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Pandora Montgomery (pandacharms) wrote in finnigans_rpg,

Dora slumped back into her seat a little, her changeable eyes shifting color a bit. He'd hit part of it, at least, on the head, and it discomfitted her to a great degree. She spoke of none of it to anyone. She bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to bleed to keep the irrational anger at that at bay. "The shop does well. I've not seen the books in a while but we're not in debt, and there are always custom jobs." More since she'd come on board. "I'd have to go to her house to look again though."

If anyone else spoke to her like that, her hackles would be all sorts of up. But she owed him too much and besides, he wasn't threatening her. "I didn't care, not really." Her voice, if he could hear it, held a brittle edge. She'd utterly lost it, lost it enough that she'd enjoyed to an extent the one thing she hadn't before. She sighed and rubbed a hand over her eyes, shielding them for a moment like others might put a hand over their ears, and gathered her thoughts. "I'm not saying no," she started. "But you know I owe you everything already." Her life, her freedom. He'd managed to give her both when she'd thought they were impossible. "How can I repay that, let alone more?" As it stood, he'd earned her loyalty and that was no easy feat.

She chuckled softly. "Darling, I want to kill most people at some point," she told him, amused. "I know as a beginner you could take me apart. But I'll improve and give you a challenge someday." A promise of sorts, that. She might could take him on the dueling field a portion of the time, but with the sword? Not a chance yet.

She watched the way he tossed back another drink, very familiar with that method of self medication. She motioned to the server for one herself, though she hoped to limit herself to just the one. "I have your back," she told him seriously, though her lips were still quirked from the rougherPuff comment. His killer comment was met only with complacency, though anyone else would have pissed her off the edge. He wasn't criticizing the part of her everyone reviled. She was much like her mother; in her, at least, the Lestrange blood did run. "You think bringing yours up might help?" She ventured quietly. She'd be willing to listen, at least. Gods knew she couldn't judge.