multiversallogs | are there even goats in flag hill

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are there even goats in flag hill

Who: Antonin and Rodolphus
What: death drinkers anonymous
Where: a bar in Flag Hill (one that hasn't had its front wall ripped out by the militia)
When: evening, after Rodolphus finishes Hellsing work; after Bellatrix's arrival
Notes: MY WIIIIFE/MY LIIIIFE
Warnings: not actually anonymous in any way

Word gets around, one way or another, and Rodolphus is somewhere between indifferent and grateful. It is an intensely personal matter, but people at Hellsing are more or less accustomed to his ways, and if they understand why he's a little slower for the rest of the work day, struggling to focus on his work instead of being the dutiful machine he usually is, that is acceptable.

He tries to make up for it the next day. It helps that the Flag Hill warding job is more complicated than usual, requiring his full attention. If he's slow today, he's also very careful. Hellsing has a reputation to maintain and maybe he does too, a little bit. When he finishes that evening, he walks for a while in an attempt to clear his head instead of apparating back to an empty house that will become an echo chamber of his own obsessiveness. Rodolphus passes a bar, then slowly backtracks to consider it. Tomorrow is the weekend, and barring any emergencies, he may not be required. And people rarely talk to him at bars, for some reason. Perhaps this could work. Perhaps he could simply sit for a while, alone.

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Unfortunately, the universe is not so kind. Antonin may or may be systematically trying out every bar in the city, but if not, he is sampling a wide swath. He's starting relatively near Severus' place and working outward; this is a repeat visit to this particular venue.

Severus had told Antonin that Rodolphus is in the city, and Antonin has seen that Bellatrix is. It isn't difficult to add two and two. He hadn't sought Rodolphus out before, as Azkaban has left neither of them the better, but not seeking him out and ignoring him are two different things.

He slides into the empty seat and says, "You look like a man who could use a refill."

This approach is rewarded with an actual expression, one of mild surprise that means Rodolphus is actually shocked to see him. No one got around to telling him (because seriously, just read the network, Rodolphus) and he was just working himself into that forever alone mindset when suddenly, an Antonin. It's a difficult adjustment, but he works through it by staring intently at Antonin, taking note of the age he appears to be.

"As you say." He says finally, acknowledging in his dead-eyed way exactly what Antonin knows. And, for politeness' sake: "You look well."

See. He can jump through all the hoops, even if he's only doing it this time specifically to entertain Antonin, when they both know how little he cares for that sort of thing.

Antonin laughs, taking that for the joke it is. (Because he has seen a mirror lately.) "I was beginning to suspect I would be surrounded only by children pretending to be people I knew. Come, next round is on me."

He gestures to the bartender. "Or I could just get a bottle?"

Someone was looting zombie corpses!

If he knew, he would not be able to find it in himself to judge. Baedal is a profound disconnection from their reality in a lot of ways, and besides, it's Antonin. Looting zombie corpses is exactly the kind of activity which endears (if that is the word) him to Rodolphus.

"Severus, you mean?" He says it so casually, so indifferently, nodding in agreement for the bottle idea. Like he hasn't spent entire nights considering hypothetical ways of murdering Snape. In the end, though, he just doesn't have the passion for something that seems so meaningless. Would he even feel better? Honestly, he'd probably die in the attempt. Which might be desirable... but he hasn't tried.

"Yes. And I hear one of the surplus of Malfoys is younger than he should be too." It baffles Antonin why neither Lucius has looked him up. He's delightful. "And Severus has a pet dog! I would have thought, if he had a pet at all, it would be something more..." Antonin gestures, presumably indicating vaguely 'morose and asocial.'

"Where are you these days?"

Look at him, being an excellent friend by getting a bottle of something strong and not bringing up Rodolphus' wife first.

Rodolphus appreciates his restraint. Sort of. No one is forcing him to drink and abandon all vestiges of dignity by being miserable at Antonin. He's choosing to do that of his own free will and the alcohol is a necessary component.

"He is at least not a traitor." Which is such a kind comparative assessment of Lucius Malfoys, but coming from Rodolphus, it might as well be a ringing endorsement.

It's hard to imagine Severus with a dog. He tries, as he takes a very long first swallow of something that feels like it's dissolving his esophagus. "Sobek Croix. We work for Hellsing. Is it. A small dog."

Seriously, he's having a hard time getting over this bit of information.

Antonin pours them both generous portions. You let him pick, you get the nearest approximation of vodka.

Antonin didn't actually know Severus was a traitor - relatively more than Lucius, at least, as he knows both managed to get out of Azkaban. But no need to indicate he didn't know when he's not going there right this moment. Rodolphus probably knows Antonin isn't as stupid as he acts, but the facade is a habit, even with friends.

Rodolphus certainly knows the accent is partly put on, because Antonin is not actually from a Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoon.

"Medium, but big feet." So big eventually. "Very friendly. Affectionate, I would even say."

Rodolphus had meant that the older Lucius was a traitor, as compared to the younger Lucius; he is also unaware of what role Severus might have played in anything related to events on their own world. Even he can admit that killing Bellatrix in Baedal doesn't technically qualify anyone as a 'traitor'. He doesn't like it, but there is some solid reasoning behind that kind of action.

He stares into space (actually, his gaze lines up with a completely blameless person across the room, who eventually moves to another table), trying to imagine Severus and his affectionate puppy.

"Well," Rodolphus finally says, "we should all have someone."

In the Bitterness Olympics, he is shooting for a medal.

"I am not sure I want to go down the path of what we should have." Antonin lifts his glass before downing what is surely not his first drink of the day. "But here we are, and there is Severus with his puppy dog."

"Who all is 'we,' at this Hellsing?" Antonin supposes he will eventually need a way to buy liquor that's more sustainable than his current method.

"The younger Lucius." He clarifies. "I do not know what the older one does. It is an odd assortment of people, but they are effective."

To say he feels special loyalty or camaraderie with the people at Hellsing would be stretching the truth, but he does respect them, that much is clear. And anyway, Rodolphus, camaraderie, etc. He drinks before making the polite offer he feels expected of him.

"If you're interested, I could make introductions."

'Put in a good word for you' is not what he would do; he'd be honest about both Antonin's skill and his personality. But it's not like Antonin is unreliable in the professional sense that matters. Other professional matters, maybe, but no one has to send him on matters of delicate diplomacy, just like no one would send Rodolphus.

"What do you do, for them?" If it's anything that involves hurting people, Antonin will fit right in, but Azkaban hasn't left him more suited to a 9 to 5 job than he was before. He's never had to work, and is suspicious of it not because he thinks he's too good for it, but because he imagines he will make a hash of most potential assignments.

Still, if they found something for Rodolphus and Malfoy deigned to work there (he thinks he remembers Severus mentioning Regulus too), maybe it's worth looking into.

"Warding work, primarily. Combat or investigation if they are stretched — they are a guild that deals with supernatural intrusion. The... versatility of wizards from our world is appreciated there. You would not necessarily have my assignments if you were hired."

He knows Antonin knows he's not exactly the warrior Bellatrix is. Sigh. Bellatrix. Rodolphus finishes his drink and pours another, also topping up Antonin's glass.

"They are also somewhat aware of our past associations." It is a vague warning.

"Good to know. I will think on it." It might be a marginally less painful option than others, at least. "At least however I came here, my wand came as well. I am not without some uses, this way."

He may be a wreck, but he's a wreck that can cast some nasty curses.

He actually smiles. Just a little bit, of course, because he might sprain disused facial muscles otherwise, but it counts. Thanks, vodka.

"There is plenty to do." And clearly Antonin has found some of it, otherwise he wouldn't have bought the bottle. "It ranges from farcical to bloody."

"And on lucky days, both?" He grins to make up for Rodolphus' deficit. "I have heard a great deal about this city, but so far it just seems a little odd."

"Between the political tensions and the supernatural incursions, you will find something interesting, sooner or later." Rodolphus shrugs, pausing ruminatively over his drink. "I once went out into the Fog, in a boat. I do not recommend it."

Though you do meet some lovely people. "There was also another Bellatrix here before this one. She was killed." He drinks deep. "I was attacked by frog men, once. And some gelatinous blobs."

At this point, he is nicely on his way to drunk.

"These are all separate adventures?" Antonin asks, topping them both off again. "It does sound like you were kept on your toes."

"Separate, yes." He stares at his full again glass and tries to drink at a more sedate pace. "Many things. Many interesting people. I hope no one else from home shows up."

That is indeed a reference to a Certain Someone, but it is an oblique one. Rodolphus didn't tell Bellatrix about his dreams and he's certainly not going to tell Antonin. Probably. Well, he'll try not to. Damn.

"No one else in particular, at least." Antonin gives him a sidelong look. He doesn't particularly want a Certain Someone either - if that Someone is from his own time, he's a lunatic, if he's from earlier... well, it would still rather be like having the teacher return after leaving the class unsupervised.

"Though I am sad I missed Narcissa," he adds, lighter, after a moment. "If we must have Malfoys, I don't see why we can't have the decorative one."

Strangely, it is the mention of Narcissa, or her absence, that makes Rodolphus wilt ever so slightly. It is difficult to put into words how she makes him feel. The words tend to come out completely lacking dignity, things like Narcissa is nice and I wish I had fallen in love with Narcissa, or maybe that's just the way they would come out right now.

"He brought me whiskey." He feels compelled to acknowledge that much.

"Lucius did?" Antonin was never much for 'soft,' and he probably can't really do it now if he tries, but the question is at least quieter and less glib. He didn't, at least, miss the slight change in Rodolphus' demeanor.

"When Bellatrix died." Rodolphus stares off into the same direction he was staring earlier, not coincidentally. "I think Severus killed her."

Most of what he says can be considered cold. That statement has reached subzero temperatures. It is a statement he has thought a lot about, a statement with long, empty nights crammed inside of it. He blinks slowly, then starts drinking again.

Antonin takes a long drink, almost thoughtful. There are several questions it occurs to him to ask. The one he settles on is: "Do you think he'll try to do it again?"

He puts the glass down some distance away from the bottle to indicate that no more is required at the moment, moving his stare from across the bar to the counter top beside his hand. There's a long pause from him too.

"I don't care," Rodolphus says finally, a miserable lie. Then, more truthfully, and with a tinge of sarcastic anger: "What could I possibly do about it, if he did."

Good old repressed homicidal impulses. It is an English tradition.

Antonin raises his eyebrows. Englishmen will insist on being English, he supposes. "Do you know why, the first time?"

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