from the palace to the riverside

[amourpropre]

Who: Lucius Malfoy (Sr) and Severus Snape α
What: Creepers will creep.
Where: Somewhere in Badside.
When: Now. Sundown.

Rain clings to steel and shakes off in earnest by the time heavy footsteps are coming down the zigzagged fire-escape-turned-main entranceway.

The sky has deigned not to open up its downpour for the moment, but the smell of water and ozone hangs in the cooling air and the sky remains angrily clouded. Lucius' coat is damp from earlier in the day, a black garment of too fine a make for this end of town, almost snagging on the grimy stairs as he descends, shoes finding asphalt, as does the end of his cane. He arrived with nothing and leaves with nothing, thus making whatever business he had inside the red-brick apartment complex somewhat mysterious, but wherever he is going to next, he is clearly in no rush.

He walks. Eventually, there will be somewhere interesting he can slither into. A bar. A bookstore. A quiet restaurant. A brothel. (No.)

Comments

[amourpropre]

"I understand."

Which feels weird. That Lucius should understand. Not that dealings with the Ministry were ever particularly wholesome, from strategic donations of galleons through to threatening the right families to achieve an end, but those were politicians. He folds one leg over the other. "You caught me on my way back to Sobek Croix from a meeting. Two gentlemen-- fences, interested in the purchase of fog items-- in an apartment I'm quite sure wasn't theirs. I've a notion it went well enough.

"I've been trying at this." Already, he means. Talking to the natives, or the not-so-natives who've been here a trifle longer than himself. "And I would prefer to work, additionally, with a commodity of higher value," and he tips cane in a subtle lean to indicate the conversation at hand.

Time is money, and all, and more money means a little more time before things are terrible again.

[inkdamage]

In another world, Severus will develop subterfuge skill beyond anyone's imagination; in this world, in his lifetime, that capacity has been re-directed into assassination. He is still eloquent, smart, sharp - but that ability to manipulate words is so deeply entrenched in a viciousness that he can't fake it, and though he's got a better-than-expected handle on his temper, that handle doesn't extend to the impulses.

Very calmly murdering someone who's offended or frustrated him him is worse than yelling at them for it; neither are constructive. Severus realizes this. Thus, they are here.

(Not... that he's some kind of mindless killer, just that shit happens, and he'd rather be left unbothered.)

"This isn't an industry I'd like to remain in entrenched in," he admits, with all the icy aloofness one might expect of him. "But it's something that can be very profitable very quickly, and leave the both of us with more time and means to move forward with."

[amourpropre]

"Naturally. A project to wile away the summer."

Figuratively speaking, tone dry. It's getting colder, actually, which was never a concern before.

Lucius lists back into silence, then, studying the polish on his cane for lack of anywhere better to look. Not quite the same thing as what Severus Snape, in another universe, did with his chemistry set to fund his school things. But pride would probably twinge more if it hadn't already kept irritating himself whenever he spent necessary funds accumulated by his younger self and his pretty wife, or contemplated the blasted employment office which he wound up. Not bringing himself to do.

Possibly at the mercy of the people that work there, really.

"What ground have you made thus far?"

[inkdamage]

"To be fair, it's not like this is explicitly illegal."

Yes, yes... because undermining authority by way of abusing the fact that Baedal merely does not have a fully developed anti-narcotics task force in their government makes it better.

... Maybe it does.

"I've no idea. I proved what effects it had and that it doesn't kill people, sold the lot that I had to three people, and judging from what I've heard they've made, I rather think I've rather been ripped off. Now there's some fucking-" oh, he does that in this universe, does he? "-vampire lord who wants to talk to me about not going through ... whatever all that was."

[amourpropre]

Occasionally, Lucius peers at Severus like he is an interesting insect that needs study. Fortunately, this isn't unusual for Lucius, and he manages to refrain from it when it's actually his turn to speak.

"Vampires," he says, with a flat sort of cynicism. "They do seem to make a culture here, don't they?"

[inkdamage]

Severus shrugs, spreads his hands.

"I believe it's the same one that oversaw those executions before all that unpleasantness." Well, they're still English. "So there's a certain familiarity with them, anyhow."

Back-stabbing, circular victimization, eating their own; the drugs he makes are addictive tenfold to supernatural beings, and much of his prospective users are not at all human. It shouldn't be a humorous remark.

[amourpropre]

This is all profoundly unwise. But it's a difficult thing, to shake the idea that Snape tends to know what he's doing. Even twenty-five-year-old drug dealing Snape.

"Well, if you were after a demographic known for their more addictive personalities, I can't say you didn't find it," he notes, after a lengthy enough pause of consideration at all of the everything that is coming out of Severus' mouth.

If he ever meets his contemporary-- "You wish me to be diplomatic at a vampire lord."

[inkdamage]

"You've been diplomatic to far less, and far worse."

Which is which? He doesn't say.

But he's got a point, Lucius.

[amourpropre]

Well.

Yes.

But if it seems like it's been a while, that would be because it has.

Still, Lucius doesn't allow hesitation there. "Not to those who would consider me food, but I take your point. Assuming fair terms are named between us, then yes, I can help you." Dryer, he adds; "Left to your own devices, I'd hate to think the outcome."

Because Lucius is the picture of all things capable and responsible, left to his own devices.

[inkdamage]

A sharp smile. They're both so well behaved anyway, of course.

"Pending you don't tell anyone who you're working with, and I never have to deal with the business end, I'll go half with you."

He's not a moron - Severus knows full well the value of someone skilled in these arts, as well of the value of silence. He knows Lucius Malfoy isn't going to accept anything less than that, and so he's not even going to try to work him down to something.

[amourpropre]

It's good, sometimes, when your reputation precedes you. Across alternate realities, even.

Severus won't push going lower and Lucius doesn't desire to aim for higher than half, accord wordlessly reached as he tips his chin in at a nod, satisfied and almost pleased with the other man for not trying anything so silly as squabbling over what is clearly rightfully Lucius'. "That suits me," he confirms. It had want to.

[inkdamage]

Sometimes, there are concessions that Severus is willing to make - this is one of the rare ones. It's not so much that he doesn't think he could deal with Lucius otherwise, just. He knows better, and you get what you pay for.

So he nods. They have an accord.

... And then he looks like he doesn't know what to do with himself for a moment, because he doesn't. In a way, they'd been friends, once; who knows what these two men are to each other now, besides semi-familiar opportunity.

"I'll contact you - with the CiD. The old fashioned way doesn't offer much privacy."

He flexes his left hand, nearly subconscious, when he says so.

[amourpropre]

"Do be careful not to contact the other one."

Cane used to lever himself back up, more or less taking promise of future contact as a segue into a meeting concluded, Lucius does have to consider his own actions a moment. Perhaps he should brush away the appearance of dismissal and urge conversation into catching up as he undoubtedly would if this was Snape-contemporary, or closer to it before Snape-dead.

But perhaps that isn't the best idea just yet, while transaction is still clean between them. "For all that we only bear passing resemblance."

[inkdamage]

It's fine. Severus expects nothing but business, not only because of their differences, but because he is who he is anyway. Even if there weren't any of these vast hurdles of awkwardness due to their positions, there'd be no self-depreciating pangs of abandonment. He is, simply put, used to it.

"I would be a more privileged man to be able to mistake a thing like that."

... Which could mean anything. He rises as well, and once more extends his hand. It's not as if Lucius can walk out the door.

[amourpropre]

Whatever that means, Severus.

And Lucius doesn't ask - he is mostly glad he doesn't have to ask assistance out the room when Severus readily offers it. Wordlessly, Lucius once again clasps Severus' wrist, and braces himself for the ever vaguely uncomfortable sensation of side-along Disapparition.

[inkdamage]

It's dark out by now, materializing in the park from which they'd vanished. Severus steps away, displaying the same unease with physical contact he's always displayed and none of the grace in which he'll handle it in his later years. Without looking at Lucius, he pulls something out of the front pocket of his coat, and then goes through it - even in the dim light it's apparently a black cigarette box, an envelope, and a folded sheet of paper. He pulls apart the envelope and puts everything else back in his pocket, before handing it to Lucius.

"Don't tell anyone about me. Tell them what you're doing if you want, but not that it's with me."

Whatever he does, it'll be on his own terms.

[amourpropre]

"I would keep it to myself, if possible."

This is said in a tone of voice that is as dry as the Sahara, thus making it an understatement. For all that he might have some misplaced care for Narcissa, the idea of her knowing anything of the sort about such an endeavor is a little nightmarish, negative or positive. And he's already made his feelings about his alternate quite plain enough for one evening.

The envelope is taken and classlessly opened enough for him to check inside, unsure if such tokens should be insulting or. Well. No, not anymore, even if it used to be Lucius handing people fistfuls of money for favours such as silence. That they do have something of a business venture helps.

[inkdamage]

Considering there's several thousand shekels in paper bills in that envelope, Lucius had damn well better take it. It's not something that Severus is going to be laying in offering again, for both financial and pride-related reasons.

He looks like he might say something else -

- doesn't.

"Goodnight."

And then he's gone.