InsaneJournal

There were just... so many Fabian didn't want to turn up and sit down at his table.  Lestrange, for one.  Black the younger, for another.  Really, Death Eaters in general.  Definitely not Grindelwald, that would only be terribly awkward.  Oh, God, and not Albus Dumbledore.  That would just be terrible.  Fenrir-- actually, no, Fabian reckoned he could have himself an amusing evening.  Well, amusing for him, not so much for Fenrir, probably.

It was in Fabian's nature to turn up early.  Okay, so maybe socially he would qualify as punctual, but this wasn't exactly a social outing.  Well, it was, but Fabian usually liked to pick those on his own.  Or.  You know.  Just wait for them to turn up at his door.

Maybe he was too early.  Because then he got bored with the waiting.  Boredom, for a Prewett, was a dangerous thing.  Too many opportunities.  Too much space and time to let his mind wander to places it Ought Not.  Especially lately.  He was normally better about letting thoughts of Gideon slip through his mind along with all the rest.  Maybe it was because now they snagged at proper memories instead of constructions. 

Fabian pulled his pack of cigarettes from his back pocket.  Part of him kind of wished he'd bought the muggle sort.  He really did miss the ritual of a lighter.  Still, smoking was enough of an occupation for the moment-- even if he was mapping out the room in his head for the fourth time.