100 problems.

[amourpropre]

Who: Lucius Malfoy(?) and Narcissa Malfoy
What: A denizen of Baedal of relative newness evaluates his options and goes with this one.
Where: Sobek Croix
When: Sundown
Notes: None
Warnings: Nnnot yet

It's getting late.

Vague concern of becoming lost in the dense woods, so different than the other neighbourhoods he had seen, is a distant kind of worry and the least of the current concerns that Lucius Malfoy is currently working through. There are spells and enchantments for that sort of thing. There are also things for which there are not any spells and enchantments at all, magical principles dictating that nothing comes from nothing. Everything comes of something. That's actually rather the problem.

Rather than move upon the beaten road, Lucius moves in parallel to it, relying on trees and long shadows to keep him at least partway concealed from those who aren't looking for him to begin with. Boots will become filthy in damp dirt and scratching bramble, but they are also only one of two sets that he's been wearing for the last little while, and most of their polish and what made them fine has long since scrubbed down in scuffs and wear. Fabrics of good make and dark tone don't exactly blend in with his surroundings, but he isn't really counting on this either.

Nor has he ever done this before.

But sometimes he reads.

A Homenum Revelio charm is currently why he is moving with any certainty, the presence of the charm making itself subtly known to the person it detected like a chill, or a predatory shadow over her head.

Comments

[vanities]

...Narcissa finds herself momentarily stymied.

"You are a hateful man," she informs him, but she's trying, very hard, not to smile at him.

[amourpropre]

"I know."

Subtle hint of mock pity in this reply, poor you to marry one, my dear, before Lucius rather catches himself. Not that there is anything morally wrong in engaging in banter with the younger alternate version of one's wife and even if there was, morals are a relatively fluid kind of concept for any Malfoy worth his salt-- but he returns to his food and wine regardless, grey gaze flicking off in some other direction. It's like he'd said, about what they owed.

He is mostly done eating, as well, or at least satisfied himself to a point where a few more slower, smaller bites will have him near done. He finishes his glass of wine neatly, emptied container set down.

"I think I might retire for the evening."

[vanities]

Retiring from the field while you're still the victor, she doesn't say, realizing a moment later that it's actually easier to navigate this conversation when they're slightly at odds. At least then the boundaries are clearer, when she isn't searching for the safe middle ground between standoffish and too familiar. She doesn't owe him anything, no, but he's Lucius and he's hurt and her instinct-

-well, all right, her instinct has always been to burn down whatever hurt him. But after that, to help. To soothe. Only he isn't hers, precisely, and she doesn't know what's allowed, and she isn't used to having to think in terms of needing permission. It's unfamiliar and disconcerting, which automatically makes it annoying.

That isn't his fault, but that's annoying, too.

"I'll see you in the morning, then," she says, setting her own glass down beside her plate. At least this'll give her an opportunity to speak with her husband before the two of them meet. That- she thinks that would be best. "Do you need anything?"

[amourpropre]

Well he could take the bottle of wine with him, but refrains, getting to his feet instead and collecting up his cane in the process. Maybe if Lucius had more practice in living in a servant-less house, he'd go and take the dishes to the kitchen, or praise her on her cooking -- as it stands, he still isn't used to having no silver platter, despite recent shenanigans. Stealing is just another form of unrepentant taking, anyway.

"No. Just rest, thank you."

At least he doesn't have to be the only one unsure about how this works, or if he's meant to give her a 'thank you' that is less off the cuff and has more meaning, but affected sentiment was never needed before, so why start now?

"In the morning it is," he agrees, before moving back for the staircase in dignified retreat, the tap of his cane underscoring heavier footsteps.