#culturewars (![]() ![]() @ 2016-12-30 16:55:00 |
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Entry tags: | !! event: #mommeltdown2, dedalus diggle, imogen crabbe, mundungus fletcher |
Dressed in her Johna-iest outfit (no color, nicely fitted, formal and even a bit severe), Dedalus tried to channel her cousin's no-nonsense approach to the world as she dropped the stolen hair into the potion in front of her. The polyjuice hissed and settled into a new, neutral colour that looked drinkable enough, she supposed. She barely tasted it in her hurry to get going. She looked around as the others did the same. She glanced over at the newly-ginger man and was startled by the likeness. He wasn't someone she wanted to see up-close ever again, if she could help it, and though she knew it wasn't really Finn beside her, she could not help but scowl at him. “Bloody gingers taste like shite,” ‘Finn’ commented as he wrinkled his nose in disgust and made a gagging motion. “Actually, mayhaps don’t tell Jenny I said that. She don’t taste like shite.” ‘Finn’ gave a shit-eating grin. Other than looking physically looking like a turncoat auror, Dung had dressed in something presentable although he figured the robes they’d had taken for them would cover up many odd fashion choices. “Good on the scowl, though, was worried ye’d look too happy or sommat.” Dedalus smiled at the compliment, then realized what she'd done and put on a more exaggerated scowl. Maybe being Johna wouldn't be so hard after all. "Well," she said, "You've got to work on sounding a bit more Scots. And also being obnoxiously healthy. And also also being the worst." “Aye, lookit me, I’m Finn Williamson and I jack-off ta Dark Arts textbooks.” Dung paused and looked Dedalus over again. “Like that? Oi, err, aye. Your lips look as healthy as an all-organic milkshake. Kissable, really.” Dung had to laugh. “Naw, I can do a Scots impression if I want. It’ll be close enough for it.” "Ew," Dedalus whinged, responding to any and all of what Dung just said and not sounding particularly Dawlish as she said it. "Er. No offense! It's just … you're Finn! You look like Finn!" “Course I look like Finn,” Dung answered needlessly as he sized up some more. It wasn’t like he was overly familiar with Johna Dawlish, and Dedalus would know her best. “Anyhow, we’d best get this show on the road.” He eyed the flask he’d brought with him for a moment. Dedalus followed his glance, and her eyes widened. She grabbed for the flask, not quite wrenching it from his hand but not letting go, either. "No!" she insisted. "Absolutely not! Finn doesn't drink!" “Oi what!” Dung exclaimed more out of surprise from the movement rather than the information, but then he looked decidedly sheepish. “Cor, yer right. Forgot he was no fun anymore. Fits with his evil.” Gently taking the flask away, then, Dedalus almost considered taking a drink herself to calm nerves, but no. Johna wouldn't drink before going on shift, so neither would 'Johna.' She put the flask down on a table in the safehouse behind her and said, in her best Dawlish voice, "Let's go." "Johna Dawlish" tried to calm her jitters as she entered the Ministry, just like any other normal day that was normal. She did not smile to greet anyone, nor mutter so much as a hello to anyone going by for fear she would look too friendly or let her own Kentish accent slip through. She stayed close to "Finn Williamson" for the sake of authenticity, but did not reach out to hold his hand because they were not that kind of people. (Right? Was she overthinking this?) "Good luck," she whispered to him as they made it in through security. In contrast “Finn Williamson” seemed much more at ease with the whole situation despite the fact he was masquerading as an Auror, and one with a dark secret identity. He smiled and nodded his head or offered little waves in return to those that greeted him and “his girlfriend”. Dung was comfortable sliding into social situations: it’s how he did a lot of what he did even if he was woefully out of place. Acting confident was the key. “Calm down,” ‘Finn’ whispered. “Try to walk more Johna-like. With a stick in your ass.” 'Johna' made a face back at him, scowling again though she knew he was right. While she was watching him, however, she almost walked into someone else instead. "Hello you two, back already?" said a man she did not recognize. She froze up, staring at him. "Looks like you didn't get much sun out there, Williamson!" ‘Finn’ shot back a smug little smile at ‘Johna’s’ scowl, and then paused for a moment as the man interjected. Dedalus may have frozen, but Dung was perked up a second later. “Wish we could have stayed in Nevis, but the boss—” he glanced at ‘Johna’ “— would have had my head if we stayed late.” It all came off casually like an inside joke, and then he sucked in a breath. Of course he had no tan. The hairs were taken prior to the vacation. “Sometimes you just have to stay indoors.” 'Johna' scowled even deeper at the idea of 'staying indoors' with Finn, but the stranger didn't seem to think anything of it, so maybe Johna's face just looked that way normally after all. "Get back to work, Williamson," she barked, imagining that her cousin had no time or interest in public displays of affection and, if she was smart, gave Finn a hard time about everything she could, every time she got the chance. The arm slung around ‘Johna’s’ shoulders and he pulled her into a quick little shoulder-to-shoulder embrace. “Yes ma’am,” he offered somewhat awkwardly because that kind of speech was definitely not in Dung’s playbook. He gave the man another nod, and then ushered past him before letting his arm drop. “Alright, I’m due in the cafeteria. You going to be good from here?” This time, she did take his hand and give it a small squeeze. This was from Dedalus for Mundungus, however, not from 'Johna' to 'Finn.' "Good luck," she whispered again, fighting back nerves. "Rabbits rabbits!" There was a slight hesitation before Dung leaned in closer, squeezed the hand back, and echoed: “Rabbits, rabbits.” A breath, and then, “You got this. Knock ‘em dead. Err, not literally.” The problem with everyone quitting was that Imogen was forced to work longer hours and longer hours meant more meals at the Ministry and the Ministry food wasn’t even that good, but she snuck in anyway late Friday night hoping to grab something that would get her through the long hours left ahead of herself. Her stomach rumbled and she was deciding between a danish and a real meal when she realized she knew the person right in front of her. Who had been doing something that she wasn’t sure what it was? “Getting something to eat, Williamson?” she asked. Dung’s disguise as Auror Finley Williamson, Death-eating health-nut, had worked so far: most people hadn’t approached him, or only offered a cursory greeting that was easy to play off. He’d made his way to the cafeteria and begun applying the charms there that they’d use to stymy the advances later. That was it. ‘Finn’ turned around and nodded towards the woman he knew to be Imogen Crabbe -- another Death Eater. Things would get interesting now, but at least he wasn’t unfamiliar with her. She too was from Knockturn. “Figured I could use a snack to wash down the kale,” he quipped easily enough, and he hoped she’d either take it for a joke or serious if it was something Finn would say. Imogen raised an eyebrow. “Sure,” she said. “That sounds…fine.” She settled on and then inwardly groaned, if Williamson was there, she was going to need to be good and order something healthy. “What were you thinking?” Shit. Dung’s head spun around and turned back to the menu and tried to figure out what the most disgusting thing on the menu was. “Hadn’t decided yet,” he answered as his mind swam with the possibilities. What the hell would Finn order? “Really I’m just trying to avoid going for a smoke.” “Are you giving it up?” Imogen asked, her eyes still on the menu, trying to figure out which salad would be better and have fewer calories. Dung gave a little laugh. “Nah, but every now and then I try to resist because, you know, all the health food and working out.” Imogen looked at Finn for a second, deciding that was a weird thing for him to say. Something just didn’t seem right, Finn was being weird in a way that she wasn’t even sure what it was. “Ah yes, the working out. Reasonable enough reason to think so.” If Dung hadn’t been so apt at reading people he’d have probably assumed this was going entirely fine, but he could tell. That skill didn’t translate to being able to act flawlessly over someone he hadn’t spent much time with in years, however, and he hesitated. “Well, yeah. What’re you up to tonight? Late shift?” “They’re all late shifts anymore, unfortunately the longer this goes on the less people seem to care about the Statute of Secrecy,” Imogen said, with a shrug. “And there are fewer people, so more shifts that need to be filled. You weren’t hoping to moonlight as an Obliviator were you?” ‘Finn’ shook his head as he reached into the pocket of his robes and fumbled for his pack of cigarettes. Blame it on the nicotine addiction for whatever tics or oddities were showing. “Nope. Being an Auror is a full time job. I’ll leave the mind magic to you.” Imogen glanced at the pack of cigarettes in Finn’s hands, it was different from his normal brand, the packaging was all wrong and his response. Finn knew how to Obliviate people, did he just not want to joke about it in the nearly empty cafeteria? Was she just tired? She had been taking on extra shifts lately. “For the best really,” Imogen said. “It’s dangerous when people who don’t know what they’re doing mess around with mind magic.” “A little danger never hurt anyone,” Dung added thinking it would sound close to something Finn Williamson would say. The man did like a rush after all. “Can’t risk being like Crouch, you know?” “I don’t really know Crouch that well,” Imogen said. “But he’s Minister now so I’d imagine he’d had to have taken a risk at some point or another.” Her head turned back towards the menu but her eyes flickered back onto Williamson from the corners. “Did you enjoy working for him when he was in charge of the DMLE?” Merlin. Dung knew he needed to exit this conversation, but there was no real conceivable exit showing itself without making it seem awkward. “Knew him quite a bit when he was in charge of us. He did some stuff well and other stuff he was bollocks at.” Alarm bells started ringing and she gripped her wand. “I think I’m going to go with the garden salad,” Imogen said, moving her hand just slightly so that she could check to see if Finn was Confunded. Something bothered her about this and she knew that she needed to start watching what she said as the spell worked it’s magic. She just needed to keep him distracted while the spell worked. “He didn’t seem really very popular at certain points,” Imogen said. “I think I’m going to go with the garden salad - did you decide what you wanted?” “Think I’m just going to get some of this… cashew milk to hold me over.” Cashew Milk. Crabbe was probably going to watch him bloody well drink it, too. “Cashew milk? Really? The Ministry must really have taken their new nutrition menu seriously,” she mused, wand still in her hand. “What, you don’t like cashew milk?” ‘Finn’ scoffed for a moment before turning back to the cafeteria to place his order. At least this was probably a safer bet than whatever the hell ‘fungus tea’ was that he’d seen on Finn’s entries. There was a split second where he almost demanded they double the cashew, but he really had no idea how any of this shit worked. “Garden salad. You know how unhealthy that is?” It had to be unhealthy, right? It sounded too normal. Imogen almost said that the garden salad was just lettuce, onion, tomatoes, and cucumber but didn’t. A second later, she realized that the spell was done and he wasn’t Confunded. She didn’t know who the person in front of her was but she was reasonably sure that it absolutely wasn’t Finn Williamson and now it was time to make sure. “I’m sure I could find something healthier,” Imogen said, giving him a smile, and turning towards him. “I ran into Archie Kendrick in the lift and he recommended it and said it was a good option.” After receiving the carton of cashew milk and blinking at it for a split second, pondering just how awful this was going to taste if he couldn’t get out of drinking it, ‘Finn’ turned back to Imogen. “Oh yeah? Well, it’s not bad, but you know.” He shook the carton and listened to the liquid slosh around. “Kale?” He winked. “It’s all about diet and exercise.” With not so much as a change in expression at the mention of Kendrick, the Wizengamot member that they were blackmailing together, she grabbed her salad from the worker behind the glass and took a step towards “Finn” putting her hand on his arm. “I mean, I know it’s done really well for you.” She looked up at him, her lips turning up at the edges, giving him her best mischievous look. The hand on his arm brought some tension to the back of Dung’s neck. This was something he wasn’t prepared for -- he had no idea how Finn would flirt. Beyond that, he knew Finn was supposedly in a relationship with Johna Dawlish. But that didn’t mean Imogen wasn’t trying to climb her own mountain, here, regardless of that fact. “Of course it has. I don’t run and hike all that time for nothing.” He gave a little laugh that probably came out more unsettled than anything else. “I’ve really learned to appreciate it,” Imogen said. “I know this isn’t exactly appropriate for work,” she followed, her voice low, giving “Finn” her best coquettish look. “And I know we don’t know each other very well outside of the Ministry and my seeing Natalya, but if you wanted to well, stay the night again when I’m spending the evening with Natalya, I wouldn’t complain and I don’t think she would either.” Even if the cafeteria was still noisy ‘Finn’ could have sworn he heard a pin drop somewhere in the distance as heart hitched. What? It wasn’t so much that the request shocked him as he had no idea how Finn would reply to this. Natalya Dolohov was his best friend, and most notably a lesbian, but — “But Johna?” “I thought you told her?” Imogen asked. “Well she can come, that might make Natalya less nervous this time.” A pause. “Things weren’t too awkward the morning after, were they?” “I… don’t tell her everything.” His brow furled as he just stared at the shorter woman. “God no?” There was no way it came out not sounding like a question. Imogen Crabbe had to be having him on, right? Right? And yet, he couldn’t be sure. “Oh good,” Imogen said. “Well those things can always be awkward! And I had a really good time and you seemed to really be enjoying yourself.” Her hand on her wand as she talked she silently placed a tracker on the person she was sure was not Williamson. She needed to warn Diana or someone that something weird was going on and then she needed to make sure that not Finn did anything that would expose anything. “I’ll see you later Williamson!” she said. “Maybe we can grab a drink sometime but I should really go back to work.” “Right, yeah, I should finish up here and—” go run a marathon “grab something and get back to work.” He suspiciously watched the Death Eater depart. Time to get back to work. |