robinet burke. (robinet) wrote in disorderic, @ 2018-01-27 22:01:00 |
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Looking (and feeling) much more impeccably dressed than he was an hour ago, Lucius stepped inside Borgin and Burkes with a grimace that partly reflected his unhappiness to be in Knockturn but mostly at being the bearer of bad news. He spotted the Burke boy immediately and made his way over. "Burke," he said. "Is your father around? I have to speak to the both of you." Robin looked up from his phone, attention drawn by a familiar voice. He’d hexted Richenza a couple of times and he’d been debating doing it again, a link to something, an irate ‘are you ignoring me bc i said that video was only kinda and not really funny’, a demand to know what could be keeping her attention more. His thumb hovered over his messages, forgotten for a moment as he looked at Lucius Malfoy. “He’s doing something with the accounts,” he said. “It’d have to be really important to bother him.” Lucius nodded shortly. "I'm afraid it's very important. Can you get him?" Robin squinted at him for a moment. He half-wanted to make a joke about Lucius’ demeanour, but something stopped him — the look on his face, his brusque manner. He shrugged and pocketed the phone, forgetting about hexting his cousin for a moment. “I’ll be back in a moment,” he said. It did take more than a few minutes. When Robin walked into the back office, leaning lazily against the doorframe, his dad looked irritated to be disturbed. “But what can possibly be that important?” Emory Burke groused, as he set the pen he was using aside and rounded the desk to leave the office. “Can you not sell him something expensive?” “I don’t know, Dad,” Robin said, hands in his pockets as they walked back towards the shopfloor. “Maybe he’s here so you two can rekindle your torrid affair.” Emory’s sigh was sharp. “You better hope he can’t hear you.” “Maybe I can shout it?” “Shut up, Robinet,” Emory said and walked into the shop. His manner changed, slightly more fond, if no warmer. “Good afternoon, Lucius. It’s so good to see you. You’re looking well.” There was the polite beat and then, “How may I help you today?” Lucius wanted to smile back, but knew it would be in poor taste. Instead, he nodded again, turning his attention to Emory. "Earlier today, there was an attack during the Quidditch game," he began, realizing he should've rehearsed what he was going to say. "Richenza was involved. Unfortunately," discomfort crept into his voice, "she didn't survive it." His eyes went to Robinet and then back to Emory. There was a pause. Robin wasn’t sure if it was short or long: it just felt like time collapsing in on itself. There was a sharp stab in his chest. His hands were still in his pockets and he curled them into each other. Had he been staring at Lucius Malfoy for too long? Had his dad? Robin looked at his father (down, just a bit). Emory had gone paler. Even his lips looked white. “What?” Robin said, sharply, voice hard, before his dad got a chance to say anything. He suddenly could predict Emory saying thank you and letting Lucius leave. He thought he might rip his throat out if that happened. “Sorry, what did you say?” “Robinet —” Robin ignored him. “I think I didn’t hear you right.” "We've received news that Richenza has been," there was just the slightest of pauses, "killed. She, I believe, fell from a broom." There wasn't much else to interpret from Gerald's comment. Remembering proper form, Lucius added, much less mildly and more sincerely than before. Dying for the cause never felt important when faced with telling the family of the news. "If there's anything Narcissa and I can do for your family, please let us know." “She fell from a broom?” Robin said, his face twisting horribly. He wanted to ask again, to tell Lucius to sit and demand answers. There was no way Richenza had fallen from a broom. Robin had been hexting her. His hand closed around his phone. He looked wildly around at his dad, who was standing still as a statue, breathing hard. He spoke and it sounded like the creak of an old, unused door. Odd, Robin thought, when he’d just been talking. “Of course. I — thank you for letting us know,” Emory said and Robin choked on air, suddenly angry and something else, a rolling wave of something crushing him from the inside out. His dad looked at him and reached out, a hand on his arm, and Robin didn’t know what to do so he left it. Emory was still talking. “Do let us know if there’s any further details. I’d rather not learn it from some of the press.” He was out of his element in dividing his attention between father and son, but Robinet's reactions made him feel more uncomfortable than he already was, and that forced him to focus on Emory instead. Yet, out of the corner of his eye, Lucius kept a watch on him. "Of course," he said. "And we'll make sure her name will be protected from any slander." Emory’s voice was mechanical as he thanked Lucius again, nodding at him. “She’s a good girl,” he said and Robin couldn’t look at him anymore. He couldn’t hear him, either of them, and he was suddenly too hot. He was furious and he could barely see out of his eyes. It felt like there were needles in the back of them. “Slander,” he repeated, scoffing, and then, “That’s ridiculous. This is ridiculous.” “Robinet, please,” Emory said but Robin had already turned. The crushing inside of him was getting worse and he didn’t want to hear Lucius’ voice anymore, didn’t want any more words to reverberate around his head with an intensity that was too much. He left the shopfloor, pushing open the door to the back office and throwing himself against the wall. His breathing was too hard and Robin pressed his forehead against the wall for a moment. Breathe, breathe, breathe, he told his body and hoped it would listen. On the shop floor, Emory looked at the vacuum his son had left, rage and misery palpable, and his fingers twitched. “I’ll make sure to tell everyone else. We appreciate your haste, Lucius. Thank you.” As the boy left, Lucius was already ready to make his goodbyes. He was fortunate that Emory opened it for him. With an attempt at a smile, though it looked more like a thin line, he said, "Of course," for lack of anything else to say. "I have some urgent business to attend to, but you know where to find me." With that, he left the Burkes and fled the stifling atmosphere. |