chuck wardwell (chuck) wrote in disorderic, @ 2018-04-06 23:51:00 |
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Even hooded and in Knockturn, people’s eyes still found Layla. Usually, the ever self-preserving crowd of opportunists, small-time crooks, and other unscrupulous denizens averted their gaze when she caught them looking, but it wasn’t fast enough to see their expressions. Not the fame she’d dreamed about as a child, crowned the Quidditch Captain of winning World Cup team, but infamy that came from public knowledge of the brand on her arm. Layla wasn’t fond of it, but she knew it was the bed she’d made herself even as she prepared for something much different. She sent a withering glare at a crusty old hag selling severed mermaid fingers (“for good luck wooing that merman of choice, dearie!”) that sent the woman scurrying away from the entrance to Mr Mulpepper’s Apothecary. Moments later she’d entered the store, weaving her way through past steaming cauldrons and displays of ingredients to the counter. Having pushed back her hood and without preamble beyond a nod of recognition, Layla spoke. “I’m looking to make a purchase. Very quietly, of course.” Chuck’s expression didn’t change, but she knew exactly who — and what — she was looking at. Layla was only a few years younger than she was, after all. And Chuck didn’t say much, but she paid attention. A flick of her wand flipped her ‘out to lunch’ sign so it was facing outwards and she lifted her eyebrows expectantly at Layla. “How can I help you?” Chuck asked. Despite coming here for the express purpose of this purchase, Layla hesitated, hating that she looked indecisive suddenly, and also undoubtedly with a tinge of nerves. She could have told herself in the mirror until she was blue in the face what the likely outcome for leaving would be, but to actually go out and purchase a contingency plan? Something else. “I need a poison,” the Death Eater said slowly. “Preferably something that’s extremely fast acting, but ultimately that’s easy to store for use in a pinch.” She cleared her throat and looked away from Chuck for a moment. There was no real way to deny what she felt was obvious what the purpose of it was. “If it’s painless that’s — good.” It wasn’t Chuck’s place to pry, but the corners of her mouth tightened ever so slightly. “You’ll probably want something potent,” she said. Her eyes swept across Layla’s frame, mentally cataloguing her size and stacking that against what she already knew about poisons. “A small dose of something? You could hide it in a pendant.” She gestured at her own neck. “And then whoever could bite down on it.” Layla nodded, happy that Chuck was taking this into her own hands without asking a bunch of pointed, yet necessary questions. Layla didn’t want to talk about it. She just wanted to make sure that the Dark Lord or the Inner Circle would never get access to her mind if it came to it. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “That’d make it easy. As long as it’s quick and an absolute one way ticket, I’m at your expertise.” “All right,” Chuck said evenly. But she was surprised. Why wasn’t Layla asking more questions? ”I might have something that attacks the nervous system and stops the heart.” Another curt little nod. “That sounds… great.” Her nose wrinkled at the thought of it, but Layla pushed onwards anyway: “And the chances and timeframe for it to be counteracted before death?” “I can concentrate it so it’s more potent and fast-acting, but there’s always a chance they can shove a bezoar down your throat,” Chuck answered. “There wouldn’t be time to find an antidote, though.” She glanced at the front window and the street beyond before directing her attention back to Layla. “I’m sure there’s someone out there who get you a portkey to Merlin knows where, though.” Yet another nod, and Layla felt that there was little more to say about this. It wasn’t her field at all, potions and poisons, and so she had to put trust in someone else. “Fair enough,” she answered, satisfied as well as she was going to be with the explanation. Snape had gone on about bezoars more than enough as it was. “How long would it take for something like this to be ready?” Layla’s shoulders tensed at the comment that obviously struck the needle on the head. Not that she was being particularly subtle about anything. Her eyes found Chuck’s for a few moments, internally mulling over how to respond. Eventually, she went with honesty. “I’m sure they could.” A breath. “Consider it a last resort, and I hope I won’t ever have to see how effective it is.” Chuck only nodded and pretended she hadn’t said anything about a portkey. “It wouldn’t take me long. Maybe a day or two.” Which, of course, the dropping of the subject even if it was a solid, helpful idea, suited Layla just fine. “I’ll be back in two, then.” She reached into her pocket, and withdrew some galleons set on the counter for a downpayment. “Thanks. For everything here, that is.” “Thank you for choosing Mulpepper’s,” Chuck said, reaching for the galleons and drawing them over the edge of the counter. “I wouldn’t choose anywhere else,” Layla said, pulling up her hood and then turning to head towards the exit. |