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

[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.