robinet burke. (robinet) wrote in disorderic, @ 2018-01-26 20:27:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | bellatrix lestrange, robinet burke |
WHO: Bellatrix Lestrange & Robinet Burke
WHAT: Bellatrix is on the hunt. For new weapons
WHERE: Borgin & Burkes
WHEN: Friday 26th January, afternoon
WARNINGS: Delightful!
The winter blues had set in at the Malfoy Manor and Bellatrix decided the best solution was to treat herself to something nice. She’d considered the shops in Diagon Alley, but nothing in the well-lit, clean storefronts appealed to her. It seemed only natural that she’d ended up in Knockturn, her shoulders back and head held high as she walked the straight line to a favorite shop of hers. When she made it, she spared the swinging sign above the door a fleeting glance before she shouldered her way inside. For Robin, one of the perks of being a cursebreaker was the more flexible hours, the fact that as long as he worked enough they didn’t care when. It meant he spent a good bit of time in the shop, sometimes in the back room, working on his work projects, sometimes on stuff for the shop. He had both set up today, a mountain of notes surrounding him, and a very stubborn code he couldn’t crack. The alert that there was a new customer was almost a relief. Scribbling another sentence — a sharp, spiky “didn’t work” — Robin pushed himself out of his seat and left the backroom. He was still surprised to see Bellatrix Lestrange. An eyebrow raised and then he tried his best to school his face into neutral. “Hello,” he greeted and then, “If you need any assistance, I’m here.” It was a touch more polite than his usual I’m working in the back, so shout. Bellatrix glanced up from where she’d been idly considering a few of the larger pieces flanking the doorway. At the sight of the Burke boy, her mind cycled back to the conversation she’d had with Rabastan just days before. This was one of his son’s friends. “Perhaps you can help me,” she said, approaching the counter. “I’m looking for something exceptional. Something one-of-a-kind I’ll not have ever seen before. And, of course, something else that’s rather sharp.” Robin tilted his head slightly, squinting for a moment as he thought. Something exceptional meant distinctly different things in B&B depending on the clientele: something exceptional for a Lestrange was not the same kind of exceptional for a Greengrass or a Warrington. “All right. Let me think for a moment. We’ve got some more interesting things out the back but the knives have just been replenished.” He walked around the counter, towards the sharps counter, glancing at Bellatrix only briefly. It was strange to be in the same space as someone he still mostly heard about talked in whispers. Robin tried to ignore it and instead pushed aside a panel, revealing a collection of knives, daggers, and even a couple of swords. “Some of these are just ordinary.” “Some of them aren’t,” she said, the gleam of the knives reflecting in her eyes as she leaned in to look them over. Her gaze landed on one in particular: a silver dagger with a scrolling engraving etched into the blunt side of its blade. She could tell without being told that it carried a ferocious curse. She inclined her head to indicate the sharp object of her desire. “Goblin-made, is it?” A smile sprung across Robin's face, a sure appreciation obvious in his expression as he looked at the knife. It was beautiful and terrible, ferociously made and cursed. “Yes,” he said, “and quite old too. The blade’s got a few curses on it. One keeps it opening wounds. It's quite clever.” He stopped himself from rambling. “I can tell,” Bellatrix said with another appreciative glance at the metalwork in front of her. Gradually, her attention shifted to the next most impressive in the set. She indicated that one with another tilt of her head. “That one too. I’ll take them both.” “Okay,” Robin said, smiling a little. They were expensive, but he didn’t even bother to quote a price. Instead he just said, “I’ll get them wrapped for you. They’ll be great in any collection.” And, for a moment, he told himself that was all it was: a collection, not to be used, not to be wielded by probably the country’s most prominent Death Eater, besides YKW himself. Robin didn’t concern himself with what happened to pieces after people brought them. It was none of his business. He opened the case for the knives and removed the two she wanted, thinking about taking care of them, rather than anything else. This was just business. “The second one’s a gift,” she said, unaware of his reservations as she watched the knives closely in his hands. “Make sure it’s wrapped nicely.” Robin lifted an eyebrow and then nodded, ducking behind the counter. It took only a minute to wrap them and then: “Is it a birthday thing? We’ve got some birthday wrapping here. It’s probably a bit late for Christmas, but if it’s really belated we’ve got some of that too.” Bellatrix couldn’t be bothered to consider which made more sense and waved her hand in a dismissive gesture at the paper, “Birthday wrapping’s fine.” And with that out of the way, a smirk spread across her lips. “Then you can deliver it for me.” Robin blinked. “I'm not a delivery man.” “It’s for the Carmichael boy,” she said, ignoring his refusal for now. “I believe you know him?” Robin blinked again. He was going to turn into an owl, at this rate. A frown turned his mouth down at the corners and he looked at the knife he was wrapping. “Eddie’s birthday was ages ago,” he said, instead of why are you buying Eddie a knife, which should have been his first question but somehow wasn’t. Robin smoothed the edge of the paper charmed to protect its contents and then looked at Bellatrix. “Why’re you buying him anything?” “I’m feeling generous. And everyone should have a quality blade at their disposal, shouldn’t they?” Her tone pleasant enough, but it became more clipped as she continued, “Not that it’s any of your business.” “It’s all our selling business” Robin said lightly, his tone making the words more an observation than anything. He set the knife to one side and wrapped Bellatrix’s more thoroughly. “He’s like my best friend anyway, he’ll love a knife.” A small smirk appeared on his face, there and gone, as he imagined Eddie’s face upon receiving a cursed blade from Bellatrix Lestrange. He didn’t let it linger too much. He didn’t want Bellatrix to think it was directed at her. Her tone was less caustic when she spoke again, feigning a mild interest in the name of procuring more information. “Your best friend?” She made no effort to conceal her own smirk. “I don’t suppose you’re any good with a knife, are you?” Suspicion crawled up Robin’s spine and wariness buried its way into his tone. “Why?” “He’ll need someone to show him how to use it, of course.” “Oh,” Robin said, some of the wariness lifting. “I thought you were asking for worse reasons.” Of course, the suggestion from Death Eater Head Witch Herself to show anyone how to use a cursed knife was not ideal. Robin frowned a little as he thought of Richenza. He wasn’t the Death Eater. “I’m sure he can use it all right. Just a bit of stabbing action and it does the rest.” He tapped his fingers against the knives. “Do you need this sent to your home?” Ignoring his question, Bellatrix openly scoffed. “A bit of stabbing action?” She shook her head. “It’s a bit more complex than that. Let’s hope you never end up in a knife fight with someone who knows what they’re doing.” “I haven’t been in a knife fight since my very youth,” Robin said, quickly, and then he remembered who he was speaking to and that attempted banter with Bellatrix Lestrange shouldn’t include words like ‘knife fight.’ What if she stabbed him? Just for fun? The thought was fairly prominent in his mind as he lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “You know how it is.” “Do I ever,” she said, her smirk looking more sinister by the moment. Robin had really not planned that one out. He let out a slight laugh and then changed tack immediately. “Do you wanna see the cursed necklace we just got in?” “Is Harry Potter a dead man walking?” Bellatrix laughed at her own joke and straightened up, before inclining her head toward him. “Show me.” |