why don't we make it rain like we used to

[amourpropre]

Who: Lucius Malfoy (Sr) and Severus Snape β
What: Picking up some shopping, as you do, and chance of civil conversation.
Where: Severus' apothecary in Sobek Croix
When: Sssslightly backdated?

He arrives when the store is near closing, the sun reaching for the horizon as the clock ticks inevitably towards six. It's to avoid people in general, even if the only people that Lucius finds sharing the same space with to be remotely awkward would be his fellow wizards, both from his time and otherwise. He wasn't lying, however, about what ingredients he was having difficulty obtaining.

He wasn't lying about needing them either.

Sweeping inside, he pauses to both look around as well as loosen his coat a little against the change of temperature, as haggard as anyone has left him but still dressed in expensively cut wools and cottons and satin linings, shoes polished.

Comments

[subtlescience]

Severus likes very few things; waiting is not one of them. As six o'clock nears, he becomes increasingly irritable with Lucius, the slight downward tug of his mouth becoming a scowl as the minutes tick by. However, when at last his old friend - with a question mark appended to that word - drags himself into the shop, he schools his expression to a neutral mask.

There is already enough blood in the water without making the situation worse by nitpicking over when one Lucius Malfoy decides to put in an appearance. Even if one Lucius Malfoy is keeping Severus from other, more interesting pursuits which in no way involve work.

He isn't dressed in costly clothes, but they are still clean and crisp - and decidedly Muggle, albeit rather militant in cut and as black as any robes he owned before. His coat is draped pointedly over the counter - the only sign he gives that he is quite ready to leave, thank you very much.

"Lucius." Very civil. We can manage civil, he thinks. Of course, his wand isn't so far away that he isn't comfortable being civil.

[amourpropre]

Pale grey eyes glance and tick off the coat left in view, but his expression doesn't change much as he comes to settle at some adequate distance. There's a look up and down of Severus, but it isn't as though Lucius can comment - he isn't in the same sweeping robes he used to wear either, or even the over-elaborate and antiquated affects of waistcoats and cravats. They are Muggle cuts for all that the fabric is quality, layers of black and grey, although silver set with a gem adorns a finger; it is a wonder how he can think to add these details and not be otherwise immaculate.

He never pawned off all his silver before resorting to petty theft, either. "Yes," he confirms, rather than echo back the obligatory greeting, the look he was casting about finally resting on Snape. "You were expecting me, I believe."

The reminder is wry but not entirely insincere; he had debated the task of showing up at all.

[subtlescience]

The comment is met with an inscrutably neutral look; Severus has no intention of being drawn into petty bickering with Lucius, but it is particularly difficult. The first thing which comes to mind to snap back at the other man is an acknowledgement that he was, indeed, expecting him - hours ago. But he suspects relations are already strained quite enough without him suggesting he has better things to do than wait on a Malfoy.

But it is a look nonetheless, as though he is inspecting his old friend, judging him, calculating. He takes note of the finery, comes to his own conclusions about habit and lifestyle. He knows how much the average worker earns, and Lucius never has been a worker. Finally, he simply raises an eyebrow and glances down, not breaking eye-contact out of submission, but as though finding the subject of scrutiny wholly uninteresting.

Lying through expression and action; the subject is quite a curious one. Severus can't help but wonder just what the other man has been getting up to here in Baedal.

"I took the liberty of determining those ingredients you might need for your purposes." Since there wasn't a list and he doesn't want to be here all evening while Lucius browses.

[amourpropre]

There is a lot of dialogue going on behind simpler words. It is either unfortunate or fortunate that Lucius can only read so much. He isn't as good at this game anymore, and scrutiny isn't something to preen under but defend against. He'd probably know Severus better if he thought he ever knew him at all in the last several years.

Et cetera.

"Thank you," he states, simply, approaching the counter top and placing his cane against it. "I'm certain I won't be the last of our kind to move through your doors." And more than that; the woman he knows as Vanessza has already done so, taking a cue from him unknowingly.

[subtlescience]

Now, that is an odd response, indeed, and it garners a reaction from Severus. A mere darting glance and a faltering of his hand as he reaches to produce a box, but a reaction nonetheless. It is civil and polite, and more than any caustic banter which might have passed between them in days gone by, it makes him wary. There are good reasons for Lucius to behave in such a manner, he supposes. Schemes. A metaphorical storm on the horizon. A genuine attempt at civility (ha!) or a distancing tactic.

Or Baedal has broken a Malfoy.

More so than the war.

There's a thought.

He doesn't reply to the comment, however; discreet business is good business, and he has no intention of disseminating information about his customers to anyone, and certainly not to the man before him. Instead, his response is brief and exceptionally toneless, as if to pointedly draw the line between the topic of his patrons and Lucius Malfoy. "Two marks five."

[amourpropre]

A wallet with a shiny, snake-skin quality to it is extracted from a pocket and in turn, the money from the wallet, both paper and coin, and no change necessary as the right amount is laid down upon the counter to be swept up. By then, Lucius' neutral expression has taken on a harder quality as prodding conversation is more or less ignored, without much regard for customer confidentiality.

He silently pushes the money forward, then, and folds his hands.

[subtlescience]

One by one, the contents of the box are extracted and set on the counter with near-pathological precision; each vial produces the muted sound of glass on wood.

Severus meets his old comrade's gaze again and gives a modest gesture which could stand to suffer a dearth of irony: See, Lucius? Everything in order, perfectly measured, clean, of the best quality. Of course. For your inspection.

Were the situation different - any different at all - he would feel immensely bitter. Subservience chafes him, but at the moment, he senses he and Lucius are on something of an even keel. He may be nothing more than a humble shopkeeper, but humility is no more wanting than irony in the room. "I trust all is to your satisfaction."

[amourpropre]

Lucius waits until everything is in order before picking up the first vial, somewhat less careful in his handling. Another, and another, but he isn't going through them all; with anyone else, he might be more inclined to inspect for quality and truthiness, but in this one small thing, he can trust Severus.

He turns one of the vials around in his hand, casting a bland look back at Severus. "Trust you, of course, to act the victim upon my simply pointing out the truth of things," he says, each syllable prim and tidy. Their little fluster on the network that led to this meeting was not so long ago, fresh still in mind.

[subtlescience]

The statement is met with little more than a blink at first, but then a tight smirk curls at the left corner of his mouth. Grim, hollow amusement underneath tired eyes. Another conversation he doesn't particularly want to have, but one which can't be avoided if Lucius opts to have it.

Because if anyone deserves an explanation, it's this man.

However, it's not one he's going to offer without being prompted, and so he drops his gaze - admission enough that Lucius did point out the truth of things - and sets to work repacking the purchases. Actions speaking louder than words: Victim, no. But certainly guilty as charged.

[amourpropre]

Unfortunately, Lucius is definitely a man of words over action, and he stands in brimming irritation as the silence rings loudly around them, emphasised by the irritating click and placement of the vials. But the message is read, at least, the lack of sharp argument and correction heard, and he holds even the gaze that Severus let fall.

Fine. He can talk. Once upon a time, he was good at it.

"The war is over," he states, flatly. "And for all it counts in the real world, it counts for nothing here. Does that surprise you, coming from me?"

[subtlescience]

There isn't an immediate response. There is nothing left to pack away, no more indications he can give to Lucius that this is not a conversation he wishes to have. So he finally resigns himself to it and mulls over a reply which might at least be adequate.

Severus isn't quite sure where he stands with his old friend, but there is something about the way Lucius keeps pushing which suggests 'friendship' itself is not yet out of the question - and he could use an ally or two. The problem is, he's not sure where the other man is going with this.

"No," he replies at last. "It does not surprise me that you would cease to engage in any activity which holds no benefit for you or your family."

[amourpropre]

It's a good place to start, Lucius thinks. A clear and definite page to share. There is, maybe, a small satisfaction that the conversation is within his control, because he imagines he reads uncertainty in the somewhat stilted reply he receives, accurate to the syllable in the same way legal documents are. The corner of his mouth curls in a pitiless sort of smirk that fades by the time he is talking again.

He continues to ignore the coat folded on the counter top.

"And so you would have either of us pretend the last twenty years went differently, or pretend you're simply a shop keeper and I, a customer? Anything else being a waste of time."

Offended, maybe, at the dismissal, but the sharpness is gone from his voice, and there is no indignant bluster. The drawl is quite usual, at least.

[subtlescience]

He could respond with the reminder that he should similarly not be expected to behave in any way which doesn't benefit his family. He could also suggest it is Lucius who is acting the victim, when, in fact, Severus acted to protect the Malfoys regardless of his own politics. It occurs to him to say these things.

But he still doesn't know what Lucius is after with this conversation. Perhaps conversation for the sake of it. So he treads carefully.

"You have good reason to want me dead. Similarly, you have good reason to forgive me." That is the closest you will get to an apology, Lucius. Make good use of it. "I am making no assumptions. At this moment, I am treating you as a customer because that is precisely what you are. That is the dynamic you initiated. I would not presume to behave as though you wished to be amicable simply because we engaged in a business transaction."

A beat. "And duelling customers is bad for business."

[amourpropre]

"Only if you win."

The quip is sort of. Out of his mouth before he can think twice about being so amiable, managing at least to keep it to a mutter. With the money handed over, Lucius then takes the packed items for himself, movement brisk and matter of fact. Whatever he is seeking to obtain, it is becoming more difficult to work for than he would like it to be.

But that was always going to be the case. "It is the dynamic you are upholding, Severus," he corrects. "I presume it has something to do with your Muggle wife. For the record, I don't care." Which is not utterly true; but how he cares, how he minds it, has little to do with black and white prejudice. "I should let you go," indicates he didn't quite miss the signals urging his departure, whether it be because of Lucius himself or the hour he chose.

[subtlescience]

The only indication Severus gives to suggest he found humour in Lucius's reply is a slight raise of his eyebrows. No laughter; just the barest suggestion of a retort in his expression: And you think I won't?

It's gone almost immediately, however, at the mention of Martha. All levity sapped from the conversation because he's either not fool enough or too paranoid to think Lucius is truly going to let it lie at that. But the other man does have one fair point: this dynamic is the one he'll uphold. He doesn't know where to move next. Where the traps lie.

Neither of them are open enough to outright say what they want, but Lucius doesn't have a want pointed at his throat. That's...something. So he offers something. "For the record, she has nothing to do with how I treat you."

[amourpropre]

Lucius pauses there, attempting to read any lie in Severus' expression and tone, but ultimately finds nothing sufficient to challenge. So, he takes up his cane and purchases, because if anything, he at least got what he officially came for. Sleeping dreamlessly for ten hours is going to be fun.

There's a silver lining for everything.

"Well, if you ever felt moved to enlighten me further, you know how to find me," he says in the moment before he will be making for the exit.