millicent bulstrode will fuck you up (amalswinth) wrote in uprisingrpg, @ 2010-10-21 13:26:00 |
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Entry tags: | millicent bulstrode, terrence higgs |
Who: Millie and T (closed log)
What: the getting of information.
When: Thursday.
Where: Azkaban.
Warnings: Millie being Millie?
Status: Complete.
Millicent had just finished her rounds and taken a seat in the main guard office when the door opened. Seconds before, she had put her heavy boots up on the table and leaned back in the chair; with a little sigh, she sat forward again and placed her feet on the floor. She wasn't expecting any of the other guards to enter, so there was a high probability that it was one of her superiors, and she didn't want to accidentally appear to be insubordinate.
But it wasn't. It was the newest Marked Death Eater, walking in like he owned the place. A scowl appeared on Millicent's face.
"What do you want?" she asked brusquely. If the rookie was going to barge in here and interrupt her break time, he'd better have a damn good reason for it.
Terrence did have a reason for being here. Namely, he wanted to know what had happened to Katie's mother, since he'd offered to look into it. He wasn't in the best mood, because he wasn't exactly anticipating to find that Mrs. Bell was healthy and happy here, but he was hoping to find out that she was alive. As terrible a place as Azkaban was, at least life meant hope for change, that maybe she'd be able to get out at some point. Even if it wasn't for years to come.
Being met by Dementors and the prickly guard wasn't helping his mood - the Dementors were particularly bad, considering he had another couple of bad memories of his parents for them to dredge up since the last time he'd encountered them - but he grinned anyway. He could almost always summon a grin, just like he could laugh even when he was in unimaginable physical pain.
"Looking for someone," he said, laying both hands on the desk as he looked at Millicent. "One of your inmates. Got anyone with the last name Bell?"
"Nope," Millicent said, without hesitation. She probably would have said that even if it wasn't true, but she was certain of it. She tended to forget prisoners' names as soon as they died, but she always knew the names of each of the ones who were alive. Knew the names of each of their family members, too.
She could have asked why he wanted the information, but she didn't care. Instead she just glared at him, hands on her hips.
"Did you have someone named Bell?" Terrence pressed. He could tell she wasn't lying, even though she didn't like him - much as he disliked Bulstrode, he didn't mind that she was incredibly easy to read. Like an open book.
Millicent considered her options. She could give him the records, more records than he needed, and let him dig his way through the enormous tomes himself until he either gave up or found what he wanted. But that would involve him sticking around in the office for a while - and also required her to entrust her jail's (well, not technically hers, but that was how she saw it) precious records to someone she didn't trust. That said, though, he was Marked. He wasn't ordering her around, but he did have a right to ask her for information.
She vaguely remembered the name, and after glaring at him for a moment longer, turned on her heel and headed deeper into the office, where the records were kept. She kept an eye on him as she flipped through the records, until she found what she was looking for. When she returned, she shoved the big book onto the desk in front of him and pointed to the name. Francie Bell was listed under the deceased, from about a year ago.
"That's the only Bell you've had?" Terrence asked. Millicent nodded, and glared. He only stared at it for a moment longer before nodding and straightening. He didn't say thank you, just left the office, presumably heading back out of the jail and leaving the island.
Millicent didn't care about the lack of thanks or a goodbye, she was just glad that he was gone. With a slight huff, she put the book back in its place and resumed her seat to enjoy the rest of her break. At least he hadn't taken up too much of her time.