Seamus Finnigan (approbation) wrote in icb, @ 2016-01-03 20:35:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, char: megan jones, char: seamus finnigan |
Dec 15, 2005 (Backdated)
Characters: Megan Jones & Seamus Finnigan
Setting: 7pm | Dec 15, 2005 | Hog’s Head (backdated)
Summary: After this | Megan has some Ministry insights. Seamus is grumpy.
The last few days had been…. shite. Seamus Finnigan had only slept a total of fifteen hours over the span of four days. Between caring for an orphaned infant and investigating Susan’s death… there wasn’t enough time to sleep! Despite having downed another dose of Wake-Me-Up potion the twenty-something looked beat as he entered the Hog’s Head a little before 7pm. The gathering of drinkers was small per usual and Seamus was glad to find the booth in the farthest corner of the place empty. He greeted Abe with a nod and a request for a pitcher of beer and two glasses before settling himself into the booth. Megan had needed to change, mostly because she’d still been in uniform when she’d messaged Seamus. Somehow, she didn’t think he’d be keen on seeing anyone in Ministry regalia right now, even her. So she’d headed home, thrown on the first thing she’d found in her closet, and hightailed it to the Hogs Head. She didn’t quite trust her ability to apparate, and she was out of floo powder. She made it at 7 p.m. on the dot and found him in the corner, dropping into the seat without ceremony. “Oh good, you’ve ordered,” she said, pouring herself a glass out of the pitcher that had been delivered. Seamus offered a halfhearted smirk at her arrival. He’d always appreciated Megan’s ability to be direct in all situations. “So,” he pointed his glass to her, “What’s the occasion? Are you finally quitting the Ministry gig and joining the good side?” “Seamus,” she said, a mild rebuke in her tone. She took a swallow of the beer to fortify herself, then set it aside. “You ought to be glad you still know someone in the Ministry. Who else would tell you you’re the primary suspect in the Bones/Towler murder?” Seamus’ smirk disappeared. She leaned against the table, keeping her voice low so people couldn’t overhear them.. “Seamus, what is going on? I know you didn’t do it, but your prints are all over the scene.” “Is this a trick?” he asked a defensive tone present, “Cause it’s not funny, Jones.” A particular frustration rose in his throat and he didn’t let Megan answer. “Why the fuck would I kill Susan?” “I said I know you didn’t do it!” Megan snapped. “That doesn’t change the fact that your prints are everywhere.” She chewed on her lower lip. “Look, I know you don’t like the Ministry, but please - don’t fight them just to fight them this time. You’re in serious shit unless you’ve got an explanation they’ll buy.” “Why haven’t they made a move then?” He asked with an indignant shrug and gesture of his hand. “It’s been almost a whole week. If they’re so damn sure it was me - where are they? Hm?” Despite his outward frustration with the warning there was a very heavy feeling of disaster looming in the pit of his stomach. His brain distinctly recalled the fact that he hadn’t cleared his prints in the kids room or upstairs. It was the only place he’d touched anything. “I don’t know,” she said, picking up the beer again just to stare at it. “I only heard that much because they didn’t know I’d come back in the room. Too many people know we’re friends. And I was friends with Susan; that means I’m automatically off the case.” She glanced up at him. “I’m not trying to get answers out of you for them, Seamus. I’m worried, okay? You know I’d get in trouble for telling you any of this.” He clenched his teeth and sat a moment in silence. He gave a glance to the room. Looking back at her he picked up his glass. “Well, even if you are, it sure as fuck wasn’t me.” His tone was harsh before he drank down a few large gulps of the amber beverage. “Look,” he added as he placed the glass down on the table and settled into the table - his arms crossed on the surface. “I’ve been doing some work on the case myself. And you lot need to be looking for someone with death eater history...or leanings. I haven’t figured it all out yet - and I know it sounds fucking crazy...but… it’s the only lead that’s made sense.” She winced a little, giving him an unhappy look. “You’ve got to leave this one alone.” She reached across the table to grasp his arm. “Get someone else to work on the case if you have to, but you have to leave it alone. Anything you’re caught doing, it’s going to look like you’re trying to cover something up.” Seamus felt a little betrayed at her plea. His brow furrowed and he pulled away from her hand, “I’m not leaving this to a bunch of twits gathering a paycheck, alright? Susan was one of us - she deserves justice. And anyone who’s daft enough to think I fucking murdered her and her family shouldn’t be on the case at all.” Megan sighed, her mouth scrunching together a bit at one side as she tried not to be too annoyed with him. “I know you’re not about leaving your emotions out of things, but try to for a moment. If you didn’t know anyone involved in this, wouldn’t your first suspect be the bloke whose prints were at the scene? Especially if he started turning up and poking around afterward?” She sighed, topping off her glass. “If you could say why you were there, you would have done it already and we wouldn’t be having this argument. I know that. But if you don’t leave this case to the Ministry, you’re going to end up in jail, and you can’t do anything there for Susan.” “I can’t just sit around and wait for the Ministry to decide to arrest the wrong person…” he offered in slow response. He tried to hide the emotion she’d pointed out - but his upper lip curled as if the thought was visibly disgusting. “Is that what you’d have me do?” he asked her, “Sit around at home until the Ministry comes knocking. Let them turn me into some sort of scapegoat?” He shook his head at her, “I don’t understand how you can be so passive about this…” Seamus looked at her with a particular disbelief at what she was suggesting. “No. I’d have you figure out a way to explain yourself while still protecting whatever the hell it is you’re protecting,” Megan countered. She heaved another sigh, propping her chin up on one hand as she studied him. “I sneaked a look at the file later, after they all stopped talking about it in front of me. Your prints were all in the nursery. And Susan, her father, and cousin were the only ones found.” Seamus’ tongue ran over his top row of teeth and he pursed his lips. “What are you trying to say?” he asked before finishing off his glass. Placing his cup back down he moved immediately to the pitcher and focused very distinctly on filling his cup. “I visited a few days before. Susan showed me the nursery.” “And yet you didn’t immediately offer that explanation for the presence of your prints at the crime scene,” Megan pointed out dryly, arching an eyebrow at him. “Seamus, you can’t lie to me. I sincerely hope you’re better at hiding it during your investigations than you are with me.” She reached out again, this time just touching his wrist to try to get him to look at her. “Hey. I understand if you’re protecting the baby. I even get why you don’t want to tell me. But getting your ass thrown in jail isn’t going to help you with that, either.” He stared at her hand on his wrist for a long beat taking in what she’d said word for word. He finally looked up at the woman and said. “I appreciate your concern. But I don’t have the kid.” He lied a lot better than the first time. Though really he wasn’t lying - Finch-Fletchley had the kid in that very moment. And as much as he wanted to trust Megan… he couldn’t jeopardize the Ministry using her to get a confession off of him. Plus, now that he thought about it…. it was all very convenient that she was warning him of the Ministry. And informing him that she knew the kid was alive. He couldn’t be too certain this was Megan Jones at all. So, he made sure to add, “And I didn’t kill anybody.” Megan rolled her eyes at him. “It’s me, you idiot. But if you really want proof… Remember that time you got so smashed you managed to lose your trousers, and the other guys thought it would be hilarious to let me convince your landlord to give me your key? I think he’s convinced to this day you were getting a really early start.” Seamus couldn’t help but smirk at the memory. He’d managed to sell his trousers to an equally drunk bloke for 3 galleons that night. Regardless of how ridiculous he might have looked to his landlord - he had clearly won in that situation. The little smirk that inevitably developed when she recounted embarrassing stories faded again. “I already said I get why you can’t tell me. And I’m better than you at keeping a straight face, so don’t worry about me and the hitwizards. But seriously, Seamus, I don’t know what else I can say to convince you to be careful.” “Look,” he offered setting aside the walk down memory lane as he took a quick drink. “I’ll be careful. But I’m not promising to drop my leads. And I’m not lying low till the Ministry decides to act.” A gentle head tilt was offered to her, “You of all people know this isn’t the first time they’ve suspected me of something I didn’t. You don’t have to worry - it always works out in the end.” She hadn’t held out a ton of hope that she’d convince him to drop it. At least he seemed to be taking her warning to heart, though. “I’m just worried that one of these times it won’t,” she said. She took another swallow of the beer. “I’ll keep my ears open, but I can’t promise I’ll hear anything else. Like I said, too many people know we’re friends. And work on your poker face.” Seamus offered a smirk as he raised his glass to his mouth, “Fine, I'll work on my poker face. Okay?” |