Regulus Black has a tassel in his pocket (applefromvine) wrote in traintickets, @ 2011-06-19 22:31:00 |
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Entry tags: | mars mulciber, regulus black |
Who: Regulus Black and Mars Mulciber
What: Two manipulative souls meet in a bar
When: 11pm 6/19/1980
Where: Blue Street Bar
Regulus Black organized bar tables. It wasn’t with the nervous, hurried, movements of the year before but more controlled. Bar napkins placed into diamonds in mirrored positions. Salt and pepper placed directly in the center of the cracked bar table. The small bowl of pretzels placed carefully between the two. His glass was wet so he drew his finger across the condensation in a careful pattern—all diagonals and straight lines. In the middle his hand jerked so he stopped and picked up the salt instead, twisting it between his fingers. He didn't touch the capped beer he had bought for Mars.
After the last few uncomfortable bar meetings he had arranged he should have known not to bother coming early but some habits were hard to change. Not coming early would have meant he couldn’t have arranged himself so that he could see the door to the bar clearly and he would have likely come in so full of nerves Mars would have had the advantage. Being prepared was Regulus’ biggest comfort. If he was prepared, he wouldn’t shake too much and he wouldn’t fumble.
Manipulating Mars for his own good would be difficult enough without sliding into partial hysteria which he had used to his disadvantage in almost every meeting with former family since his betrayal(excluding the time he cut off Evan's fingers but including his first meeting with Sirius in over a year). He was lucky that Narcissa was unlikely to ever admit meeting him while fighting a bought of morning sickness. Rambling about her dying with skinned hands significantly lessened the impressiveness of surviving a vampire castle filled with Death Eaters.
Regulus glanced back up at the door and saw another old man come in—his hair was gray and curling around his temples. He noticed the wide flat noes and turned his attention away. Not a Death Eater he recognized. His stomach twisted and he popped the top off the saltshaker so he could pour it out on the lacquered table and push it into straight lines.