the little king (lepetitroi) wrote in solemnly_sworn, @ 2011-08-05 01:44:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | character: regulus black, character: severus snape, player: rabs, player: sheli |
Who: Regulus Black & Severus Snape
What: Copious amounts of snark as they discuss their task of working together.
When: [Backdated] Wednesday, 8pm
Where: Severus' Laboratory
Rating: TBD
Status: Incomplete
Regulus was finding that as of late he was doing things that he really had no interest in doing--and this was the second time he had agreed to be somewhere and seriously contemplated not going. But the difference between this time and the previous was all a matter of the reason and the players involved. Before it had simply been his estranged brother looking to converse and mend, this time around it had been Bellatrix instructing him to meet with Severus Snape who would (most unfortunately) act as his mentor of sorts. Apparently he had not met the kill quota for the month.
Actually, he hadn't met it at all, period; he'd never killed. Hadn't even maimed or injured, really. He had no reason to. No one expected it of him, not until now anyhow. Now all of a sudden his cousin was putting the pressure on and he had to impress.
After he had loosely crafted some vaguely believable excuse for his mother, Regulus slid on his coat and left the house with ample time so that he would arrive at the agreed upon setting exactly at eight. When he had been given the address he had almost complained, but Regulus realized that he'd probably be asked to suggest a spot (and coupled with Bellatrix's words of warning) he decided to keep his mouth shut on the matter. At least that was the plan until he got there, once he had arrived it was another matter completely--his brows furrowed, his lips curled back and his shoulders stiffened immediately. "Ech. Filthy." He hissed through clenched teeth, examining the surrounding area.
Initially he had thought of knocking, it was the polite thing to do, but that would require touching the door, and Regulus had already deemed the place beneath him. So, instead, he cleared his throat and kicked at the door. However, it had only made a pathetic thud and, after several just-as-pathetic attempts, he begrudgingly removed his hand from his pocket and rapped his knuckles soundly against the door followed by a swift and near obsessive wiping of his hand against the outside of his coat.