take a good look in the mirror and tell me

[inkdamage]

Who: Severus and Amberdrake.
What: Business consultation.
Where: A restaurant in Flag Hill.
When: Presentlyish?
Notes: i'm in ur game spammin ur log comm
Warnings: I don't foresee any.

Taking a break from jobs that necessitate the corrosion of his soul is not a work hiatus, Severus would go mad. He remembers the man who contacts him over the CiD, remembers he pegged him for being awfully new and thus certainly under-funded; it's been a while since he walked into a job knowing he'll have to undercharge or work on barter, but maybe something about witnessing those riots is making him sentimental. He's not sure if that's a better or worse explanation than just doing something nice for someone new on his cohort.

The restaurant he's sitting in is one that he's been to before, both to get out of the house and to meet with potential clients; dimly-lit in a way that's subdued instead of shady, upscale without being exclusive, private seating, and no smoking restrictions. He waits sitting in a round, leather-backed booth underneath a low amber lamp, cigarette burning between his fingers, coffee at his elbow.

Comments

[amberdrake]

"I'm worthless in a fight, you mean," Amberdrake smiles, anyway, because it's more true than Severus probably thinks. He has little choice about being a pacifist. "I've never heard of anyone using the Gift in such a way. Even Ma'ar used mages as assassins, never Healers."

And if there was one guy who would have turned the force of Healing and repair on its end in some poetic mockery of itself, it would have been the Kiyamvir Ma'ar. But even he, apparently, hadn't found anyone he could twist into that use.

Or perhaps he'd never considered it. Ma'ar tended to think of things in mage terms, after all. Almost all of his most cunning maneuvers and schemes had involved some horrific curse or other, and even when he'd taken out Urtho with the most heinous, horrifying poison known to the world, he'd had Conn Levas -- a mage -- shoot the darts.

But in a war between Adepts, perhaps that was expected.

"The most dangerous thing I've ever done to someone with the Gift is paralyze them temporarily while reconstructing their wings." And a good thing, too, because the Nosgothian vampire Raziel in a flashback-frenzy panic was danger personified. If Drake hadn't been ready for it, he would have been turned into a smear on the floor.

[inkdamage]

"Is paralyzing someone dangerous?" Severus drinks more of his coffee. It's lukewarm again, but that's his own fault; reheating it will just make it taste awful. He shall endure.

The thought of mages as assassins is privately funny. There's a surprisingly small number of primary magic user in the Assassins Guild; a great number of people who can use magic, or do a few specific things with it, but Severus finds himself an anomaly within their ranks. It is slightly irritating to be asked to make poisons and draw plans more than he's asked to take care of anything - just like it was with the Dark Lord, sequestered as a tactician, as a potioneer, socked away in Hogsmeade, playing nice... Well, it isn't the same, now. He learns enough in the Guild to keep him happy. Someone's even humoring him with lessons on how to throw a damn punch.

[amberdrake]

"Depending on how you do it, certainly," Amberdrake raises an eyebrow, "dropping a limb here and there is one thing, of course. I can turn off muscle control at the joints and they'll be fine when I release them. But anything involving the spine... I've only done full-body paralysis on those I knew didn't need to breathe to live."

It's faster to go for the neck and turn everything off all at once, like hitting a light switch. That hadn't exactly calmed Raziel down (far from it!) but it had kept Drake in one piece long enough to put his patient back into one piece.

"...And speaking of internal anatomy," he adds with a faint smile, "you haven't answered me about those lungs of yours. Let's not even pretend you couldn't kill me as easily as you filled your cup a few minutes ago if I for some reason tried to do something stupid."

Drake doesn't even know the extent of what Severus can do, but he knows what it would do to a human brain to suddenly double the amount of blood in it. Or his arteries.

He's not terribly concerned by this; Skandranon could shear him in two in a heartbeat with his beak, or pop a talon through his eye socket. Sanzo could shoot him or break his neck. Urtho probably could have willed him into non-existance if he'd ever been inclined. Vikteren could have lit him on fire. Shalaman could have had him drawn and quartered with a gesture.

In short, Drake is very much used to being the unarmed guy in a room full of dangerous people. His Gifts may have the potential to do harm, but they also have their own built-in preventative measures.

[inkdamage]

Severus had rather meant how paralyzing was dangerous for him to do, not for the person being paralyzed. Still, it's certainly interesting to know more about how his ability works.

That, though. He raises his eyebrows just so. "Do you prefer that position?" Lurking pleasantly in the peripheral vision of people that can kill him. Amberdrake certainly seemed to be in his element in the field.

(Avoid the question a little harder, Severus.)

[amberdrake]

"Preference has little to do with it," Amberdrake actually sounds a little dismissive, there. "It's never been much of a choice, really."

It's very matter of fact.

"Make no mistake," he adds a little more pleasantly, despite the topic, "if anyone went for my throat, I'd defend myself. Supposing there was time to do so, of course. There are people who I would rather not leave behind. But I'm under no illusions about being the dangerous one in most of my interactions with others."

[inkdamage]

Severus shrugs, elegant in a learned way. "You brought it up. Either you enjoy it, or you think you're putting me at ease."

Which he isn't, really, because Severus is enormously confident in his own abilities anyway and thus already knew (or decided he did, anyway). It's more curious that Amberdrake has singled something like that out to say.

"I suppose you'd like to barter that service for mine?"

[amberdrake]

"Most people would be at least a tiny bit nervous if I asked about doing things to their lungs a breath after discussing the potential ways the Healing Gift could harm someone," Amberdrake notes with a small smile, "it was morbid, certainly, but what side would you err on with a stranger, in my position?"

You know, assuming Severus cared about not being seen as a threat.

It isn't as though Drake has trouble admitting he's outgunned. And, of course, he doesn't completely buy the nonchalance. Severus might be certain that he could turn Drake into so much paste -- and he's right -- but then there's that whole touching issue.

"If you're well-off enough to afford to do that, perhaps," Drake says after a moment's thought. He's pretty sure they both normally fetch quite the high price for their work. He certainly knows he does.

"I'm not terribly worried, I'll likely have the funds to pay you long before my cache of herbs grows low."

Nope, he didn't come here expecting a discount!

[inkdamage]

"I don't think that I'd offer to do that to someone's lungs, honestly."

Elbows on the table, cup near his face, he looks-- well, his age, which is sometimes surprising; people tend to guess he's older, when he isn't being a complete prat, and looking like he does it's hard to tell at the best of times. (Mileage, versus years.)

"I'd be fine with a trade, should I decide to take you up on it." A beat. "Is lung tar damaging?"

... This is not as shockingly, willfully ignorant as one might think, even if it contrasts starkly with how learned he's seen so far. Cigarettes are far more of a Muggle habit than a wizarding one, and Severus has quite successfully missed uprisings of anti-smoking propaganda and health risk advisories by virtue of immersing himself in a culture that doesn't need it.

[amberdrake]

"We don't have your cigarettes on my world, and pure tobacco is not as easy to come by. So I have never cut someone open who had, say, died of it."

You know, like at thirteen when he'd been learning to be a purely non-magical surgeon. You don't start on the living!

"I have cleared lung tar out of another avid smoker in the past, however, so I've researched some of what it does." Because he's an awesome Healer like that. And also because he rather gives a damn about that other pair of lungs he's cleared in the past. "It makes your lung tissue less elastic, which results in less lung capacity, which also equals less stamina should you need to run or fight," in a non-magical way, of course.

"There are risks of the tissue staying inflated, making exhaling difficult, called emphysema. The lower oxygen levels can damage your heart, and there was some awful thing about it causing tumors."

[inkdamage]

"I've heard it might cause lung cancer, years down the line, but I've never imagined getting quite that far." Blasé. No, Severus is quite sure someone will be dropping a house on him very soon after his return to the UK; it's a certainty that would make him unmoved by the thought of fixing his lungs even if he was fully cognizant of the damage it does. (It's not his fault he was born in the sixties.) "I'll have to look into it, I've never thought about it before."

[amberdrake]

"It would take quite a few sessions," Amberdrake notes mildly, "but there would be no side effects to stopping early if you got fed up with the whole process."

A little cleaned up or a lot cleaned up, it would be better than not at all, surely.

But he's not a salesman making a pitch, here, so he's not going to push. An 'I'll think about it' is an answer, for now. A 'no' would work just as well in the long run.

[inkdamage]

There are two main drawbacks to getting such a treatment: the fact that Severus hates being prodded at, and the fact that Severus has no idea if it would keep if he went back home, or just revert and make the entire thing pointless. He knows he will eventually go back home - he isn't lucky enough to have been swept away to Baedal forever. He'd be too pleased that way, and he has sins to make up for still.

"This has been an informative meeting," he says, sounding like an opening to wrap things up. "Do you have any other questions about me or my services?"

[amberdrake]

The kestra'chern figures it's mostly a matter of whether curiosity outweighs discomfort or not. This is, in itself, something of a query aimed at Severus' personality.

Drake can't help it; everything is a puzzle piece after so many years in his primary profession. And while he's mostly gotten used to never having a complete picture, it doesn't stop him from trying. It's part of what infuriates his own daughter in later years.

"Quite a few," Amberdrake's reply comes with a smile, "but nothing pressing at the moment. You are able to contact me, now?"

Technology, he's still not on the best of terms with it. He's pretty sure that calling someone gives them your number, but he doesn't know for certain.

[inkdamage]

"Yes." If Amberdrake isn't going to ask anything else on his own, then Severus isn't going to prompt him to. He's taken enough notes to be getting on with, so that in the even he's ever actually called on for a job, he'll be able to navigate promptly. He sets out a few slim pieces of paper on the table - enough to cover both of their drinks - and moves to stand.

"Enjoy the rest of your evening."