This was almost too entertaining. Since she was accustomed to being around Artemis, knew the girl's character, there was likely little real reason for her to be scared. She knew Artemis' character, her values, and had yet to find fault. Still, there it was, that sotto voce of tension beginning to unfurl, humming around them, making the still night around them seem positively frozen. She could draw it out. They could continue down this path, stretching out the line of questions and hints for days if it suited her, but guessing games were tedious. Panic was hardly desireable.
She wasn't hungry for fear. She wanted Artemis to understand, keen to believe Artemis would be able to appreciate the reality of her company rather than the illusion. There wasn't even any reason for someone to begrudge her the illusion. On the one hand she was all that remained of Kastra Yaxley, and on the other, well, she was infamous. Secrecy was an unavoidable component of her life. If Artemis responded poorly, unexpectedly, dramatically, there were certainly a variety of options. If at all possible, it was her desire to avoid the most extreme, as that would be little short of a total waste.
"I think we've come to the time when you no longer need to call me Kastra," her voice quiet, nearly teasing as her eyes held to the other's.
Under the layers of cloak her fingers found the silver chain beneath her blouse. As soon as the clasp was free, locket tumbling into her concealed grasp, she felt her body stretching and curving back to its proper state. Darkening tresses pushed free of its pinnings as it lengthened. Well now her clothes were too tight in certain places, no doubt her skirt too short, but at least in inequities were still comfortably hidden.
Her features probably weren't quite the ones the rest of the world remembered of Bellatrix Black- or Lestrange, as she was called in nearly every publication that referenced her. She had seen for herself how years in Azkaban had hollowed her features. For all the differences she could note, however, they were still her own eyes gazing back at her from books and newspapers. She had yet to come to a conclusion on how she felt about that. But thoughts turned back to the present, to the young woman beside her.