* MAN / GOD

“MACDONALD.” she pauses , curiosity lingering within the air between them. it was no surprise she’d found him wandering around the darkened alley , and yet still for some reason she’d felt a cold chill rush down her spine . his stance was regal, as was his words that felt so eloquent that it took mary aback if only for a moment that he, himself, had shown her any shred of decency . normally, she’d be scolded and scowled at within the likes of the close. yet, tonight was different, tonight she’d donned a black cloak that covered her bodice if only to guise those who’d found her insufferable. ingredients stashed away at her hip, and interest piqued, she gives in. “ ’m afraid not , my night is just beginning . ‘ gentle shrug rolls from her shoulders, the company in which she’s kept anything but acceptable and yet she’s never been one to steer clear of a game of cat and mouse. “ lestrange , correct ? “ sickeningly saccharine tone laces the words she weaves . “ may i ask why it ended ? not even midnight and you’ve given in. “

“macdonald.” most definitely not a surname of note and she was likely not a pureblood, shame. a pretty face was often wasted on poor blood. raising a brow at the status of her night, he allowed a soft chuckle to escape his lips. “should i be questioning your motives? little good happens in these parts in broad daylight, let alone at night and i’m very much a man of the law.” satisfaction strikes him at her recognition of him and he nods, offering her a strong hand to shake. “rodolphus,” he confirms, dropping the formalities. how formal could one be in a dark alley with a stranger? nevertheless, he’s interested and he regrets his night coming to an early close. “i’m a working man, i’m afraid. i’ve had a long day and tomorrow will be another.”

WHERE: Diagon Alley WHEN: May 29, 3:27PM WHO: Open

Parts of the Daily Prophet article had been echoing through Lily’s head all day, causing small explosions of anger to happen under the surface. That they dared paint Benjy as a bloodstained, violent madman and had added that photograph and still feign neutrality … it was so transparent. They didn’t think he was innocent and didn’t even bother to hide it. And then there was the fact that Benjy’s story had gone to one of her ‘more experienced’ colleagues, and she was left reporting on minor stories. Light work, dull work. Work that allowed her to dwell on the way of reporting of the wizarding Britain’s biggest newspaper and grow angrier and angrier. In the end, it was the cobbled street of Diagon Alley that met Lily’s wrath. One stone sticking out was enough to send her stumbling. “Morgana’s saggy tits!” she exclaimed, before regaining balance, cheeks flushing. “I mean – oops.”

rodolphus despised big news stories. his commentary was always required, publicly and privately, yet in both his answer remained the same. he was a politician, he had little to say that wasn’t minced into something completely meaningless. the man’s guilt is unconfirmed, they’re investigating -- no further comments. wandering idly through the street - and yet still more purposefully than half its inhabitants - his attention was piqued by a loud complaint. amusement flashed across his features at the ordeal, especially since he recognised the person in question. a mudblood, reporter too. he has more runs ins with reporters than he really likes. “a bad day already?” he asked in jest, choosing to ignore her interesting profanities for the sake of her dignity. “surely they should be keeping you busy up in there?” nodding vaguely towards the building, he managed to keep his expression pleasant enough.

status : open

location : diagon alley

timestamp : may 30 / 11:13 pm

Gone was the bustling noise of bodices weaving past one another within the slender alleyway that was Diagon Alley, what replaced it was as close to silence as Mary could hope. Sliding beneath the shadows, she’d gone unnoticed entering –– and now exitng ––– Knockturn Alley and making her way towards the partially dim storelined streets. Perhaps, in actuality, it hadn’t been her smartest approach. Yet, there was an inkling of curiosity that ate away at her, as if an itch upon flesh that she seemingly could not scratch. Just hours earlier there had been whispers of fright, witches and wizards turning at every corner scared for what they might find lingering in the shadows. However, Mary was certain that if they were to come across her, there’d be nothing but a snide glance and an albeit welcoming remark as to the why. Why was she seen parading about Knockturn Alley when just about everyone was under scrutiny for their actions, what was she hiding? Footfalls are light as ever, the girls arms wrapping around slender bodice if only to keep her warm as a slight summers breeze makes its way towards her. The streets had gone silent, and for once she’d found a small solace in it. Perhaps it’s why she wasn’t paying attention. Although, it was the denial of the fact that the liquor lingering upon her lips from hours prior was to blame for her mindlessness. Taking a swift turn into the open cobblestone, bones crashing against –––– “ Do ya mind?” Gaze now trailing up her companies figure before heaving a small sigh, arched brow follows as thinned lips spread into a slanted smirk. “Going somewhere are we?”

rodolphus was always caught up in shifty work in shifty places, unbeknownst to everyone whom it didn’t involve and out of the hours in which he was paid. the shiftiest of said work was always found in knockturn alley. an arch brow raised at the presence of another, caught up in thought and inattentive of her surroundings. it was in poor interest to be so oblivious and thus, perhaps somewhat deliberately his shoulder rammed into her delicate frame. everyone had a reason for wandering so late and he was intrigued as to what excuse she’d offer. “apologies,” he mused, her smirk mimicked on his own sharp features and amusement glimmered in his eyes. “home actually, the exciting part of my night is over.” looking her up and down, he merely offered a pleasant smile. “can the same be said for you, miss--?”

INTRODUCING: RODOLPHUS LESTRANGE