questions are never indiscreet; answers sometimes are

[amourpropre]

Who: Lucius Malfoy (Sr) and Severus Snape β
What: The older generation have some catching up to do.
Where: Aspic.
When: Misdi late afternoon.

He hadn't been kidding about the mulled wine, because to joke about alcohol is a sorry state of affairs. The scent of it, rich and spiced, permeates the air and almost lends it warmth in contrast to the chill of the outdoors. Presumably, the comfortable tavern offers other things, but everyone has a niche.

Already there before Severus can arrive, Lucius does not put on the appearance of a man preparing to spring a trap. He would probably not be visible if this were the case. He sits in one of the low wooden chairs not far from the hearth, a leg folded over the other and observing the flames and cracking splinter of firewood within them rather than the clientele. He is, perhaps, not as Severus last left him, while also being exactly that; aged a little beyond his years, wearing the resulting weariness and injury of the final wizarding war as something visible if difficult to name. Despite his recline, he is not comfortable.

He is also dressed in Muggle sensibilities, with only the compromise of being a little dark in his colours and overly formal for his surroundings. The tavern boasts a somewhat low ceiling and a bare trickling of clientele; Lucius' occupation of the hearth-side is remarkably quiet, and no one has approached him save to make sure he didn't want anything more to drink.

Cane rests, black and silver, against his leg, with his hand on the hilt as his only but very significant sign of vigilance.

Comments

[subtlescience]

If only it didn't matter, he thinks bleakly. With a curt nod - the closest he will come to thanks at the moment - he accepts the dismissive gesture as the end of that particular topic. He has no intentions of putting that aspect of his life at risk.

"Forgive me if I don't continue to slowly circle round the subject which interests me most at the moment, but the incident two weeks ago?" His tone is rather grim. Knowing Lucius' loyalties makes this somewhat easier; Severus feels no need to pretend to be eager regarding the whereabouts of the Dark Lord. He decides he doesn't want to know what caused it to burn as it did - or why it burned at all. All he wishes to know is whether Voldemort is in Baedal. "I need nothing more than a simple yes or no."

There is a subtle lowering of his chin; he fixes the other man with a searching look. "Is there cause for concern?"

[amourpropre]

That gets a blank look at first, before dim recognition settles in his expression; reluctantly, without relish. He's long since left behind raw nerves and frazzled animal-fear, but the memory of ever knowing such is enough to know some disgust for himself. Left hand stretches fingers almost unconsciously. "No," Lucius states, simply. "Simply a rather careless, quite stupid display of experimentation."

And he expands on that no further; if Severus regards the incident anything like he did, then all that matters if Lord Voldemort's presence, or rather, the lack thereof.

"It did give most of us a startle."

[subtlescience]

If he feels relieved, he doesn't show it. Perhaps because whatever relief might accompany these assurances is hidden beneath a morass of other frustrations. But he does relax, if only slightly. Severus can't say he trusts Lucius at the moment - unknown quantities and the like - but knowing he was not alone in his reaction is comforting. In a way.

"Very well." And with that, the topic is finished, leaving him to sort through a thousand other questions he doesn't want to ask. Finally, he settles on determining who he is dealing with at the moment. "How long have you been in Baedal?"

[amourpropre]

"Three months, or thereabouts."

Short of asking anyone at the Inn if they remember what particular day a rather moodily frightened middle-aged wizard stormed through the building from green-tiled room to the early morning outdoors, Lucius has no clear idea what exact day he arrived. It wasn't the day he left, after all, and it's all a bit of a blur.

He sets emptier earthenware down, and folds his hands together once more. "And it certainly feels like it."

[subtlescience]

"I imagine it would," he replies rather cryptically; after all, he's been in this position aboard the Barge and is no stranger to feeling displaced. He wouldn't go so far as to say he sympathizes with Lucius, but there is some empathy, at least. Even discounting his experiences aboard the Barge, he was here for a week without Martha. Lucius has been here three months without Narcissa - and worse, watching another man act the part of her husband.

Very well. Pity, too.

"You have a complaint with Hellsing." It's. Sort of a question. More of a prompt.

[amourpropre]

There's a twitch of an eyebrow raise at this assertion, but Lucius doesn't deny it. Flat refusal to meet somewhere as opposed to having preference is a telling thing, for all that should Severus had been intentionally trapping him, it would have been a clumsy attempt indeed for someone like him.

He lifts a shoulder in shrug. "My alternate works there. Wizardry for hire. I'd rather remain without involvement, truly. What business have you found there for yourself?"

[subtlescience]

"The sort of business which pays the bills," he replies dismissively. In other words, professional courtesy prevents him from discussing it - and money is the sole reason he works there. "Unfortunately, my situation does not allow for me to be selective in my choice of work. Hellsing was an immediate opportunity."

And he saw that Lucius and Narcissa worked there and thus assumed it would be an acceptable measure, but that goes unsaid. This Lucius can figure it out for himself - and, too, that the invitation to meet at Hellsing was down to the assumption mutual employment rather than a cackhanded trap.

[amourpropre]

Pride hasn't gotten Lucius terribly far. He is disguising injuries beneath his clothes and certainly isn't regaling Snape with where he was two weeks after his induction into Baedal, or that he probably would have been grateful for the opportunity to work, at least at first. No, none of that, just a slightly condescending lift to the corner of his mouth (brief though it is) and a blink in place of a nod.

"Baedal demands compromises," he does concede. "Wizarding Britain is so very far away."

[subtlescience]

"So it is." What Severus doesn't say is how long Wizarding Britain has been far away for him. His adjustment period was far shorter; he had something of a head start.

For a moment, he fights the temptation to check the time. It likely hasn't been as long as he thinks it has, but an hour is not so long, either way. "Is there anything else of which I should be aware?"

An offer for Lucius to tell him about the existence of a doppelganger, sure, but also casting his net again. Perhaps there are others besides the Lestranges and the Malfoys. Perhaps Lupin is here, somewhere in the midst of Baedal, or Grindelwald, or Dumbledore.

[amourpropre]

There's no Lupin, or Grindelwald, or Dumbledore, but there is a Lovegood, a Potter, a Rosier. But none of these names really flash by Lucius - even Harry's existence as Sebastian LeMat doesn't register too highly, and he's never considered that to be his secret to speak about. Having as little to do with the Boy Who Lived is an appealing retirement plan.

No, just the silent thing left between them, and he wonders how much Severus already expects. Lucius knows he was fairly conspicuous already.

Fingers splay, curl in against his palm. "Yes," he says, after a moment, the tiniest crack in the otherwise iced over welcome that Severus has so far gotten. Fair is fair; he told one of them already. Not that he will express this, at all. "You have yourself a younger analogue as well. Quite different to you, although similarly covert in approach. It took him longer to come to me, and I think he only did so because I found evidence of him first."

He had hoped, actually, that it was his contemporary sitting in front of him now. But things change.

[subtlescience]

And that, he decides, is confirmation he didn't particularly want. But he did need it. Forewarned is fore-armed, and he would like to avoid his analogue at all costs. In spite of this mental assessment, however, he shows no outward reaction to the news. Whereas Lucius twitches his hands - something he has come to think of as a release of tension - or tilts his chin or the thousand other tics he has come to associate with the other man, Severus is almost preternaturally still.

Save for a breath drawn in, slowly released, and a slight lift of an eyebrow - all as if to say Oh, well. He is taking this news far better than expected, or appears to be. Later, he'll find a nice brown paper back into which he can hyperventilate.

"And others?"

[amourpropre]

"You've only the one."

Kidding, identified as such if only because that dryly impatient tone of voice can only be facetious. Lucius finishes off his wine, and doesn't beckon for a second helping. "Evan Rosier, if you can cast your mind back far enough. Antonin Dolohov is present and harmless, except to himself and anyone in his more immediate vicinity. Lovegood, the Quibbler editor.

"But I do not pay much attention to the network, I will admit. You'd do better to ask the others." Oddly enough, with exception to the younger Severus, his business finds him casting his net wider than those of their community, even one so tailored to his comfort and principles.

[subtlescience]

Severus takes the suggestion to ask the others as another hint that he should give up his charade and promptly goes quite deaf to it. Instead, he mulls over this roster he currently has: two Malfoys, Narcissa, Rosier, Dolohov, the Lestanges. And on his side of things, Granger and Xenophilius. Likely straddling the fence is his doppelganger.

Even if the Lucius before him is reformed, Severus is outnumbered. Vastly so. After a long moment, he gives a thoughtful nod. This is enough to be getting on with for him.

"If you'll excuse me, I have other matters which require my attention." Such as ensuring the cavalry isn't sent to rescue him. He has the information he needed, and has never been much of one for socialisation, anyway. Later, once he's had time to consider his next course of action, he'll invite Lucius out for dinner. Or something. Drinks. Bemoaning their lot in life. The usual. "I am most obliged for your time and candor."

[amourpropre]

There is little left to study. There wasn't much before. Lucius could fancy he can make deductions about Severus' careful stillness, but little more than guesswork based off his own response to a doppelganger, and knowing what he knows of Snape. More detail is not offered when it is not asked for; Lucius remains sitting where he is in comfortable lean, with no reason to leave the warm space by the hearth or make gestures of seeing the other man to the door of a public building.

"It was nothing," he dismisses, politely. "Go see to your matters." And with that, he freely leaves Snape to go and endlessly think on all he is shared, feeling rather relieved that he has less of that to do, himself.