Vic Mulciber (fromdefeat) wrote in disorderic, @ 2018-01-19 19:05:00 |
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Vic didn’t deign to bring herself to the Ministry Cafeteria very often. She disliked the majority of her colleagues and was far too busy doing the work they should be completing themselves instead of taking a lunch break, to actually take one herself. It reminded her of Hogwarts, where she’d rarely been allowed to join the Slytherin table, and no one in Gryffindor would ever sit with her. Not that she’d ever cared. But apparently the mortification of having no where to sit in a room full of people was not just an adolescent thing. “Is this seat fr—“ all the belligerent imperiousness left her voice and demeanour when she actually looked at the only person in the room that seemed to have an empty seat at their table. Gawain Robards. It wasn’t too often that Gawain ate in the cafeteria these days. His schedule as a Wizengamot member was frantic, and it was difficult enough to keep tabs on the happening in the DMLE in addition to that. But it was precisely for that reason -- that he was a Wizengamot member -- that Gawain put himself out on occasion in public to show that he was here, he was human, he wasn’t cowering away — there for the people. Not surprisingly the average person tended to avoid being seen getting too close with the former Auror. Surely he was a target. No one wanted to be caught in the crossfire. Except, potentially, Vic Mulciber it seemed. Gawain looked up, not surprised nor shocked, and gestured with a hand to the spot opposite him. “By all means, join me.” Vic, to what would be her continued mortification upon recollection, had briefly frozen in a bent knee tableau, tray hovering decimetres over the table. She let it drop. “Thank you,” she answered cautiously, calmly (she felt) and did not think of Layla as she took the seat. She cleared her throat. “Do Wizengamot members not get private lunch rooms or something?” If Gawain had noticed the hesitation (he had), he didn’t point it out. Instead, he stabbed his fork into the side-dish salad while Mulciber got herself settled. “They do, or they have working lunches. I try to see everyone else now and again. I saw you all for years, it’s a large change not to.” Vic couldn’t help it, she snorted. “I hope that’s out of routine and not an actual desire to see these people,” she gestured absently to the room. “I spend most of my day trying not to…” She trailed off, mouth pressed into a line. Shut up. “Sorry, I’m projecting. You care, or so your platform told me. You were literally elected for that reason.” She’d followed his campaign closely, partially because watching it was like watching the prelude to a train wreck —Gawain Robards was a problem for the DEs with a capital ‘P’ — and partially because all that rebellious moral conviction was kind of hot. She’d been so disappointed when he hadn’t gone around kissing babies or offering hugs for votes. Especially since he wouldn’t be allowed to live now. Gawain looked slightly amused at Mulciber’s projection. He knew full well from personal experience, and also from working up profiles after her sister Rosamund’s arrest over a decade earlier, that the middle child had an aversion to social interaction. “Yes, I do. Regardless of my personal feelings of some. You don’t pick and choose in civil service.” “If you try to, why are you in the cafeteria? Certainly there’s many other places with less traffic.” Vic wanted badly to ask him just who it was he wouldn’t pick. Something told her he wasn’t one to gossip. At his question she nearly huffed. “Like my office, you mean, where I almost exclusively take my lunch. I’ve been told I don’t play nice, which is unbecoming of a Deputy Head.” She gestured with her fork, deadpan. “So here I am, playing nice. Not that it matters, I am the sister of a Death Eater.” “I wouldn’t say going out elsewhere makes one not play nice. Sometimes you need the sanity break,” Gawain pointed out, taking another forkful. No, it was likely Mulciber’s abrasive personality working in other ways, but on the other hand Gawain couldn’t fault her for wanting people to appreciate her hard work and accomplishments. Who didn’t? The former Auror simply stared at the comment. “Yes, I’m quite aware of that, Vic,” he answered simply, holding his cards to his chest and even calling her by her preferred nickname. Vic blinked at the sound of her name coming from Gawain Robards. She fought against the fluttery feeling in her stomach, harder than she’d ever fought against a Cruciatus. “And you still let me sit with you,” she observed coolly (she hoped). “One social pariah to another?” “Why wouldn’t I? It isn’t as if you’re your sister.” Vic flinched, however slightly. Whatever his meaning for saying them, those exact words had been a sore spot for 33 years. She recovered with a tight smile and stabbed at her food with more force than necessary. “No, I’m not,” she said emphatically. “I’m doing my best to make something of myself inspite of her. Them.” This was not how she wanted the conversation to go. She brushed her hair back from her face, irritated. “Um, so how is the...Wizengamot?” Gawain had been sincere, of course. While he certainly kept his healthy dose of skepticism (an environment that raised one Death Eater was worth watching to see what other branches sprouted) he didn’t tend to nail the coffin closed without proof. “And you have done so.” Regardless of whatever (rightful) stigma the Mulciber name had upon it, Victoria Mulciber had done something with herself in public service. “Interesting, to say the least. What I expected. They also moved my seat physically next to Umbridge.” That earned a smile from Vic. “Adorable, do you pass each other notes? Be my friend, circle ‘yes’ or ‘kindly die.’” “Something like that,” Gawain replied, looking aghast. “She’s pleasant, but she’s also very Dolores.” Which, frankly, Gawain felt summed up things better than he could ever try to describe in another way. Vic snorted, unable to stop the grin that tugged at her mouth. She hadn’t actually had a conversation with Robards before, but his determination to be neutral and professional was amusing. “You’re such a politician.” Letting out a small sigh, Gawain shook his head at Mulciber’s reaction. “By trade, now, rather than by necessity of keeping investigation confidentiality. Which, let me tell you, I would not have considered a potential reality a year ago. Being a politician, that is.” “Then you undervalued yourself,” Vic said simply. “Maybe the uh, Death Eaters created an opportunity, but it’s always been clear that you’re a good leader. People look up to you.” She shrugged. It was true, if he was any less of a beacon for ethical, honest leadership, the Death Eaters wouldn’t care so much. It was a pity. Vic resisted the girlish sigh. Gawain gave her a small, thankful smile while gauging her reactions. This was not what he’d anticipated out of this particular chat. It was refreshing, to some degree, but he couldn’t shake the feeling Mulciber had a crush. Which was absurd, right? “Thank you. I’m not questioning some of that, I was promoted to Head Auror after all. I simply thought I’d do more mentoring in a DMLE capacity rather than the Wizengamot.” Vic shrugged and speared a small potato into her mouth. “Maybe this was your true calling.” The phone she’d set on the table began to vibrate furiously, chirping an ‘emergency! Report to the Floo Network Authority’ with irritating repetition. Vic scowled, harassed. “Of course. Why they forced me to even leave the office, I’ll never know.” She pushed back from the table, vanishing what was left of her meal, the garbage levitated to the trash bin behind them. “Sorry,” she said, and meant it. “This was...nice.” Nodding, Gawain gave her a look of understanding. “I know how it goes.” The DMLE had it’s share of emergencies, after all. He pushed himself to his feet as was proper to see Vic Mulciber off. Perhaps with a little more time he’d have a better picture of the middle Mulciber child. “Perhaps I’ll see you around, then.” “Okay,” she blurted out, and then closed her eyes against the rush of horror at her complete lack of composure. You are a DEATH EATER, have some dignity! She cleared her throat. “Excuse me. I hope you have —“ As Vic went to step to the left and around Gawain, a fellow employee shoved their chair back suddenly, catching Vic in the knees and forcing her to trip forward. She knocked her shin against the table leg and stumbled gracelessly into Gawain’s arms. Reaction time was something Gawain had in spades, and so when Mulciber pitched forward he moved to catch her — why let her completely topple over, after all? — and collected her in his arms. Gently, he pushed her back to her feet so that she wasn’t leaning against his chest so firmly. “Are you alright?” Vic was not alright. Vic was internally screaming. Arms still stretched out in the same position they’d been when wrapped around Gawain Robards’ incredible, strong chest, Vic blinked, stupefied. “Um,” she mumbled, in a daze. “What?” Quizzically, Gawain looked at her with concern. Had he missed something that happened? “Are you alright?” he repeated, scanning past her to see the occupants of the other table laughing. “You seem stunned.” “Hmm?” She blinked at him, wide eyed, and then turned. There was nothing more sobering than the taunting laughter of peers. Mortified, she snatched the hand that had somehow reached forward to pat Gawain’s chest (oh my god), and visibly recoiled. “The uh, fall,” she gestured lamely, ears bright red and getting hotter. “Just took me by um — thanks for catching me, you have very…” she trailed off and realized she was staring at his arms again. Vic would have to kill him, and then herself. The only solution was to eliminate all witnesses. “Okay, thanks. Goodbye forever,” came out as clipped and brisk as the exit she suddenly made. “I will disembowel all of you,” she hissed at the laughing table on the way past. They abruptly shut up. Gawain had raised a brow at Vic’s movement with her hand, but then simply shook his head when she sputtered a response, clearly with a blush. This was interesting. “Think nothing of it,” he soothed, and then watched her exit, bemused. The former Auror took his seat, and resumed eating seemingly unbothered to what had just transpired. |