she said the magic word. Beer. Beer that he wasn't supposed to be drinking but what the fuck? Clearly he managed to fuck shite up even when he was sober and since she wasn't supposed to be drinking with him and he wasn't supposed to be drinking with her, he figured it'd just be a secret! No one really needed to know, did they?
So Conrad was waiting for her at the pub, dressed in his typically scruffy and wrinkled attire. He'd already ordered a round of drinks and was halfway through his own beer (and fuck, he needed it!) Yes, the world and all his problems were starting to seem a hell of a lot better. God, beer was a magical, magical thing.
This was such a bad idea. Marlene knew from the first instant that the thought had crossed her mind that this was a stupid, idiotic, ridiculous, potentially deadly plan. But she was angry, and she was frustrated, and if any two emotions when stirred together created a deadlyish combination in Marlene, it was anger and frustration.
She wasn't going entirely off the radar, of course. She wasn't that much of a nincompoop. Even though she'd promised Conrad no cameras -- a promise that she intended to keep -- he hadn't said anything about not recording the conversation. Grabbing one of the unused listening devices from a drawer, Marlene flicked on the recorder side of the radio at home and transfigured the one she would be bringing with her into a necklace (as she had done the night that the dinner party at the Malfoys had gone ary). Maybe this was a stupid idea, but if she had the potential to possibly get the Order information, then what other choice did she have? No one else was suggesting anything, and she didn't want to stop now that they'd actually had a success at the Daily Prophet.
Throwing on the skankiest top she had (Conrad seemed to be a tits man, from what she'd observed...), Marlene apparated to the muggle bar they'd agreed to meet at, plopping down onto the seat next to him. "Oh good, you've already ordered," she noted, not wanting to drink anything that she hadn't specifically seen made (just in case). "Drink up, buddy."
Marlene's choice of tops definitely had the desired effect on Conrad. From the minute she walked into the pub until she sat down next to him (and then for a good bit of time after that) he was staring quite openly at her cleavage. Definitely not a bad rack, he decided. He'd seen bigger, but she definitely had a nice set of tits on her. And with that, any remaining wariness he might have had about this plan was gone. Just a couple of beers with a hot bird and no one had to know about it. Perfect!
"Hey!" he greeted her cheerfully as he finally pulled his eyes up to her face, at least for a moment. "I wasn't sure what kind of beer you liked so I went with my usual. Cheers!" he declared as he downed another gulp. "So why'd you wanna get beers with me anyway? Aren't we supposed to be on opposite sides or some shite? Quidditch fan?" That seemed to be a somewhat reasonable assumption on his part, he figured. Most of the hot birds were although he didn't get nearly as many now that quidditch had been cancelled, something he was still fucking bitter about. Both the quidditch and the girls. The idea that Marlene could have had ulterior motives couldn't have been further from his mind. She seemed too nice for shite like that! And hot. He couldn't forget that part.
Marlene was quite thankful at the moment that despite the multitude of run-ins and near-death situations she'd had with various death eaters and werewolves, she still could wear her "awesome boob shirt" and get the reaction she wanted. Not that it wasn't slightly creeping her out to have some sleezy stupid drunk fellow staring at her cleavage like she was a piece of meat, but hopefully some good would come out of it.
"I love Quidditch," Marlene replied almost immediately, her mind racing to try to place what team he'd played on. Thankfully she knew enough about the game to carry on quite a lengthy conversation about it if necissary due to her friends all being on the team back at school, and her brother nearly going pro. "But really, you just seem like a really nice guy, and all these people are giving you such a hard time lately. I don't think it's very fair to you to have to put up with all that." She was tempted to nudge his foot under the table or something to accent the use of the word "hard," but it felt too soon to try something like that and she was too loyal to do that to Remus anyway, even if he was off with his stupid skanky French Genevieve.
On the long list of Conrad's weaknesses, a pretty girl being nice, sympathetic even, was definitely at the top and his eyes widened as he nodded and took another gulp of his beer. She understood! Even if she was on the wrong side. She got how fucking unfair it was! "It is!" he agreed eagerly. "Nobody fucking understand that I'm trying! I don't mean to get in all this trouble. Shite just keeps fucking happening to me! Like those stupid stupid fucking posters." As he drained the last of his glass, he reached for the still-untouched one he'd ordered for Marlene and waved at the bartender to bring another round. Ordering beers was something he could do right at least. Although... He hesitated for a moment, frowning at his glass as he realised Marlene hadn't even touched it. Well, her loss, he decided as he took another gulp. He probably needed it more anyway.
"And people are dying and I'm getting shoved in fucking closets and I have to go to a fucking funeral tomorrow. Fuck, I just wanted to have some guys to hang out with and drink some beer, you know?"
Marlene glanced at the barkeep to make sure that the drinks were coming out of the tap and not from some secretly evil stash of poisoned beer, and felt much more at ease that everything honestly did seem legit. Good god, she was having drinks with a death eater. What the hell. She'd have to make a grab for one of the new mugs before Conrad drained that one too.
She listened to him muse, nodding sympathetically every now and again, and immediately snatched up one of the beers when the bartender brought the new ones over, drinking a little before replying. "That's awful, mate," she replied before taking another drink, biting her tongue to keep herself from spitting out that they'd lost people too, and probably more at that. "Who died?" Marlene asked, setting down the mug and leaning forward towards Conrad, wanting to make sure his reply got picked up by the listening device (and unintentionally giving him an amplified view of her chest in the process).
Conrad was quite thoroughly distracted by Marlene's cleavage moving closer to him and he stared for a long moment before realising she had asked him a question, hadn't she? Fuck. What was it? Oh yeah, who died. And ordinarily Conrad would have actually had enough sense to realise that was probably one of those questions he wasn't supposed to be answering but there were boobs and beers and on top of that he still could not shake the feeling that Ben's death had in some way been his fault which certainly wasn't helping matters.
"Ben," he replied, scowling as he drank more. "And he was my friend too. Well he was kind of an arse to me, but we were dormmates at Hogwarts. And it's all my fault he's dead too! Because I fucked shite up yet again. I can't do anything right." Conrad was in a full-on sulk now at the reminder of what had been the start of what was probably the worst week of his life.
Ben. Ben Yaxley; he'd been one of the ones at Narcissa's party the night that Quentin Bletchley had tried to kill her who kept shooting unsubtle knowing looks at Lucius. That was a relief, she supposed -- a thought that nagged her a little with guilt, but at least this way he wouldn't be around to kill anyone else. "I'm so sorry, dear," she tried to sound as sympathetic as possible, reaching across the table to pat him lightly on the shoulder as she nudged his beer closer to him with his free hand.
"Did it happen while you were trying to rescue those girls from the Foundation Centre? That was so brave of you," she asked curiously, spinning a lock of her hair around her finger as she took another drink, reminding herself that while she needed to look like she was actually drinking and this wasn't a ploy, she needed to make sure she didn't get drunk.
Marlene was half Irish, though. She could probably drink this already-wasted fellow under the table before the night was through.
Conrad smiled slightly and gave a little nod as Marlene patted his shoulder. Despite his sulking, the touching part of the evening always managed to lift his spirits a bit and he responded by trying to slip his arm around her waist, his hand creeping down towards her arse. Well hell, maybe he'd at least get lucky from this? That'd be at least one fucking bright spot of the week. And again he was distracted from the actual questions she was asking and his smile disappeared as he scrunched his face up in a thoroughly unattractive expression. What the hell had she just asked him? Wait, she'd said something about the Foundation, right?
"Huh? Oh no, it was the fucking Prophet! And I was there! I saw the damn fire and I didn't do anything. I was so fucking worried about getting busted for breaking curfew that I ran away! What if I could have saved him? I'm not brave. I'm stupid. Stupid," he said, banging the table with his hand in frustration.
Marlene tensed up on instinct, having not expected him to touch her. She grabbed for her beer instead (trying to make the movement seem influenced by what he had done), downing quite a bit of it as she shifted in her chair, trying to adjust herself so that no matter how far down Conrad's grabby hands tried to creep, he wouldn't actually get any arse-grabbing action.
"Ohh, I'd heard about that. It's so weird to be in Diagon and not see the building there any more." Her eyes went wide and she admittedly jumped a little when he pounded his fist on the table, but made sure to keep her tone even and un-freaked out when she started speaking again. "Careful, don't hurt yourself," she patted his hand, "not that you would, I'm sure. You're not stupid. It's definitely bravery. You played Quidditch, after all. And did anyone else bother trying to save those hostage women?"
Conrad, in all of his cluelessness took Marlene's squirming as encouragement (she didn't slap him after all, didn't that mean she didn't mind?) although he had to settle for leaving his hand at her waist which wasn't nearly as exciting as her arse. Oh well, he'd live, he figured as he took another gulp of his beer.
He frowned slightly as she asked about the hostages. There was some niggling familiarity and discomfort from the question that he didn't like. Wait, hadn't she asked him about that the other night in the journals? He couldn't remember but it just didn't seem quite right. Weren't they talking about the Prophet? And quidditch? What did the birds at the Foundation have to do with anything? "There were a bunch of us, yeah," he replied, suddenly a bit wary. "Didn't work out so damn well though since they just ended up with more hostages. And I'm still missing a chunk of my fucking back!" And then the brief moment of unease was gone almost as soon as he started talking again, complaining about his own problems. "I fucking hate Pepper," he grumbled.
Now that was a topic that Marlene was perfectly happy to oblidge Conrad on. It was somewhat astounding, how universally Pepper had backed himself into a corner of getting on everyone's bad side. "Did you get that healed up?" she asked, slipping back into the sympathetic voice she'd been using earlier rather than the more pressing, curious one that she was well aware came out when she started asking questions. "He did that to your back? What a creep!" She encouraged him to drink up some more of his beer (and waved the bartender over with another round). "You should have some more of that. You deserve it, going through all that pain because of that arse."
Conrad was quite grateful for the beer and very happily took another gulp. He was vaguely aware of the fact that Marlene wasn't drinking nearly as much as he was but he just figured she was a hell of a lot tinier and was probably as drunk as he was by this point from practically chugging his drinks. "He's a fucking arse!" Conrad agreed wholeheartedly. "Did I tell you he sent me a fucking stick? He dropped me off in the middle of fucking nowhere after knocking me out - and this was after he shoved me in a damn closet - and then he owled me a stick! What the fuck was I supposed to do with that? Besides beat his fucking owl to death. Oh! And he outed me for being drunk with all that Foundation shite and I got chewed out for that too." He paused in his little tirade to take another drink when an idea (surprisingly) came to him. "Oi, wait, do you know him? Because you're all on the same side or something? Because if you see him, kick him in the fucking balls for me!"
Marlene snorted a little into her beer, hoping to god that it was just because it was funny and not because she was on her way to getting drunk. She needed to not screw up this chance at potentially getting information or developing a contact because she let herself get intoxicated too quickly. "Well, it definitely doesn't surprise me that he was trying to get you in and out of a closet," she snickered, wondering how this doof would've reacted back in the day when Pepper would make posts about buggering men that the purists would all freak out about.
"And no, he's... " she trailed off, taking another drink as she thought about how to best phrase this. Technically yes, she and Pepper were on the same side now, even if he had sold out the Order multiple times, and even though he felt the need to make snitty comments about what they were doing wrong. He'd raked her over before, though, and Marlene was a girl who had no concept of getting over grudges. "I would not trust that guy to water my plants. He acts all high and mighty and offended when no one tells him shite and then turns around and does the same damn thing."
This time it was Conrad's turn to snort as he took a drink. He liked this, the whole mutual bitching about Pepper thing and McKinnon couldn't be all bad if she hated him as much as Conrad did, could she? Smiling, he leaned back in his chair and let his hand slowly creep south on her waist. "I always knew he was a fucking poofter," Conrad declared as if he was in some way proud of this knowledge. "Even back at Hogwarts there was something queer about the fucker. And I had to sleep in the same dorm for seven years! And I wouldn't trust him to water your plants! He'd probably just piss all over them." Wait, no, that was probably himself. Given enough beer. Oh what the fuck, it didn't matter. "I hope he gets the shite kicked out of him! Oi! We should team up against him! You find him and I'll kick him in the fucking balls!"
Marlene almost spit her drink out in laughter, setting her beer down before she ended up spilling it all over herself. Oh god, she hated that it was so tempting. Hated it. "I thought that guys weren't supposed to kick other guys there! I'd been told it was against the Male Code or sommat." Of course, when it came to a life and death situation, she knew that it didn't matter, and if that's where your foot landed, you'd probably be better off (as long as you weren't the person getting kicked there, of course).
"Twat definitely deserves it," she nodded, going for the mug again. She would stop after this one. She needed to remember that this was definitely the last beer of the night. "Did you hear he got married?" Okay, she had to try to spin this back into information-getting territory. How to do that without seeming too obvious now that she could feel herself getting a little tipsy would be a challenge, though. Crap. "I guess she was in that rehab centre thing for a while there? I don't even get what was going on with that. Do you?"
"Well yeah, but I figure Pepper doesn't fucking count," Conrad replied with a shrug. "The wanker'd probably do the same damn thing to me so I say fuck the guy code!" Not that he'd ever been much of an adherent to it in the first place. Sure, in theory it was all well and good but when you're upon your broom, flying around, sometimes a bludger to the other guy's balls was the best thing you could do for your team. He didn't play for the Falmouth Falcons for nothing!
"Yeah, wasn't his wife the bird who escaped? Don't know why the fuck anyone'd marry him. Or go back to him! Not that being around Travers all the time wouldn't fucking suck too. Still think I'd take him over Pepper though. Maybe." Hmmm that was a difficult question, actually, and Conrad decided to consider it over another gulp of beer. "Nah, Pepper's definitely still worse," he finally declared. "Don't know much about the rehab centre though. It's Travers's thing but they're pretty fucking tight lipped about it. Guess he just goes to the old guys about shite. Figure it's probably over my fucking head anyway!"
So at least she had confirmation from someone on their side that the Rehabilitation Centre was something that required escape. Marlene was beginning to get slightly frustrated by the fact that Conrad wasn't telling her anything, but it didn't seem to be of any fault of his. If they didn't tell him much -- and she was beginning to realise why they didn't -- then he couldn't really help that he wasn't spilling the Death Eater's innermost secrets. She couldn't expect him to give up information that he didn't have, and it was better that she didn't find anything out than to get inaccurate information.
"Yeah, I think it was," she nodded, drinking some more beer as she tried to think of some questions that Conrad actually would have answers to. "I think they're all just underestimating you." Marlene paused for a moment, feeling ridiculous guilty about this whole fake-flirtatious charade, especially as it was becoming more and more apparent that nothing was going to come of it. This felt awful and dirty and wrong. And then she remembered that Remus was with Genevieve, and Marlene's hand moved to Conrad's quidditch-toned forearm as she flipped her hair over her shoulder. "I bet you're the muscle then, hm? At least they'd have one thing right. Who are these old guys? Quidditch fans, I bet."
Whatever that little voice was that kept Conrad from spilling what little he did know about the Death Eaters, it seemed to have wandered off. Probably taking a piss break or something. All Conrad was paying attention to was how nice his head was feeling from all this beer and that Marlene was touching him! And doing that cute thing with her hair. He always liked when girls did that thing with their hair...
"Ha!" he barked, his hand sliding further down Marlene's back. "Those old fucks're way too uptight for quidditch. They'd never do anything fun. It's all don't drink, Warrington! Don't stare at girls tits, Warrington! What the fuck? They probably just sit around all the damn time talking about how important they are cause You-Know-Who lets them boss around the rest of us. Fucking Lestrange wants my balls, Nott's just a tight arse. MacNair's the only halfway decent one in the lot. Fuck, I only joined up with them cause I didn't have anything else to do after they cancelled fucking quidditch. Thought I'd get to hang out with the guys again, you know? Drink some beers and beat the shite out of people!"
It was pretty much all information that Marlene more than agreed with... except maybe that bit about MacNair being decent, considering that if he was one of the blokes in charge, it was doubtful that he was all that sweet of a gentleman. She couldn't help snorting at the mention of "Lestrange" and "balls" in the same sentence, especially after all the ruckus she and Sirius had caused the year before talking about how Bellatrix likely kept Rodolphus's balls up on the Living Room Mantle.
Of course, that had been before Rodolphus had murdered her family and nearly killed her, causing Marlene's opinion to change quite thoroughly. It was still an amusing bit of nostalgia for her, though.
"So why do you bother?" she asked earnestly, having never been able to figure out why in the world people who didn't get off on murder and taking orders would sign up. "They're called the Death Eaters, y'know? It kind of implies what they do in the name. And they all sound like right twats to me, bossing you around and calling you names. Are your friends more into it all, or did they just join because they missed Quidditch too?"
Conrad frowned, taking another swig of his beer. Well now that was a good fucking question, wasn't it? "It's not that I didn't fucking know what they do, it's just... well you know, I figured there'd be some fun stuff in between all the killing and beating on people. Course beating on people's pretty damn fun too. But yeah, most of the others are way more into it than me. I didn't think they'd all take it so fucking seriously. Sure, guys like Travers and Snape take everything seriously - there's two guys who need to get fucking laid - but you'd think some of them'd be up for a good time. Mulciber at least went for beers with me the other night after we captured some terrorist's family. He's not so bad..."
Wait. That was probably one of those things he wasn't supposed to say, wasn't it? Shite. Shite, shite, shite. Well now what the fuck was he supposed to do? He could always obliviate her? Not that he knew how, but it couldn't be that hard, right? Or he could just kill her, but well... he kinda liked her! She was flirting and touching and a hell of a lot nicer than anyone else had been to him in a while! Well he had to figure something out, but maybe he could just talk to her a little longer first. It was kinda nice to be able to vent to someone and if she wasn't going to remember any of it anyway...
Had Marlene not been well on her way to drunkenness, she probably would have picked up on the slight way that Conrad's tone had changed, or the way that he'd trailed off into his thoughts after he'd given her a heck of a lot of information. She wanted to think that he was simply thinking of more things that he could tell her. That would have been too lucky. In some fuzzy part of her brain, Marlene was aware that she was letting her defenses down and she needed to not do that, because even if Conrad seemed to be the most harmless Death Eater she'd ever come in contact with, he was still a Death Eater, and one who was a hell of a lot bigger than her.
"Ugh, seriously. That whole lot is a bunch of prudes. 'Oh goodness, how improper; how vulgar,'" Marlene mocked them all using the high pitched, hoity-toity voice she usually associated with Narcissa Malfoy. "I don't want to think about either of them having sex anyway. Travers probably wouldn't even know what's supposed to go where." She had to actually think about keeping her mouth shut in regards to Snape's sex life -- drunk or not, it still grossed her out to remember that Agnes had gone to the point of no return with The Nose. "I doubt Mulciber'd know either, to be frank, but yeah, I can see him being a drinker. You guys just go out nabbing people for kicks, then?"
"I know!" Conrad agreed excitedly. Thank fucking god someone agreed. And now that he was going to obliviate (or something) her anyway, it seemed like the one chance he had to actually tell someone what he really thought about all this bullshite. "And you wouldn't think they'd be. I mean they're all about going out and getting all bloodied up and shite, so what the fuck's the problem with sex? Oh sure, the killing curse's all good, or snapping some kid's neck, but don't look at a girl's tits! That's not proper! I don't fucking get it. I figured guys who're all about getting all violent and shite would be like my old teammates and we'd all get drunk at some pub after missions, pick up some birds and take 'em home!" No, the Death Eaters were definitely not what Conrad had expected when he'd joined up. He probably should have figured as much since he'd known some of them since they were kids but he figured they'd lightened up after Hogwarts!
"And I don't think we're allowed to do anything for kicks. It's all following orders, all the damn time. One of the old guys - Avery, I think. The boring one. He sent us out after these Muggles cause their kid's one of the terrorists with the hostages. I think. I don't understand half the shite he says anyway. Just that we were supposed to go out and capture a bunch of their families and shite. I think we got a bunch of them though! Not that it's done us a hell of a lot of good."
The grin on Marlene's face was growing wider and wider as Conrad spoke. Finally, finally. This was going to work fantastically. They had an inside view of someone who officially was reporting that even the death eaters themselves weren't entirely happy with the way that things were done. She hid her smile by moving her mug of beer up to her mouth to take yet another sip, noting that this glass had gone much faster than the last. Oh dear.
"Holy crap," Marlene whispered under her breath as Conrad finished, having not been aware that the Death Eaters had taken anyone except for Moody's mother. "Do you know who you ended up taking? Or if they're going to be returned once the women are let go?"
"Madleys? Maybe?" he replied, scratching his head and then shrugging and finishing the last of his glass. Oh hey, and the waiter had already brought them another round! Good man! "Dunno, we all just got assigned people. Mulciber and Ferdinand must've taken care of the other ones of ours though. They just grabbed me for the Muggles. Like I couldn't handle the actual wizards! I could've though! I did just fine with that girl I tackled!" Never mind that she was a teenager, a Muggle and still managed to poke him in the sodding eye. Marlene didn't need to know that part.
"I don't think they'd return them though. Not with how pissed off everyone is about this shite. I think I saw them talking about sending them off to the rehab centre so they can go learn how to be not family of terrorists or some shite." Wait, that didn't make a lot of sense, did it? Eh, he was going with it. "Let Travers fuck with their heads or whatever he does."
Madley. That was a name that Marlene hadn't run into before, but she'd have to make a note of it and find out who the person was so that she could make them aware of what had happened to their family. ...It probably wouldn't happen immediately though, as she had a feeling she wouldn't recall the specific names until after she replayed the tape of their conversation. "I bet you could've. Making you go after a little muggle girl; arms like that you could probably take out one of the Lestranges," she assured him encouragingly, letting her hand move up to tossel his hair for a moment before moving back to the beer. The beer made this okay. She knew enough to where she was sure she'd be able to stop anything before it went too far -- not even beer would make that okay -- and it wasn't anything that hadn't gone on with Genevieve and Remus when he'd been trying to get information from her.
"Well that's kind of dumb. If they give the women back, it only seems fair the families get to go home, y'know?" But that proved it -- Travers was doing something twisted to those people's heads. They might not've told Conrad what exactly, but it was still enough to prove that it was something shady. "I just hope the whole thing gets settled and everyone gets to go home."
Conrad flashed Marlene his broadest grin as she tousled his hair. He leaned on the table and propped his head up on his hand as his other, still wrapped around her waist, dragged her and her chair closer to him. She really was cute. And fun! Maybe she'd even go home with him? Pity he was going to have to kill her in the morning. Or wait... no he wasn't going to kill her, he was just going to obliviate her, right? Either way, it didn't seem to matter much right now. All he knew was the more he talked, the friendlier she got and while a smarter man would have quite easily been able to make that connection, Conrad couldn't seem to ascribe anything but the most benign of motives to Marlene.
"Yeah, but they'll need to make them pay for taking the hostages in the first place," Conrad explained. Wasn't that obvious? His brain wasn't really capable of more complicated leaps of reason, but that one seemed pretty clear to him. "You fuck with their women, they go all angry on your arse. Trust me. All these gorgeous fucking birds walking around and we're not even supposed to look at them. How the hell am I supposed to ignore it? Have you ever seen the Wilkes's girls tits?" Yet again, Conrad stopped speaking quite suddenly. This time it was not a matter of realising he had revealed Death Eater secrets but because talking about another girl's tits was definitely not the way to get the one you were drinking with into bed. "I mean... they're not as nice as yours! You've got way nicer tits. Plus the whole not having a stick up your arse thing."
Marlene had never been one to be over-sensitive about her appearance until she started getting into fights that left her body scarred up in ways that were never going to heal. Having to listen to someone else talk about how great looking those inbred bitches were was not the greatest boost to her self esteem, though, especially not when the multiple beers she'd had were making her much more sensitive than she wanted to be while trying to do spywork..
The moment of self-loathing quickly subsided after another gulp of beer and when Conrad covered his arse, sucking up to her again. "Well thank you," she slurred, setting her glass down hard on the table. "I don't have a stick up my arse, thank you very much. My arse is stick free!" she giggled like a twelve year old did at a perverted joke. "And those Wilkes clones ain't got nothin' on me; theirs're big but they're all saggy and shit and only look big cuz they're tiny and short. S'all about proportion."
Conrad laughed and rather than making another attempt at grabbing her arse, this time his hand slid up her waist, reaching around to grab the outside of her boob. Yeah, they were definitely nice tits. And since Marlene's tits were the ones in front of him and the Wilkes girls' were off in some basement somewhere, well that made that easy! "Definitely nicer," he agreed, more sincerely this time, his own words getting more and more slurred.
"That's the problem with purist girls. You can't fucking shag 'em, they've all got a bunch of fucking angry husbands and brothers ready to kick your arse if you look at 'em wrong and then they get themselves fucking captured so I have to go try and rescue their arses only to end up in a fucking closet!" That seemed vaguely familiar... Was he starting to repeat himself now? Oh, who cared, he was on a role. "All I'm saying is if you're going to ask me to rescue your arse, the least you can do is fucking put out at the end of it."
Holy shit, someone was grabbing her boob and the someone wasn't Remus. Marlene was drunk -- much much drunker than she promised herself that she would let herself get (oh god how as she going to apparate; this was bad) -- but despite the fuzzy warm feeling the alcohol was leaving her with, she still knew that this was not right. She likely would've visibly paled had the booze not been keeping her cheeks bright pink. "Hahaha, thank you," she grinned instead, reaching forward to grab her drink (and knock Conrad's hand away on "accident" -- he'd felt more than enough), practically chugging half the damn thing in one go.
"Yeah, I know, right? They're all just a big lot of sissies and whiners if y'ask me, I say," she agreed, because agreeing was easier than not, and it got Conrad to keep talking about things that could help the Order. Not that she herself had any intent of ever sleeping with someone just because they rescued her (unless the rescuer in question was her husband). "They should try'n rescue their own damn selves then. Bet they didn't even try at all; prolly just sat there and waited for their men to come get'um. That's bullshite, that is. I say be independent and do what you want; I don't need some guy runnin' in to rescue me." Except for the times when Marlene had, but the rest of her beer made that fun little thought of hypocrisy float away to the back of her mind. "I say you go rogue. Show'um who's boss. You're not their monkey; you don't have t'dance for them."
Conrad oddly didn't mind so much that he'd lost his grip on Marlene's boob, not if it meant she was chugging beer like that and damn that was really pretty fucking impressive for a girl. Fuck sides, he liked this girl! His hand settled back onto Marlene's waist and he clumsily tried to pull her closer again, practically onto his lap, although he wasn't feeling that coordinated at the moment thanks to all the beer.
"Ha! That's the fucking problem!" he declared quite loudly, although his words probably wouldn't have made a whole lot of sense to anyone listening in with the way they were running together. "Probably would've quit if I could once I figured what it's really like, but they'd fucking kill me for it. Can't fucking quit this shite. Just got to do what the fuck I'm told or they'll beat the shite out of me. They can't even demote me, just yell a whole lot. 'Sides, where the fuck'd I go anyway? And I do like some of the guys, just not the bossy old fucks."
Lack of coordination or not, Conrad's efforts worked, and Marlene went sliding across the seat until she was right up next to him, practically falling over on top of him from the unexpected sudden movement. "Whoopsie, hahaa," she laughed, reaching over to the other side of the bench across Conrad's lap to push herself back up into a sitting position, trying to avert her eyes from looking at the man's crotch. Awkward awkward awkward. That was somewhere she definitely did not want to go. "You really are strong, wow, haha. And I'm literally tipsy, HA."
It was starting to get late though, and as much as she was telling herself that she wanted another drink, she knew she had to wrap things up before she was too drunk to get back. "That sucks, you'd think like... if people didn't wanna be there, they wouldn't want'um to be there, y'know? That's not gonna help things. What'd you mean, demote though? S'not a job, it's jus'a buncha blokes power trippin'n killin' people. You should be playin' quidditch, not takin' some old farts' crap."
Conrad grinned and laughed as Marlene fell across his lap. "Quidditch beater, y'know?" he declared. Playing something that seemed to pass for gentlemanly behaviour in his head, he helped pick Marlene back up, propping her against his side. In Conrad's mind, this was a date that was going quite well indeed! Oh sure, some might suggest that when a woman was literally fall down drunk that wasn't a good thing but for Conrad it tended to be when he was most likely to get lucky.
"Yeah, doesn't fucking work like that. Somethin' about loyalty and oaths and fuck if I know. We're all ranked and tiered and I don't know how the fuck it works, just that I've got to take orders from everyone over me which means... well pretty much fucking everyone."
Marlene was only mildly aware that he'd helped her sit up. Conrad sounded like he was talking really quietly from really far away even though she was closer to him now that she had been the entire night, and she hoped that the listening device was doing a better job of catching what he was saying that she was, as most of it was flying in one ear and out the other. "Mmmhmm," she nodded, leaning against his shoulder, trying just to keep her eyes open. Oh god everything was going in slow motion and her head and her arms felt so heavy. "That does suck. Buncha crazy old fuckers thinkin' they're in charge of the world just they're pureblood. Doesn't give'm the right to kill people," she mumbled, her words all running together, not quite sure of what she was saying.
A few moments (maybe even a few minutes?) later, Marlene realised she'd been staring at the same spot on the table for quite a while. She was wasted, and that was so not good. Almost on reflex, her hand moved towards her empty glass as a way to keep herself moving, even though her head was telling her to stop drinking. Realising it was drained (thankfully), she set the mug back down and drummed a few offbeat notes on the rim of the table before finally trying to push herself up off of Conrad's side. "Ooookay," she said, wrinkling her nose and squirming under the arm he had around her in attempts to sit up straight. "I thiiink I have to go home now."
Conrad flashed a broad grin as Marlene started talking about going home. Of course in his mind that was because she was going home with him, not back to her own place. Or well, not home since his wife put up with a lot of shite but drew the line at him bringing birds home, but he was sure they could find some place! Even as Marlene squirmed next to him, he kept his arm around her, although he did try to help her sit up a bit more in what he thought might have passed for a gentlemanly gesture, although really it was just an excuse to grab her waist from the other side with one large hand nestled under her boob.
"We can grab a room at the Leaky!" he declared drunkenly, quite obviously forgetting his desire to stay out of wizarding areas for his "date" with a known Order member. The prospect of getting laid (not to mention all the beer) was definitely enough to override what little sense of reason and caution he possessed. "You shouldn't apparate anyway. Might splinch and lose a tit and that'd be a right fucking shame!"
"I..." Marlene trailed off, not even able to wrap her head around the concept of turning to look at the person she was talking to in the eye. Nope, it was all staring contest with the table for Marlene just then. The answer was no, she was going home, and not with him, but that reply seemed very far away from how heavy the alcohol was making her head and how warm she was and how much she just wanted to lie down for a bit until she sobered up.
"I don't want to lose a tit," she ended up replying, laughing a little, eyes still closed, as she moved to push Conrad's hand's away from her (and promptly faceplanted on the table). "I can't... I... you drank too, you shouldn't apparate either, y'know?" Marlene burped, patted him lightly on the side of the face, and (her elbow slipping off the table in the process) toppled onto the surface once again. She just needed to sit there for a few minutes and not drink anymore and she'd be fine. He was a Death Eater, and she didn't want to die. Going to the Leaky would definitely not be a good plan.
Conrad burst into laughter as Marlene planted her face into the table - twice - and he went to try and help her back up but instead got distracted by the bit of skin peeking out under her hair and his hand moved to rub her neck. It might have even passed for a sweet gesture if he weren't so clumsy (and maybe a bit too rough) with his hands. Oh yeah, and if they weren't both married to other people. Details. It wasn't like Conrad cared. He was drunk and in the best mood he'd been in for days and there was a pretty bird almost passed out in front of him who he was going to take home! What could be better?
"Nah, I'm fucking good at drunk apparing. Apparashing. Whatever. Wand travel. 'Sides, the Leaky's not too far from here, I can just carry you!" Now that seemed like a brilliant plan as far as Conrad was concerned. Of course while he wasn't quite as drunk as Marlene and was still managing to keep himself upright, he'd probably make it about half a block before he fell down. Or decided to take a quick nap propped up against some building, but he was running on beer wisdom now. "Only ever splinched myself once. Err... twice?"
Oh god it was tempting. It was so tempting, not because of the reasons that Conrad likely had in mind, but because all Marlene wanted to do right then was go to sleep. If she went home that would mean she'd just be waiting up for Remus to get home from being out with Genevieve, and that didn't seem like the best of prospects right then. Marlene knew she was supposed to say no. This was for the Order. She'd gotten the Order more than the amount of information she'd initially suspected that she would've, but... apparating was a lot of work, and if Conrad was good at it...
No. No. She was married, and she was happy in her marriage even if Remus was off with his French hussy. She wasn't going to let anything happen with this gross-faced Quidditch playing Death Eater just because she'd allowed herself to have wayyy too much to drink. "Those are very good statistics," she mused, wishing that her mug would magically refill itself, or that she'd magically reappear back in her house where she wouldn't have to worry about it. "I have to go home now," she repeated, trying to stand up and finding that her legs weren't cooperating. Oh god. "Look, you're very very nice, but I don't think that's such a good idea; I think... I want to go to bed," she ran out of other excuses, trying to come up with other excuses but unable to find the one that she needed at the tip of her tongue.
What persistence Conrad possessed was only amplified when he was drunk and he really didn't want to take no for an answer. Not to mention that this bird really did look like she'd get herself killed if she tried to go home on her own and while he was probably supposed to think that was a good thing considering who she was and who he was, well... fuck it, he liked her. She was nice and she'd gotten pissed with him when he needed it. But Conrad had never been very good at trying to reason with people (not possessing a whole lot of it himself) and so he went for his preferred tactic of just doing what he damn well pleased and dragging people along with him.
He pushed himself up from the table, wavering a bit on his feet himself before wrapping his arm around Marlene's waist again and pulling her back up. "Nah. Not gonna let you get yourself killed. Too hot for that," he slurred. "Come on. Beds at the Leaky are soft as hell. Trust me!" He flashed her what he thought was a charming grin but was really just a drunken, lecherous smile.
And then Marlene was up and on her feet before she could rationalize that even standing up was a bad idea. Her thoughts were mixed with Remus and alcohol and Genevieve and Conrad and none of it was making sense. She'd come here for a reason. Going home with Warrington was not that reason, but all she could think of was how far away her seat felt now that she was up and on her feet.
"I don't..." she began, glancing up at Conrad as she gripped the side of the table, wishing she could will herself to complete a damn sentence. "No. I gotta go home now," she struggled out, trying to will herself to walk straight for a few seconds before tipping over onto a neighbouring table. This was not what she had intended to happen. She'd have a few drinks, get her information, and go home. Not nearly pass out on the floor of the bar. "I... you think... I don't want to get splinched," she finally spat out, gripping the side of an empty table and wishing she could blink herself back into coherancy. Conrad was an okay guy, right? He didn't actually like what the Death Eaters were doing. It'd be fine if she just went and laid down somewhere for a few minutes, right?
Conrad, to his credit, actually did try to keep Marlene from toppling over into the table but his reflexes were dulled and as he lunged for her, he almost tripped and fell on top of her, barely managing to catch himself in time. But their little display had attracted the attention of the bartender and now he was yelling at them to get the hell out of his bar. "What the fuck d'you think we're trying to do?" Conrad barked back at the Muggle man, pulling himself up to his full height before turning back to Marlene.
Now she was coming to her senses, he thought happily. They always (or well usually) did in the end. How could anyone resist him? Who cared if it wasn't so much not being able to resist him on Marlene's part as not wanting to end up in a hundred different pieces. He knew what she really meant. "Come on," he said as he put his hands on her waist and tried to steer her towards the door, although he was doing more than his share of weaving and stumbling himself. "We'll go to the Leaky, have a good shag, sleep it off... It'll be fucking fun! Ha! Fucking fun!"
The bartender yelling at them had seemed very far away, and suddenly Conrad was very loud and very tall, and it was taking everything in Marlene to pay attention to what he was saying and not just the simple fact that he was speaking in the first place.
She let him guide her along, reaching to steady herself on the rims of tables every time they veered close enough for her to grab hold of one (and even some times that they didn't, leaving Marlene grasping for thin air), knowing somewhere deep inside herself that she needed to sober up, and she needed to sober up now. But Conrad was talking about sleeping, and that was what was at the forefront of her mind despite everything else he was blabbering about, and it was tempting to listen. "...no, just... just sleeping it off," she said quietly, stuck somewhere in a daze between screaming at herself to go home and needing to pee and possibly throw up. "I have to go home now," she tried pushing him away again, going for her wand this time to help herself apparate as they neared the bar's exit. "Thank you for drinks and everything Mr. Conrad but it's time for bed, sir," Marlene babbled.
Well... yeah. That was what he kept saying, wasn't it? It was time for bed! He wasn't going to shag her up against the wall of the bar or anything like that. He did have some sense of decency! Okay, no he really didn't, but shagging while standing seemed like a hell of a lot of work at the moment. Especially since this time as she tried to push away from him, he was caught off guard and stumbled back. He threw his arms out, blindly trying to grab onto something to keep himself from falling but all he managed was to catch Marlene's wrist in his hand before falling hard on his arse.
"Ooof! Fuck!" he swore. That was going to fucking hurt in the morning, he was sure of it. Although at the moment he couldn't feel a damn thing and it wasn't long before he was laughing. "I just fell on my arse!" he declared as if there might have somehow been some question about what had just happened. "Now you've got to go to bed with me!" It made perfect sense. Really.
Marlene's eyes went wide as she found herself pulled down with Conrad, on top of Conrad as he went tumbling drunkly to the ground, torn between panic and amusement and not knowing what the hell was going on. Once she was done falling with him -- it felt like time was moving in slow motion while it was happening and it made Marlene sick to her stomach -- she rolled off Conrad and tried to climb up to her feet, offering him a hand so that he himself could get up.
"Are you alright?" she asked him earnestly, although a hint of laughter crept up at the end of her question once Conrad declared the obvious, stating to the world that he'd just taken an arse-dive into the ground. Once she was over the moment, Marlene's torn confusion over what was going on set back in. "And I can't, not like... I mean..." she frowned, trying to get words to form the way that she wanted them to. "I guess. Just to lay down til I can apparate back to my place, alright?," she stated firmly, crossing her arms in hopes that showed that she meant business. Because she did. Even if the world still seemed to be spinning from all the alcohol she'd just drunk.
"M'fine, fine," he assured her as he gave a sloppy, drunken wave of his hand through the air, trying to wave away her concerns. "S'good. Wanted to sit anyway." Yes, the ground seemed very comfy right about now and he was starting to think that he probably could just sit there for a while but then Marlene was talking about going back to the Leaky with him after all and that was enough to bring him back to his feet. Or at least enough to get him thinking about getting back to his feet. Actual movement was much slower to come and it took a minute or two before he was pushing himself up.
"Yeah? Okay, just sleeping," he agreed once he was actually standing again. Of course despite what he said, he was firmly convinced that once he'd managed to get her into bed, she'd end up shagging him after all. But getting her in bed was definitely the first step and Conrad was definitely not above lying his arse off to manage that. Which might have been more convincing if he hadn't promptly forgotten that he was supposed to be lying. "You won't regret it! I'm fucking brilliant at..." Oh hell. "Sleeping?" he finished, clumsily trying to cover his slip. Right, time to just apparate to the Leaky before he managed to somehow fuck this up, he decided as he pulled his wand.
What the fuck was a brilliant sleeper? Marlene furrowed her eyebrows, watching Conrad and trying to piece together what he was saying and attempting to take the momentary buzzkill for what it was and allow it to sober her up. This had been an awful, terrible idea. "I'm sure you are," she nodded, her own hand wrapping around her wand as she backed out the door of the pub, the night air hitting her with a chill she hadn't expected now that the warmth of her drunken stupor was beginning to wear off.
"You know..." she started, hoping that her voice didn't sound like it was shaking as much as she could feel it, "I think I'm actually good to apparate! And you seem tired; you should go home and rest up," she nodded, walking backwards as she moved away, keeping her hand trained on her wand and praying it wouldn't be necessary in the muggle territory the two were in.
Wait. Why was she moving away from him? What'd happened? She was going to go back to the Leaky with him and now she was backing away from him like... like... like he was a Death Eater. Oh. Conrad looked down at his wand and his eyes widened in realisation before he quickly tucked it back into his trousers. He held up his hands and followed her out of the pub, moving slowly like he was trying to approach a wild and scared animal. Well at least he had some practice at that from work. And from picking up birds at pubs, if he was being honest.
"Not gonna hurt you! Promise!" he declared quite sincerely. "You wanna get us there instead?" That probably wasn't the best of plans since she could easily apparate him off to Salazar knew where, or more likely splinch them both. But Conrad most certainly was not thinking with his head at the moment. At least not the big one on his shoulders.
Marlene bit down hard on her lower lip as she tried to think, her eyes scanning between Conrad and where his wand was pocketed and where her own was stored, trying to figure out what in the world to do within her alcohol-addled mind. She had no reason to trust him. He was a death eater, and she continued to tell herself that as she ahd been all night, even though it wasn't working. She moved closer to him, knowing she had no business trying to apparate herself (let alone another living person, death eater or not), and grabbed on to his wand arm, telling herself that if he tried anything funny, this way she would have a heads up and her own wand arm would be free to retaliate.
"You... alright, you can get us there," she replied, her voice barely audible as she focused all her concentration on being able to whip her wand out at a moment's need. Marlene couldn't believe she was doing this. She had all the information she needed, but there was always the chance that maybe he'd say something more, or even that she actuallly WOULD splinch herself if she tried to apparate. ...And there was always the chance that Conrad would apparate her directly to the Lestrange's house, or something else awful and deadly, but she was still too intoxicated to contemplate those concequences.
Much better! Conrad's big, dopey grin returned as Marlene grabbed his arm, despite the fact that she was clearly very reluctant about all of this. All Conrad heard was her agreeing and he didn't bother to notice her... lack of enthusiasm. He made up for it in spades.
Of course Conrad probably didn't have much business trying to apparate at this point either, but he really was pretty good at managing even while drunk off his arse. He couldn't manage to duel to save his fucking life but getting his drunk arse home was something he was well practiced at. And the thought of taking her to the Lestranges or the Ministry or any one of the places he should have taken her didn't even occur to him. He really didn't want to hurt her! And well, if he'd shown up at the Lestrange house like this even with Marlene on his arm, he'd probably get killed or at least gotten the shite kicked out of him. No, the Leaky and it's soft, comfy beds seemed like a much better plan. Conrad screwed up his face in concentration as he tried to focus on where they were going and it took a minute or two but finally he flicked his wand, apparating them (successfully! as far as he could tell...) to the pub. "I'll get us a room!" he declared gallantly as he tugged Marlene towards the bar. The temptation of another pint or two was just about the only thing that threatened to distract him from his mission of Getting Marlene In Bed but he held out and set to getting them a room instead. This was going to be brilliant.
Marlene had squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the moment of ungodly pain when she discovered that her arm or part of her leg had been left behind at the pub. None of that seemed to happen, however; the two made it to the Leaky Cauldron without any blood or pain involved, and Marlene watched as Conrad abandoned her and moved to get them a room. She was fine, now. She could leave and rest easy knowing that Conrad at least had made it to the hotel and would be able to pass out and not potentially kill anyone else.
But she didn't move, as moving required apparating and that required skill that she didn't believe she had at the moment, having lost that somewhere between her third and seventh drink. It was hard to recall the details. "All set?" she asked, exhaustion catching back up to her very quickly now that her earlier moment of panic had subsided, pushed away by fatigue and the remnants of a night filled with too many beers as she waited for the exchange of money for room keys to happen.
"Set!" Conrad declared, still grinning as he dangled the key in the air before wrapping his arm around Marlene's shoulder, his fingers creeping towards her boob as he led her up the stairs. "You'll thank me in the morning!" And not just for not letting her splinch herself but now that she'd seemed to calm down, he was determined not to scare her off again. Really. Which meant no wands, no talking about how great he was in bed, no talking about being a Death Eater... Oh fuck if he could remember it all. Better to just focus more generally on Not Screwing This Up.
When they reached their room, Conrad unlocked the door and released his grip on Marlene to hold the door open for her, making some vague attempt at being a gentleman. Whatever effect there might have been from the gesture was quickly ruined as he ran his eyes up and down her body, quite openly staring. Or... leering really. She was a damn hot bird (and nice!) and Conrad couldn't quite believe his luck. Maybe he ought to go drinking with terrorists more often? That didn't sound quite right... Oh well. Tossing the key to the room on the desk, he pulled off his shirt and tossed it to the floor before starting to undo his trousers.
Whoa whoa whoa holy shit no. There was wayyyy too much nudity going on for Marlene. She'd been fine as he lead her up to the room, believing somehow that what they (or she) had planned to happen was what was going to fly -- she'd lay down for a bit and go home, and he could have the room so that he wouldn't get his arse kicked for showing up on more anti-drinking posters. Him leering had been lost on her in the midst of the promise of somewhere to lay down, and that had been all that was on Marlene's mind as Conrad had manouvered the two up to the room.
But then his pants started coming off and all of that changed. "Wait wait wait wait no hold up what are you doing?" she spluttered all in one breath, practically squeaking, frowning as she leaned against the foot of the bed, staring at Conrad as though he had lost his mind (and as if she was totally in the right frame of her own). The gentlemanly guise had disappeared along with his shirt. "Keep your pants on, holy shit."
Conrad froze, halfway through undoing his zipper and stared blankly at Marlene, blinking in confusion. He made for a thoroughly absurd sight standing there with his hands over his crotch and with a face that was somewhere between that of a scolded puppy and a very, very dumb and drunk man. Both of which were really pretty accurate assessments at the moment. "Wha...?" he asked, utterly baffled. Why the fuck was she freaking out? He was just taking his trousers off for fuck's sake! Was she really not going to sleep with him? After he'd gotten them this room and everything? And if she wasn't going to sleep with him, did she really expect him to sleep in his trousers? That wasn't going to be very comfy.
"But... I sleep naked?"
Not with her in the room, he didn't. Marlene was having a difficult time peeling her eyes away from the unabashed stare of horror she'd been giving Conrad, her face completely betraying any sort of ploy or act she'd been trying to put on for the sake of getting information. This wasn't worth it. This was too far and too much and she needed to go home. "I need to go home now," she repeated what was obvious out loud, not wanting to take her eyes off of Conrad just in case but terrified that he'd decide to drop his pants completely anyway. Was this why he'd insisted on no cameras? Good god. He could go ahead and "sleep naked" for all she cared once she was gone. Marlene had no intention of sticking around any longer than she already had, stumbling toward the door of the room. She could wait downstairs to sober up enough to apparate home.
Well now that was a dilemma... The hot bird was trying to bolt but he really did hate sleeping in his trousers... Oh who the fuck was he kidding. The hot bird was clearly going to win out. Always. Conrad quickly redid his trousers and moved to block Marlene's exit, holding his hands up in a peace offering. "Oi! Fine, no naked! Promise! Come on, let's just go to bed. I'll keep my trousers on. Really!" He reached out to put a hand on Marlene's shoulder although he wasn't really sure why it mattered if she stayed if she wasn't going to shag him. Well maybe she'd change her mind? Maybe she was one of those types who rolled over and shagged in their sleep! Or morning sex. Morning sex was always good. It was definitely worth trying to find out! But if she left, well then he definitely wasn't getting laid and a slight chance of getting some was better than that, right?
What Conrad seemed to fail to understand was that he was not getting laid by Marlene no matter what time of night (or morning) it was. She swallowed hard, glancing between Conrad and the door and Conrad and the bed and trying to figure out how to get him out of the way so that she could get out of the room. She flinched on instinct when he touched her shoulder, even if it had been part of his attempt at being nice, the scars there still sore from what Tabitha Pryce had done to her the previous month. While working with the Death Eaters. And this guy was a Death Eater.
"No, it's..." she trailed off again, wondering why she was even bothering with the small talk and not blasting the guy out of her way. A bunch of excuses were on the tip of her tongue: he was creepy, she was married, his face... but she was at a loss of words, which was something that had always made Marlene extremely uncomfortable. "This was nice. Have a good night," she said instead, maneuvering around him for the doorknob.
There was a part of Conrad that was very tempted to keep blocking the door. To take another step back and keep Marlene from leaving the room until she came to her senses and realised that sleeping with him wasn't going to be anything but a damn good time. But he did have some shred of decency buried deep in his head that chimed in to remind him that she was a nice girl and apparently scared shitless. Nah, he didn't really have it in him to keep her there by force.
"Yeah, sorry. Didn't mean to scare you," he mumbled, hanging his head as he stepped out of the way. It was hard to tell if he was more dejected because she wasn't going to sleep with him after all or because he'd upset her. "But... maybe we could do this again sometime?" he asked hopefully.
Oh thank Merlin. She let her grip on her wand ease up now that she was pretty sure that there would be no need for drunken dueling. Marlene wasn't sure if it was possible for her to be more relieved. Perhaps if she'd been less drunk, and if the fact that she was still drunk was actually causing a slight bit of guilt to nag at her. Another part of her recognised that feeling guilty about him letting her go home was ridiculous. What the hell was this, drunken Stolkholm Syndrome? Even if he was acting like a damn kicked puppy and apologising now for being a creep, he'd still been a creep in the first place.
She mumbled something along the lines of "it's alright," even though it wasn't, and opened the door so that she was standing half inside the room and half outside, just in case. Maybe they could do the drinking side of things again sometime. He'd been a good source of information -- she didn't remember what the information was that he'd given her just then, but she remembered thinking that it was going to be helpful -- and she didn't want to write off what could potentially be a useful contact. Even if he needed to be wasted before he was useful. "I think maybe we could," Marlene replied, even though any "next times" that would happen were also going to involve her bringing along people who would smite the guy if he tried grabbing her boobs again.