Post by Fierro Darque on Nov 30, 2009 19:57:29 GMT -8
December 22nd, 2010 - Tuesday
About 10pm
The Abby was rather slow this wintery night, but since it was a Tuesday, Fierro figured everyone wanted to stay in. Well, mostly everyone. There were a couple of drunkards two stools down from where he was perched, bums from the looks of them. Their clothing was as ragged as the old curtains that used to hang in the manor, and smelled as old as those bloody curtains as well. The Minister, as much as he wanted to make a face and scoot away, decided to keep to himself, let the disgusting muggle hobos have their fun and enjoy his drink without any spectacles of unusual happenings (aka, using magic to toy with the belligerent and crazy drunks) for this evening.
Maybe it was because Fierro was just stunned. He was still so shocked that the Death Eaters actually had Damien in custody. Trevor hadn't summoned the DE's to a meeting, but he knew there was something underway. There was no way this administration could just sit on something so big and not do anything about it. Maybe this meant he could find his daughter....
Liam, the bartender here, refilled his mug. Fierro nodded in thanks, slipping a few monetary notes his way before putting his wallet back into his pocket. "Cheers." Fierro muttered to the Irishman, a registered Wizard. No, it wasn't unusual that he find the Wizard here, bussing tables and filling mugs, trying to live the simple life. There were a lot of Witches and Wizards leading an almost double life, between here and the Wizarding World. Most of the Death Eaters would have spit at the decision to live amongst mere humans, the muggles. Fierro liked this place. It was quiet, he didn't have to worry about politics, magic, laws, and more specifically, his boss.
"Are you alright, sir?" Liam was wiping down a mug with a worn, white towel that previously rested on his shoulder.
Fierro looked up at the man, his accent catching his attention right away. There was a weird feeling Fierro got when he looked at him, as if he was familiar. Maybe it was just his friendly demeanor, welcoming Fierro, blackened soul and all, and trying to comfort him with a bottomless mug of ale. Hm. "I'm fine, thanks."
But he was anything but fine. Bewildered, yes. Lonely? Yes. Disgruntled - extremely. Fierro's plan needed to come together, and it was moving a lot slower than expected. Not only that, he was sure Trevor was spying on him...again.
About 10pm
The Abby was rather slow this wintery night, but since it was a Tuesday, Fierro figured everyone wanted to stay in. Well, mostly everyone. There were a couple of drunkards two stools down from where he was perched, bums from the looks of them. Their clothing was as ragged as the old curtains that used to hang in the manor, and smelled as old as those bloody curtains as well. The Minister, as much as he wanted to make a face and scoot away, decided to keep to himself, let the disgusting muggle hobos have their fun and enjoy his drink without any spectacles of unusual happenings (aka, using magic to toy with the belligerent and crazy drunks) for this evening.
Maybe it was because Fierro was just stunned. He was still so shocked that the Death Eaters actually had Damien in custody. Trevor hadn't summoned the DE's to a meeting, but he knew there was something underway. There was no way this administration could just sit on something so big and not do anything about it. Maybe this meant he could find his daughter....
Liam, the bartender here, refilled his mug. Fierro nodded in thanks, slipping a few monetary notes his way before putting his wallet back into his pocket. "Cheers." Fierro muttered to the Irishman, a registered Wizard. No, it wasn't unusual that he find the Wizard here, bussing tables and filling mugs, trying to live the simple life. There were a lot of Witches and Wizards leading an almost double life, between here and the Wizarding World. Most of the Death Eaters would have spit at the decision to live amongst mere humans, the muggles. Fierro liked this place. It was quiet, he didn't have to worry about politics, magic, laws, and more specifically, his boss.
"Are you alright, sir?" Liam was wiping down a mug with a worn, white towel that previously rested on his shoulder.
Fierro looked up at the man, his accent catching his attention right away. There was a weird feeling Fierro got when he looked at him, as if he was familiar. Maybe it was just his friendly demeanor, welcoming Fierro, blackened soul and all, and trying to comfort him with a bottomless mug of ale. Hm. "I'm fine, thanks."
But he was anything but fine. Bewildered, yes. Lonely? Yes. Disgruntled - extremely. Fierro's plan needed to come together, and it was moving a lot slower than expected. Not only that, he was sure Trevor was spying on him...again.