#eloisvs

the dull lighting of the ministry of magic hardly does anyone any favors, yet eloise greengrass manages to take rita’s breath away.... every time she visits. which seems to be more and more often, these days. for some... reason. almost as if she’s looking for excuses to see her. so it’s not particularly surprising that her heart flutters a little bit faster in her chest when she walks across the department of magical law enforcements floor (and for once, it has nothing to do with her intense fear of eloise’s boss), her high heels clicking against the ground, making her presence known. she stops in front of her friend’s desk, and clears her throat. “good evening!” she says, smile practically radiating brightness. a neat folder is dropped down in front of her, and two tall coffee cups are placed next to it. “the coffee is for you. files are for mr lestrange. is he... around?” she asks, nerves creeping into her tone. she finds herself praying that he isn’t. "he’s not working you into the ground, is he? didn’t hear you slip out this morning, so i thought... “ she trails off, teeth digging into her lip. she doesn’t know what she thought. but then again, she also doesn’t know what they are. if anything at all.

disdain is washed off his features as his gaze wanders from rodolphus lestrange’s door to eloise greengrass. how someone like her could work for someone like him is beyond james ( but then again, doesn’t james also technically work for lestrange? ). and he doesn’t even know half of the corruption that runs through his department. but he still gives eloise a wide smile, eyes crinkling with kindness. “you ready?” he asks, hands digging into the pockets of his jeans. an eyebrow raises, and smile turns a little crooked, mischief slipping onto his lips. “don’t tell me you forgot about lunch. we’ve had this planned for hours.” ever since running into each other in the elevator, earlier that day. during the war, that’s basically an eternity. lots can happen in the span of three hours, after all.

it has only been HOURS since she found her roommate and COLLEAGUE dead on the floor of their apartment, but she’s already acting as if it has been WASHED off her, ERASED from her memory.  almost as if it never happened ---- as if there isn’t a deep feeling of DREAD ingrained in her bones. she doesn’t know herself if it’s FEAR for her own life, or grief over sturgis and benjy. but on the surface, any emotions are carefully disguised with a warm smile, EYES revealing nothing. but somehow, she’s still sure that eloise sees right through her. they’ve known each other for long enough to learn all of each other’s tricks --- all the plots, the mind games... they’ve shared it all before. so when she swoops in, carefully placing herself in the chair opposite her friend, the facade isn’t for her benefit. it’s so that rita herself won’t crack and break. “you got my owl!” she says, voice a little too bright, unnaturally cheerful. she places her peach cider on the table, and hands fold in front of her. shaking ever so slightly. “wasn’t sure if you would. i know it’s a bit late...” she trails off, the warmth in her voice never wavering, not letting an ounce of actual emotion slip through. it’s nearing 12 AM, but she needed to see another friendly face. someone familiar. just lose herself in someone else, if only for a little while, before the harsh reality of morning sets in. smile turns a little bit crooked ( and for a second, she ALMOST forgets that there might be someone out to get her ), and eyes become less hollow, more genuine. “i would ask if we’re going to your place or mine later... but i’m staying with a friend right now. she might mind.”