This wasn't a new experience; Edric had been here before and understood how Riddle worked and how the meeting would play out. Still, he couldn't help but feel there was always something more expected of him when he sat amongst these men. A certain way to behave, a submissive, hive-like propriety. That was in Riddle's eyes. Still, the tension only showed on Edric's brow. He sat casually, too casually as was the usual, hips rolled forward and one arm draped over the back of his chair so that it might sneak behind Dolohov across the Rudy, in case the boy decided to do something silly. The other hand played idly with an unlit cigarette, wrist resting on the edge of the table. Edric's eyes stayed on it until Riddle spoke, not feeling particularly social with the weight of Rudy's introduction on his mind. Perhaps this was a bad idea. Rudy was young. He didn't need to concern himself with these matters-- he had his own trouble to get into. And the commitment and intensity only got greater with each meeting. People were dying now. They had secrets now. Riddle's voice drew his eyes, but Edric didn't lift his head. His fingers only slowed, not stilled, and behind Dolohov's back he held the back of Rudy's chair.