(mary) francine goldstein (francen) wrote in disorderic, @ 2017-11-17 18:54:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !!! npc: willy locke, mary francine goldstein |
WHO: Francine Goldstein and Willy Locke
WHAT: Stealing wands and bad pickup lines
WHEN: November 17, afternoon
WHERE: Knockturn Alley, in front of Toxic Tapers
With her target secured, it was really easy to find Willy Locke. All she had to do was ask Nelson the barber where he ("the really gross looking guy") was. Nelson had directed her to Toxic Tapers and lo and behold, there he was, pressing his face against the window of the shop. Adjusting her black wig (there was always an opportunity for a good wig, she believed) and the fake glasses, Francine took a few deep breaths and walked towards him. She always needed that extra measure of patience to deal with Locke. She tapped him on the shoulder and grimaced at her decision not to wear gloves. Who knew what kind of diseases she'd just gotten from that brief touch? "Hi," she said, voice lowered so as not to sound like herself. "Are you, um, Willy?" Still bristling over the earlier package delivered to him (that punched him in the nose!), Willy was sporting a bandage horizontally across the bridge of his nose because he was sure it was broken. Well, he wasn’t sure, but it felt broken so he’d applied it anyway. Now he was at Toxic Tapers browsing through the window to find out which poison candle he’d send to the asshole that did this to him! When the fingers briefly tapped him on the shoulder he pulled away from the glass, having actually been pressed against it, and left a grease smear on the window. Willy squinted at the dark haired woman. Did he know her? Either way, she was clearly hitting on him. “Yeah, that’s me,” he boasted, puffing out his chest. Francine's eyes flickered over to the grease smear and then to the bandage on his nose. The first thing was disgusting, but normal, and the second thing was probably deserved. Willy Locke lived his life deserving every bad thing that came his way. Before she could get too involved in her imagination, his voice reminded her of her task. She forced a smile onto her face. "Oh, I thought you'd be taller!" She wasn't going to lie. “Oi I’m plenty tall,” Willy retorted, greasy brow furling at the… slight insult, even if it was just this woman being honest. He crossed his arms over his chest covering a hole in his ratty robes, and then leaned against the shop’s front. "I just meant…" she grimaced at her next words, "I've heard so much about you it's like you're Alexander Winston!" Francine doubted that Willy knew who Alexander Winston, a Muggleborn artist in the eighteenth century, was. Hopefully he'd take that as a compliment. Willy was an idiot so it wasn’t any surprised he was enjoying this attention without the slightest clue he was being mocked. “Course I am, I’m all about Winston,” he said, nodding in the affirmative. “How’d you hear about me? All my snatch work?” It took all of her training to maintain her smile at his phrasing. If she ruined this by arguing with him, he'd definitely know who she was and then she'd never get his wand! She twirled her fake hair and batted her eyelashes at him, using the opportunity to quickly scan over his body (she knew she'd need to wipe this from her memory later on) to figure out where he kept his wand. "Of… course," she replied. "You're so famous for that." With a flashing grin, Willy uncrossed his arms and pushed off from the wall to close the distance with this obviously flirtatious witch. Willy wasn’t particularly clever nor, from someone living in Knockturn, particularly keen on securing his prized positions. His wand poked out from the external pocket of his robes in plain sight just in case he needed it in a pinch when there was a runaway mudblood. “You know what they call me back at the office?” There it was! No one who had eyes could've missed it, the way it was practically waiting for someone to grab it (and if Tobias was here, he'd have done it already). Unfortunately, as she went over everything she'd learned from Tobias, Willy came closer and she definitely wasn't imagining the smell that emanated from him. Her face contorted in slight disgust, smoothed over only just barely at the end. She needed to stay close if she wanted to steal the wand. "No," she said, through a clenched smile. "What is it?" Her hand reached out slowly, just as she'd practiced with Tobias. Oblivious tended to be Willy’s default setting. So caught up was he in the woman’s smile and cute nose (Willy had a thing for noses) he missed her hand movements as he flexed an arm forward. “I’ve heard people calling me the greasemaster because I’m so slick.” He winked then, and pressed his arm to Francine’s shoulder. “Wanna go grab a trough at Shovel & Meat, beautiful?” The full body shudder that occurred when Willy touched her shoulder could not have been stopped, even if she had tried. It was a reaction that would've resonated with anyone. As fast as she could, Francine grabbed his wand and slipped it up her sleeve, pulling away from Willy sharply and suddenly. "Oh! I forgot! My phone's ringing!" It wasn't. "I've gotta go! Maybe next time!" Without waiting for his answer, she turned on her heel and sped off, feeling triumphant, in both the capture of his wand and the escape from his attentions. Bewildered at the sudden turn of events and how his flirting somehow fell flat, Willy frowned again. His desperate pleas of “Wait, I’ll buy you a poison candle!” fell on deaf ears as the woman retreated into the crowd of pedestrians. Francine’s victim was none the wiser of her actions. |