Who: T and Angela (as Emil and Thatcher, respectively) What: underground black market deal going down, yo. When: Friday evening. Where: a Muggle pub. Warnings: TBA Status: Incomplete
With the exception of April fifth -- which was always an exception, every year -- Terrence had been in an excellent mood since he and Ella had turned their backs on the Dark Lord and taken a real stand against them. Rebellion, it was what he lived for, what he'd spent his whole life doing. He had forgotten how good it felt: and it felt better now than it had done when he'd stood up to his parents, because he had never been afraid of Voldemort. He was truly, utterly, defiant - and happy, for the first time in a while. He'd enjoyed a full week of vacation with Ella, even though things were definitely going down in the world he'd left behind, and he was getting information through the grapevine, trickling down to him from various sources. Most interestingly, Potter, who apparently had some kind of connection to the Dark Lord that Terrence definitely had not expected.
He still considered himself on vacation, but the things Potter had said had made him think that they might need to be prepared to be back in the action sooner rather than later. Which, to Terrence, meant weapons. Hoarding anything that could be useful to them, so that they had it on hand whenever they needed it. He would have made a damn good boy scout.
That was why he was here, in the pub, disguised in a way he hadn't been for a while, and anticipating a visit from someone that said they could help him out. She was a new contact for him, which added a sense of danger and extra excitement to the situation. He reveled it, drinking and watching the pub around him for whoever it was that would be joining him. Nothing could bring down his mood right now.