“I am certainly no filthy Muggle.” He could imagine the flinch that came from Logan when he said that, but since he was no longer gracing him with his sight, he did not actually see his body shake. Logan’s well being was of little to no importance to him, for he could always be disposed of and replaced in the blink of an eye. He was nothing special, and had only been grabbed by the young Dark Lord because of his knowledge when it came to their rumored ‘fictional’ universe.
He moved himself closer to her through the rain and the Muggle stayed where he was, too frightened to flee but not knowing whether or not he was to follow. “You knowing me would depend on who you are.” He knew that she was a witch, could see that even though he hadn’t received any verbal indication to reveal it. Something about her regal posture, something about her face, reminded him of the Blacks and he could almost say that she was one of them.
His wand was held down at his side, so much like the wand that belonged to the boy who would become his enemy, in another time, in a whole different world. His eyes were tame when he looked at her, his lips far from being pulled back into a sneer or a snarl. He almost appeared normal, very unlike the monster that he would become.