Who: Bill and Valentina (and Cicero, NPC) What: Bill takes a risk and visits an old potion's shop on Valentina's first day. When: Sept 4 Where: Potion's shop in Cardiff Warnings/Rating: None, low
It had been a long time since Bill Weasley had been to Cardiff.
He walked along the river for a few moments to test old memories before glancing over his shoulder, then turning and walking through a brick wall with a slight sigh. The wizarding side of the city greeted him, as swift and bustling as it ever was. It felt good, after a weekend of quiet mourning, to remind himself of the British life that he had once been so much a part of and planned to be again. But today, he was on a mission. It was the potions shop he was looking for and he hoped that he was far enough from Hogsmeade and London that he might safely wander in the street.
Fingering the wand in his pocket as he opened the door, he fought the urge to mutter a quick revealing charm. Don't make trouble where this is none.
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It was the first day of Valentina's apprenticeship, and it had already been marred by grief with Professor McGonagall's passing. A brief conversation with her mentor when she'd arrived had assured her that they would be closing up shop on Wednesday and both be attending the services on Hogwarts grounds in the late Professor's honor. She would have been beyond furious if she'd had to miss the services, even if she wasn't looking forward to the possibility of being around Ari again.
She heard the little bell above the door chime as someone came inside, and Val set the vial in her hand on the right shelf before heading around a corner to greet the customer. Her mentor had arranged for her to become familiar with his shop by doing stocking today, though he assured her that in due time she would be assisting him with brewing in the back. He also said that by the end of the month, he'd expect a well-drafted research proposition, and her mind was already spinning with ideas of things she wanted to research.
All of that was pushed away when she spotted the attractive bearded man with red hair and just enough scarring on his face that she found herself fascinated. What sort of stories did he hold? "Can I help you?" she asked him in a pleasant, friendly voice, attempting to channel a bit of Becca though it certainly wasn't her natural disposition.
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"Maybe." Bill hesitated. His eyes scanned the shelves, mentally cataloging what he saw. Most of his awareness of potions had to do with what not to touch--his memories of learning them in school had since rusted with lack of use. A long time ago, he'd haunted this shop, however, afraid that he would be forced to face a monster within.
He swallowed, then said, "I was wondering whether... well, there's a man who used to work here and I heard years ago that he was an expert in making potions that weren't commonly used."
The Ministry had come out in support of werewolves but Bill wasn't yet sure how far to test it. He looked at the woman in front of him, wondering what her personal beliefs were about that decision. Whether or not lycanthropes were supposed to be protected, people still had the right to their own opinions. He didn't think the Ministry had yet legislated that.
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He seemed a bit hesitant, slightly shifty then, and the hair on the back of Val's neck rose as her suspicions did. She hadn't interacted with many customers yet, and she didn't want to overreact in case he was just embarrassed by what he'd come here looking for. "Well, I'm not certain who used to work here, but Edmund Cicero has owned this shop for nearly thirty years," she replied. Her mentor would certainly fit the description of someone who was an expert at brewing uncommon potions though.
"A lot of the rarer potions don't have a lengthy shelf life, though, so I'm not sure you'll be able to find what you're looking for on the shelves. Did you need to speak with him or were you looking to purchase a potion today?" Edmund was in the back working on a complex potion and had requested to not be disturbed for another thirty minutes or so, she realized with a glance at the clock.
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"A long time ago, I was in here and spoke to him," Bill said, pausing again to formulate the words. "I wanted...wolfsbane. He said he knew someone."
He sighed now that the request was out. Cicero had been kind to him then, even after it turned out that Bill had no need for his services. It was easier, he reflected, to deal with this woman than it would have been to ask the potions maker. If Cicero remembered him, he'd undoubtedly question why Bill was now asking for the potion again. Remus would kill you if he knew you were doing this, Bill thought with a small grin. But maybe there's something that would make the funeral possible for him.
He glanced at her, then said, "I was hoping that something was out there that acted quickly."
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Her eyes widened a bit as realization set in. Wolfsbane, of course. No wonder he'd seemed a bit sketchy. Even with the Ministry's support, werewolves carried a bit of stigma with them. It would take time to overcome, but Val was hopeful. "Ahh, he does. Yeah, of course. He worked closely with Damocles on some of the early trials for the wolfsbane potion," she explained. It was public knowledge, of course, so she didn't feel like she was betraying his trust or anything.
"Er, that would depend on how quickly? Wolfsbane has to be taken once a day for a week prior to the full moon, and that's in... just a couple of days, isn't it?" And if he was in fact a werewolf as it seemed he was, she had to wonder if the moon was already pulling at him. The wolfsbane potion was definitely one she wanted to study further, to dissect and possibly even improve upon.
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"That's what I was afraid of," he confided. Bill scratched his beard and watched her for a moment. He'd seen her eyes widen just a fraction when he asked--was it fear or curiosity?
He folded his arms and took a step back to avoid catching the scent of her. His senses were easily teased this close to the moon and he didn't want to risk being more reckless than he'd originally planned. Focusing on the other aromas in the room, he breathed, practically tasting lavender and sage on his tongue. "Any chance this is something you keep in stock?"
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When he took a step back, she frowned faintly. Had she done something wrong? She really didn't want to lose Edmund a client on her first day. Or ever, but that wasn't the point. "Hmm, he might have some in stock since we're in the week before the full moon, but it's not something I'd have access to. He's indisposed at the moment, but he should be available in about a half hour," she explained.
"You're welcome to wait, if you'd like," she offered.
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"Maybe for a minute," he said. "I'd like to peruse the rest of your stock." Whatever the Ministry's tolerance, Bill wasn't sure whether or not registration was required to obtain the potion. Cicero, he thought he could talk into slipping it to him but he wasn't sure about the shop assistant.
His eyes fell on the counter, to a battered old book sitting there. Without thinking, he picked it up, lightly stroking the cover before he opened it. Like so many of his father's books, the pages didn't turn of their own accord and that in and of itself brought a delighted smile to his face. "Keats. I hadn't thought about him for ages till someone reminded me of him the other day. What's this doing here?"
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"All right then," Val said, willing to leave him be while he did that. There were plenty of precautions in place to keep people from shoplifting, so she knew she didn't need to keep a close eye on him if he didn't need help with anything.
She was about to go back to her stocking duty when he spoke again, clearly having found her book on the counter. Her cheeks flushed a bit. "Oh, uhh, it's mine. I always thought Professor McGonagall would have been a fan of Keats. In fact, I'm certain I spotted one behind her desk at least once, so I found my old copy and have been reacquainting myself with it since the news came," she admitted. She wondered if he was the one she'd talked to on the journal the other night, if she'd been the one to remind him of Keats.
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"You--did we talk the other night?" He lifted his head up from the pages. "In the journals?"
He looked a little startled. There was a part of him that tended to quietly relegate his late night mutterings to just that. But now, here he was faced with a woman he didn't know who might remember a few of those careless words.
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"Uh, I think we might have," she answered, feeling the hair raise on the back as realization set in. "You're Bill Weasley," she observed. And the Weasley's were a complicated family on both sides of the conflict between rebels and Ministry. She wasn't sure where Bill fell on that spectrum, though his sister was engaged to the Minister, so perhaps he was supportive. If he was a rebel, would he really chance coming here?
"I'm Valentina," she introduced herself. "Valentina Proudfoot." The daughter of wandholder Max Proudfoot, but maybe he wouldn't know that. He'd just moved back from France recently, she recalled seeing him post though she hadn't read everyone's commentary on that. She was now wishing she had.
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He fought the urge to freeze and instead let his features slide into an easy grin. "That's right. What gave it away--the hair? It makes it bloody hard to go anywhere in this country without being recognized. Especially when my sister's marrying the Minister." Bill lied with his smile a second time, widening it on the word "marrying."
You stepped in this one. Time for an exit plan. He could feel his skin prickling ever so slightly as he set down the book and offered his hand to her, forcing it to remain steady. "Glad to meet you, Valentina. Not just your books."
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He was charming, Val thought at that smile his lips curved into. And the easy way he spoke about his sister being engaged to the Minister was reassuring. Maybe he wasn't one of the rebels then? She let out a soft amused sound and shrugged slightly. "The red hair was the first clue, but it was definitely the soft spot for Keats that gave you away," she answered honestly.
Though she wasn't typically the most graceful with social cues, she managed to step forward and take his offered hand. "You too, Bill." He was even more attractive up close, but she was trying not to let it show that she thought so.
📖
He held her hand for no longer than was polite. The fear that Greyback had instilled in him the day of the attack lingered far beyond any social convention and there were too many small things about Valentina to notice--the slight darkening of her pupils, the soft skin of her palm. Lavender, sage, and darker herbs tingled in his senses from being close to her. She was no simple shop assistant, Bill noted, not with that lingering smell.
And that makes her useful. He rebuked himself almost immediately for thinking it but it was the truth.
"It's a soft spot for poetry in general, I'm afraid. I like poems--they're all puzzles, you see," Bill said. He took another step back, smiling.
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She didn't really want him to step back, but she didn't follow either. She was determined to carry herself professionally, to make sure Edmund didn't have any reason to regret taking her on as his apprentice. "Yeah? They really are. People don't often realize that," she replied.
And it made her want to talk to him more. There'd been plenty of intellectuals around her at school, being a Ravenclaw, but few of them had appreciated poetry whereas she tended to enjoy reading anything she could get her hands on. Her passions were definitely academic, but as he'd said, poems were like puzzles, and that appealed to her on a deeper level. "I hope they'll read some at the funeral. Will you be attending?" Though if he was really a werewolf and hadn't been taking the wolfsbane potion the last few days, it probably wouldn't be safe for him to go.
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"I'm planning on it. Minerva meant a lot to my family, especially my youngest brother." Bill wondered if he should have mentioned Ron but let it go. He was a Weasley--she was already going to make her assumptions accordingly. But that didn't mean he had to allude to the amnesty.
There was a part of him telling him to run but another part of him resisted. After all of the tense conversations with his siblings and worrying over the things that he had left behind in France, this conversation seemed innocuous in comparison. Valentina wasn't giving him any signs that she intended to turn him over to the government. He wondered whether he dared show himself anywhere now...as the thought came to his mind, he found himself glancing around the counter for stray hairs.
"I may have been one of the few Weasleys who actually listened to her...most of the time. Well, me and my brother Percy," he amended. "We're an unruly lot, for the most part. Were you cursed with going to school with any of us?" He hoped he could pull a little history from her. It might prove useful later.
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"Well yes, of course, you said as much the other night," she reminded him. "I just meant, well... is it safe, with your... condition?" she asked as delicately as she could, which really wasn't terribly delicate at all. She didn't consider herself prejudiced against werewolves, but she did try to be realistic, and there was a very real danger if one wasn't taking the wolfsbane potion, which he clearly wasn't if he was coming here looking for it.
When he spoke about his family, she couldn't help smiling faintly. It was clear even in the journals that they were a close lot, though strained in some areas from the war and the current division. "Oh, well, there was some overlap with the twins, Ron, and Ginny," she recalled with a lot more ease than if he'd been asking after any other family. The twins had be notorious, and her first year had been their last. She still remembered that swamp they'd unleashed in the Entrance Hall, not to mention the fireworks. She didn't want to tell him her exact age though, lest he think of her as a child like some people seemed to do when they learned she was only eighteen.
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He laughed, though there was a false note in it as he again touched the beard that covered those scars. "I don't have that condition...at least not now. There was a time when I thought I might." Realizing where her thoughts might lead, Bill added, "And I like to keep track of what to do in case my injuries ever evolve. It's the cursebreaker in me. Preparing for trouble where there isn't any."
Looking at her, Bill wondered how old she was but discarded the thought. She was old enough to be mixing potions with Cicero so his guess was that Valentina wasn't exactly just out of school. "Everyone remembers the twins. I wonder what kind of things will be attributed to them in the future. My guess is that they've already turned into the bogeys that haunt the dreams of ickle first years."
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At his response, she relaxed a bit. It was a relief that he wouldn't be putting people at risk by coming to the funeral. "You're a cursebreaker?" she asked, her expression brightening at the thought. She'd never gotten to pick the brain of a cursebreaker before, and she was sure she'd be able to come up with a long list of questions for him if given time to think. "But your scars... if you haven't developed lycanthropy from it yet, do you really think it's possible you might?" She found the whole concept fascinating and wondered if there was research into it all. She made a mental note to look it up later.
When he pondered what might be attributed to the twins in the future, her expression turned a little less friendly. "Well, they aren't exactly upstanding citizens these days. I know they deny it, but what happened at the festival this summer... it was awful," she said softly. She'd been lucky to not be in the thick of it because she'd sneaked off to be with Ari. Plus there was that whole thing with Ivy, which she was still not wanting to know more about.
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"Oh?" His eyebrow raised. "I'm afraid I haven't caught up with them. What happened?"
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She found it hard to believe he hadn't heard what had happened at the festival, but she couldn't remember if he'd talked to either of the twins on the journals; she just hadn't paid that close of attention to his journal postings. But, she rather thought she'd take a look when she got a chance. "They used their fireworks as explosives. It took engulfed the ferris wheel, killed ten people and injured dozens more," she told him, her lips turned down in a frown.
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His mouth tightened.
"It's hard to believe that was their intent," he said, fighting to calm down. He wasn't fighting a battle here. Bill took a moment, and a long breath, then added, "But there's a lot of things that changed while I was overseas. It's what happens when you've got a big family...years away feel like lifetimes." He hoped that the woman wasn't writing him as a rebel in her mind just yet.
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Val wasn't sure what she was thinking just yet. Her suspicions about him were rising, but even if she did want to contact the wandholders, she wasn't sure what he might do, and considering he was apparently a cursebreaker, she was sure he'd be quicker with a wand than she was. She wasn't at the point of thinking that would be an issue, not yet. "I wouldn't know what that's like," she admitted with a small shrug. She didn't have anywhere near as large a family as he did. "And I can't speak to their motives, but they do seem very angry." And angry people sometimes did terrible things.
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"Yeah, you're right. It was so different when we were children. They were terrors but never mean about it." Bill shrugged his shoulders. He needed to soothe her and he wasn't convinced he'd manage it. The tension in the room was coming at him in waves. "Hope you'll excuse me if I tell you that talking about my family right now just makes my head hurt."
That part, at least, was the truth.
His hand ached for his wand but he repressed the urge. Instead, he said, "I'm more worried about seeing if the goblins kept my job at Gringotts, to be honest. They weren't happy with me for leaving." More lies but at least there was a kernel of truth to these.
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From what she had caught on the journals, she could understand why it might make his head hurt. "Then we won't talk about them," she replied with a small shrug of her shoulders. She was wishing she'd kept an eye on the list of rebels the wandholders released, but so far she didn't feel threatened by him, so she was going to try to relax. He could be a good client for Cicero, after all.
"Hmm, I don't think the goblins are terribly generous with that sort of thing. But I'm not sure how many skilled cursebreakers are looking for jobs, so you could be in luck." She went around the counter and hopped up to sit on the stool behind it, tugging her copy of Keats to her. "It shouldn't be too much longer until Cicero can talk to you." And it couldn't hurt for her to take a break, she thought.
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"Oh, they're not. But I've got a few mates there and gold talks. I certainly brought in enough of it over the years." The memory brought warmth to his voice, as he recalled the warm winds and desert sands of distant places. He missed that life and he wasn't fool enough not to recognize that appeal in the rebellion he had joined.
"There aren't that many cursebreakers around as far as I know." Bill chuckled. "I remember when I told my uncle Bilius my career choice, he told me to stop fooling myself and to go be an Auror."
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"That it does," she agreed easily. She'd seen it in action a few times in her life, though her father had tried not to spoil her and her siblings too much. But they'd still had nice things. "But I didn't think goblins made friends," she quipped with a quirk of her lips.
Her eyebrows rose at the mention of Aurors. Her dad had been one before the war, though that sort of work had never appealed to her. "But you didn't," she pointed out, filling in the obvious there. "How did you get involved in cursebreaking? I mean, where did you study?" There was a glint in her eyes then, that curiosity and thirst for knowledge that was as ingrained in her as breathing.
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"I started on the bottom rung at Gringotts. There was an old wizard who'd had the job for years--Mounce, his name was--and Merlin, he was an odd sort. Anyhow I guess I just managed to get under his skin enough that he took me on." Bill said. "He died a year later while in Peru and the goblins agreed to give me a chance."
He gestured at the shop. "What about yourself? Potions jobs don't just fall from the sky either, unless I've been mistaken."
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Val couldn't help smiling as he explained how he'd got into cursebreaking. It was a lucky thing, though of course his mentor dying and only a year into it was a sad thing, but it was still an interesting story. "You're lucky they kept you on." The goblins were known for their high standards, so either Bill was that good or there weren't any other qualified applicants.
"Oh no, Cicero hasn't taken on an apprentice in... a very long time," she agreed. "But my potion's professor sent a very persuasive letter of recommendation and got him to read some of my research papers, so here I am. It's not easy to get an apprenticeship with someone as accomplished as Cicero; I'm very lucky." Which didn't mean she hadn't put in a lot of work toward it; she had, but she could recognize where she'd had help getting here.
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"Ah, but you'd be surprised how far a goblin will go to squeeze a Galleon. It's practically legendary." He grinned, forgetting for a moment the risk that the conversation held.
"Is this your end goal then? Making potions, running a shop someday?" Bill moved just a little closer, reaching out to touch one of the sample vials on the counter between them. It shimmered faintly underneath the warmth of his hand.
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It was, she couldn't argue that at all. And then he asked about her end goal, and her lips stretched in a wider smile. "Oh no, not running a shop. I want to be involved in research and development. I want to improve existing potions, like the wolfsbane, I've always been fascinated by that one, but also create new potions. For all we already can accomplish with magic, there's still so much more we could do," she said, some of her passion for the topic.
She wasn't necessarily a philanthropist about it though; it wasn't really for the good of their world, it was for the challenge, that thirst for knowledge and understanding and accomplishment. But if it also made their world a better place, then all the better.
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"And so much we once knew that could be rediscovered," he countered, fire in his eyes. "Imagine if we knew how to interpret all of the scrolls found in the City of the Magicians or if we could understand why the Etruscan wizards prophesied their own disappearance."
Bill realized that he was once again speaking from a life lived partially in tombs and stopped. "It's an admirable goal. Particularly the wolfsbane part of it." His mouth quirked.
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Val leaned forward on the counter as he spoke, her eyebrows raising, both surprised and impressed. "You've been to the City of the Magicians?" she asked. The very thought of it made him even more attractive to her, but then she'd learned with Ari that talking about academia, about history and magical theory, was a sure way to get her worked up in the best of ways. "Have you seen the scrolls?"
She chuckled softly at his comment, shrugging one shoulder a bit. "If I could have, I'd have been Damocles's apprentice, but he's never taken one on. And Cicero worked closely with him, so I figure if there's anyone else that could give me the right foundation to springboard from, it's him. But I thought you'd appreciate the wolfsbane thing. It's just such a complex potion; it's fascinating."
The door behind her opened then, an older wizard coming through it, pushing a pair of glasses up his nose as he did. "You'd have hated working with Damocles, Valentina. A ruddy bastard, he is," Cicero spoke, affection in his tone rather than the derision the words might have implied. He looked up at Bill then, recognition lighting in his eyes a moment later. "Ahh, Mr. Weasley, I didn't expect to see you again."
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"I have," Bill said. "Spent a good part of my career in Egypt actually even though I think it's been more picked over than other places. The goblins, however, disagree."
Her enthusiasm was infectious and so he kept talking to keep pace with her questions. "I found scrolls but never had the time to study them. They're likely in the vaults with everything else--I've really never entirely known what happened to all of the items I retrieved."
Cicero's presence quieted him again as Bill examined the other man. He wanted to believe that somehow Cicero had stayed neutral in the current conflict but given how others were reacting, he didn't believe it possible.
"Hello, sir," he held out his hand for a shake. "It's good to see you again. I came to find out more about the wolfsbane potion. I was hoping that there had been advancements. In my line of work, I'm concerned with some of the risks I've taken." Bill smiled easily, as if risk was no concern to him at all.
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The sigh that left her was entirely wistful. The exploration part didn't appeal much to her, but examining the recovered artifacts and scrolls was something she could see herself loving. She groaned softly at the thought that they might be hidden away in a vault, though. That was a travesty, in her opinion. She'd been just about to reply when her mentor arrived, and she glanced at him with a small smile.
Cicero shook the offered hand briefly before tilting his head at the man. "Ahh, unfortunately there's not been any real advancement on it, though hopefully in time there will be." He knew who Bill Weasley was and what list he was on, but Cicero had been careful to stay neutral in the current political climate and didn't want to alert his apprentice to the situation. Better for all involved if Bill went on his way and let him get back to his work. "Is there anything else I can help you with, though?"
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"No, afraid not." Bill sensed a hint of unease in the other man's words. "I've already stayed longer than I should have. But I appreciate the update. And the company."
He smiled at Valentina. Maybe she'll help someday when Cicero won't.
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Valentina could try to deny that she was disappointed that Bill was, apparently, leaving, but it wouldn't work. She could lie to others when she needed to, but lying to herself was a bit more of a challenge. "It was good to meet you in person, Bill." Would he think it weird if she wrote to him on the journals? She had so many more questions about his work in Egypt. It had nothing to do with the warmth she felt when she looked at him. Really.
"Of course," Cicero said with a small nod, wandering off to check on the stocking Val had been working on. She was adept, but his shop was too important not to double-check her work, particularly in these early stages.
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"You too," he said, watching Cicero out of one eye. Bill gave them both a quick nod, then walked to the front door. Let's hope he hasn't signaled the Ministry somehow. It wasn't likely but Bill didn't think that the paranoia of others was completely unfounded. He wondered what the old man would tell Valentina after he left.
He put his hand in his pocket before taking his first step outside, hoping that the old man hadn't signaled the Ministry. When nothing happened after opening the door, he continued on his way, walking normally toward a nearby alley.