In part, the drink acts as something of an anchor and a reason not to be dismissed for all that he is breaking into, uninvited, her liquor; so Lucius doesn't object when she sets about her business for all that he tracks her progress with that same chilly incredulity. Waiting for her to clean up had afforded him time to think, as well, but-- he hasn't settled happily upon a single conclusion.
Death is something of a finality, where he is from. Protection spells, healing potions, these things are well and good, and there is a reason why wizards and witches have their morbidly extended lifespans, but once you're finished--
Well. Look at what Tom Riddle gave to pay the price of return. And there's a reason why all the good fairytales are about cheating death.
Charming though she is, Lucius has also discounted 'made a pact with the Reaper'. He summons a glass, after a second, the clatter and slosh of a drink being poured. He follows her into the generous kitchen once he's done, setting the scotch down and sliding it across the silver surface in her direction. "And your shoulder?" is polite enough inquiry.
no subject
Death is something of a finality, where he is from. Protection spells, healing potions, these things are well and good, and there is a reason why wizards and witches have their morbidly extended lifespans, but once you're finished--
Well. Look at what Tom Riddle gave to pay the price of return. And there's a reason why all the good fairytales are about cheating death.
Charming though she is, Lucius has also discounted 'made a pact with the Reaper'. He summons a glass, after a second, the clatter and slosh of a drink being poured. He follows her into the generous kitchen once he's done, setting the scotch down and sliding it across the silver surface in her direction. "And your shoulder?" is polite enough inquiry.