they're dancing on the roof and the ceiling's coming down

[amourpropre]

Who: Lucius Malfoy (Sr) and Benevenuta Crispo
What: Lucius continues to do the swap meet party a favour by not meeting up with anyone inside of it.
Where: Syriac Well
When: Backdated to Sukkardi the 14th of Haneden.
Warnings: TBA.

It would be giving him too much credit to say that Lucius did not consider simply letting himself inside of her home, but there is something to be said about women who spent two weeks strapped into a crossbow and wielding a sword as long as her leg with a practical kind of ease. And that something would be: don't alarm them with breaking and entering.

He's had enough antagonism, for one week.

Which is a lie, because he could have just left Granger's book somewhere for her to collect, by courier or otherwise, but physically speaking, he could do with a break. There's a split dark and horizontal across the bridge of his nose, and something's happened to the arm he used to block that one curse, decidedly unpleasant and nonmagical. The elder of the Snapes was rude enough to depart for wherever it is he came from, and Lucius was rather out of essence of dittany, the discovery of which had nearly moved him to do a little property damage out of sheer impatience, but he'd held back. Because he was tired.

He has had a little to drink, not in excess, but any middle aged man with his particular disposition sort of points to excess anyway. Both this and the coat he wears staves off any cold that might have befallen the later evening, as he sits with a kind of weary patience upon the wooden bench just near Vanessza's building. It hasn't rained lately, but pink leaved trees have collected enough moisture for the occasional patter of water to break the evening silence. He has a leg folded over the other, and though he had seen her leave alone, he takes some morbid amusement from the idea of if she hadn't.

Comments

[asklepios]

Well, that's-- not unexpected, exactly, but Benevenuta still takes a moment to mentally catch up, it having been a long day and that having been a little more abrupt than she'd been anticipating, offhand. It's still a good deal more amiable than the last time he was in her flat, so there's that.

(There's a thought that crosses her mind, but that can wait until he isn't injured and she hasn't been drinking. It'll be easier to talk him into if he's not nursing wounded pride.)

So she stands, to see him out (all the way across the room, yes): “Goodnight, Lucius.”