What Would Rhys Cadwallader Do? (cymru) wrote in disorderic, @ 2018-01-05 17:17:00 |
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Rhys stood before the wall, forehead creased with concentration as he grappled with a Very Important Question. “Love, is there a difference between ‘Tofu’ and ‘Cannoli Cream’ or was the shop just playing tricks on me?” he asked, looking very sheepish as his eyes moved from his handful of nearly-identical white paint swatches to Nora and back again. Nora cocked her head to the side as if that would somehow make the colours show differently against the fading wall. She couldn't tell a difference, either. "Maybe it's a lighting thing? They shine up a little different in the sunlight?" Rhys joined her in tilting his head, teetering slightly as he tried to maintain his balance. “I mean, that must be it? But from this angle, it kind of looks a bit more like—” he glanced down at the swatches again and frowned. “—’Sea Salt’? Or am I just crazy? Clearly, I wasn’t destined to be an interior designer.” Noticing the wobble, Nora moved closer and gently put her hand on her husband's shoulder to steady and support him. A moment later, she rested her head against him. "Maybe that's what we get for picking such a boring colour. Fifty shades of white." A timer buzzed on her phone, startling her. "Oh! That's the brownies. I'll be back in a sec." She headed off toward the kitchen before anything got a chance to burn in the oven. “You're the best!” Rhys called after her, but she was already gone. Needing to rest for a moment, he hobbled over toward a bench near the entrance and eased himself onto it, then carefully set his crutches aside. Once settled, he turned his attention again to the paint swatches. Why hadn't anyone invented a colour-picking spell yet? This was a mystery even a former Auror couldn't solve. Rodolphus had taken his time that afternoon, enjoying the day as much as he could as he waited to go to the B&B. His booking had told him he could check in after 3 and he arrived an hour and a half after, as the day crept towards evening. He wore a hat, wide brimmed, which hid half of his face when seen from most angles and he carried a bag. As he walked towards the entrance, he smiled to himself. There was a figure on a bench and it took a moment to recognise him. Rodolphus tipped his hat. “Good afternoon, Mr Cadwallader.” As the bell above the door dinged to notify him of a visitor, Rhys automatically set down the paint chips and struggled awkwardly to his feet, expecting their guest—a Mr Raines had been set to arrive, and it was Mr Raines that Rhys was expecting when he rose to greet him. “Good afternoon, Mr—” Rhys began cheerily, though this halted immediately when his eyes met an entirely different face. He froze at the sight of Rodolphus, eyes wide as that of a deer in headlights. His first instinct was to reach for his wand (he’d left that at the front desk when he’d wandered over to compare paint shades), or yell for Nora to escape (but what if that just made the Death Eater go after Nora?), but when neither of those appeared to be a good option, he simply did nothing. Panicked, he searched Rodolphus’ face for any indication as to what he intended to do to him. Was this the end? Had he done something to offend him? Or was he simply here to torture him for fun? When he could finally manage to speak, Rhys opted for strained professionalism, not wanting to do anything to provoke him. “Mr Lestrange? Good afternoon. How can I, um, may I help you with something?” Rodolphus was delighted. The panic that gripped Rhys was obvious and he watched with a mostly neutral expression, though he couldn’t keep the smile from his face. He didn’t really want to try. It made him look more smug than he thought, amusement brightening his gaze as he looked at the other man. “Good afternoon. You can help me by looking up my reservation.” He reached up to take his hat off. “It’s under Leopold Raines.” “Mr Leopold Raines,” Rhys repeated in a small voice, incredulous. His expression wilted under that smug gaze. “You have a reservation.” Unsure of what else to do, he headed—slowly, as always—toward the front desk, frantically hoping that Nora would poke her head in and realise something was up. If she was quick enough, perhaps she could get away. It was probably it for him, but she still had a chance; perhaps she’d even be able to get their long-term guests to safety. Once at the desk, he began to flip through the reservation book, hoping to buy her some time. On her way back up the hallway, Nora wasn't surprised to hear two voices; it was check-in time, after all, and plenty of guests passed through the front room on their way in and out. What stopped her was the strain in her husband's tone, the tension. She crept closer and paused just out of sight to listen. Leopold Raines, a name she recognized from the booking list for the night. Reservation. She gripped her wand tightly. When she turned the corner to see Rodolphus Lestrange, she froze just long enough to take in the scene. Her impulse then wasn't to fly or to fight, but just to get Rhys away from him, to put herself between them if she needed to. She moved quickly to Rhys's side behind the desk. She kept her wand ready, but not aimed at their new guest. Her free hand found Rhys's arm, to offer what little comfort she could by her presence. He wanted her to run, she could feel it, but she wasn't leaving him there alone. "We'll need to see your I.D." “Of course,” Rodolphus said, warmly. He eyed the two of them and slipped his hand into his pocket, pausing slightly. It was deliberate. He started to empty his pocket — a packet of hum, his wallet, his wand and, finally, the ID card, separate from them all. Wand in one hand, he held the ID out. “It’s all perfectly in order. I’m an ideal guest.” Rhys looked to Nora, eyes pleading, before returning his attention to Rodolphus. “Of course. Nora, love, would you mind asking Albi to fetch our guest’s bag and bring it up? I can show him to his room,” he said, and forced a smile, a last ditch effort to give Nora a way out. He took the ID, trying to will his hand not to tremble. “Don’t tell anyone, but the Lily is our best and brightest room. We don’t let it out to just anyone. Please come along.” he lied, moving to lead him in the direction furthest away from their secluded wing. Nora's determined gaze never left her husband; a slight shake of her head, no. Nothing he could do or say would make her leave him alone with Rodolphus Lestrange. She cleared her throat and called out for the house elf, who popped into the room and immediately gathered their new guest's belongings to follow along. She wouldn't be able to convince Rhys to stay in the front room and let her handle things, she knew that, so she didn't press the issue in front of Lestrange. Something closer to hatred than fear shone in her eyes when she looked at that man, but her tone stayed cordial, even polite. "Just follow us," she said. "It's right this way." Rodolphus’ smile never left his face, edged and confident, assessing the Cadwalladers every step of the way. There was something particularly delightful about people’s fear and their anger — it made his spine straighten, his day brighter. He was happy to follow after them, looking around to establish the layout. “Charming,” he said, after a beat, “and, at the very least you have a house elf. I do hope business is going well.” He glanced towards Rhys; there was a cruel slant to his mouth as he said, “I know how hard things can be for some people when they lose their job.” Rhys winced despite his efforts at forced hospitableness. “Well, my old job doesn’t exist any more anyway, but you know what never goes out of style? A relaxing getaway in Wales.” he said, bitterness slipping through even though he tried his best to stick to the script. “This B&B has been in the Cadwallader family for over three hundred years—I know how much you love history.” He limped along, painfully aware of every dragging, uncoordinated footstep; he knew that Rodolphus was likely enjoying the fact that this—all of this—was a result of his actions. For Rhys, however, it stung. A thought suddenly struck Nora, jolting through her entire being. Keeping her voice as calm as she could, she asked, "Should we be expecting Mrs Lestrange as well?" Rodolphus looked over at Nora and then back at Rhys for a moment. He’d enjoyed the script, the attempt at normalcy, even though he could tell they were at least mildly shaken. The question about his wife delighted him. “Not this time,” he said, “though I may invite her for a walk. Is there much of historical interest in the area?” Before Rhys could say anything, Nora jumped in. He shouldn't have to interact with this man anymore than absolutely necessary; she knew how much even this walk was killing him. "You'll find a brochure in your room highlighting local attractions, including a map of the trails in the area." She continued as they turned the corner to the last little pocket of hallway, which ended in the Lily room. "And here we are." In a quick movement, she snapped the room key up out of Rhys's pocket (she wasn't going to let this man touch him, even the briefest brush of a hand) and held it up to their guest. "Please remember to leave the key at the desk anytime you leave the inn. Have a pleasant stay." Rodolphus’ smile was delighted and full of cruelty for it. “Oh, I certainly intend to. Thank you so much for the personal welcome. It’s so nice to see you again, Mr Cadwallader. Mrs Cadwallader.” Rhys frowned at ‘again’, but wanted nothing more than to end this interaction as soon as possible. “Please call Albi if you need anything and can't find us. Thank you for choosing the Gentle Green,” he recited, waiting for Rodolphus to enter his room first; he didn't want to turn his back on him. Nora's jaw clenched at the little wave the man offered as he closed the door behind him. Tension buzzed through her body as they moved back up the hallway, but she didn't say anything until they turned the corner again and were out of earshot and she wrapped Rhys in a tight embrace. "It's okay," she said quietly, repeating herself again and again as if that would somehow make it true. It wasn't okay. None of this was. However, Rhys leaned into her embrace and tried to imagine, for a moment, that it was. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, this is my fault,” he said quietly, hoping that she could forgive him for whatever he'd done that had brought this upon them. Despite his own fear and guilt, he still managed the smallest of smiles, looking to Nora with admiration. “You're the bravest person I know. We'll make it through this. I love you.” "I love you," she replied, "And none of this is your fault. We should tell someone. We should tell…" Her mind ran through options, eliminating every one as she went; too brash, too likely to freak out, too likely to be murdered. "I don't know." Rhys, unfortunately, was also drawing a blank. This was a very precarious situation, and he didn't want to risk making this worse if he could help it. “We'll figure it out. We'll go back to our room, I'll put on some tea, and we'll figure this out. We'll tell someone, you know, just in case, but we just have to figure out who.” No-one who'd start a duel and prompt Rodolphus Lestrange to burn down the B&B with everyone inside, preferably. Nora nodded, trying to look surer than she felt. There wasn't anything to figure out. This was a nightmare. What were they going to do? |