he never forgot a face -- he might not be the most effective with names, but a face was something he easily tucked away and the second her saw her, this wasn’t a name he struggled with -- grace tuft, last of her family. wizengamot seat holder. it had been splashed across the papers so carelessly, he would be a fool if he didn’t recognize the girl. one short of an annihilated line -- fate had been kind for to her for a moment, he couldn’t help but wonder how quickly till that faded --Â
“grace tuft, isn’t it?” not a stranger to playing dumb as he burrowed his hands in his pocket, plastering that sympathetic smile she needed to see so easily, “your loss -- i can’t imagine” as solemn as society expected it, every word resonating the heavy heart hat he was supposed to have. when in reality - he couldn’t imagine how they had been so careless, if he had a say -- it wouldn’t have been handled till the summer, the job was clearly not done. she was proof of their failure.Â
@gracetuft​​
