Tentative Steps (Silas)

Ouch. Just... ouch.

Strip Clubs were no less prone to workplace accidents than any other establishments that sold alcohol to complete and utter morons. Unfortunately, when you combined morons that spilled their drinks on the floor without telling anyone and dancers in seven inch stiletto heels the results were inevitably problematic. One of the girls had taken a pretty serious fall and likely fractured something in her ankle. Silas had wandered out of his office merely for a distraction and to ensure he wasn’t going to get slapped with a Workplace Safety suit.

By the time Rickie arrived most of the scene was over. The girl had gotten one of her friends working at the club to take her by Floo Powder to St. Mungo’s to ensure the healing job wasn’t blotched (she needed a good ankle to work, after all) and Silas had just finished ordering the closest person to get the spill cleaned, because, you know, vanishing the mess himself was clearly too much effort. Everything had gone back to its regular swing.

Heading back to paperwork was somewhat anti-climatic now. Not looking forward to it. At all. With a hint of desperation Silas took a look around to see if there was anything else that could possibly need interfering in to delay the inevitable. Everything was in order except for one particular anomaly; a man sitting on his own and ignoring everything else. Ah, the displaced customer who should have walked into a regular bar instead, a peeve of strippers everywhere because they tended to snatch glances but refuse to tip, claiming they were ‘just there for the booze’.

This man however looked more like he was contemplating suicide than trying to get a free perve. What, did Ed throw him out of the Hogs Head or something? He had a look of familiarity about him too. The clincher came when a very confused bartender filled up a glass of bottled water and left it at that. If he wasn’t there for the alcohol or the peep show what was it? Most likely been dumped, fired or something equally pathetic, these stories were rarely interesting. The majority of people’s lives seemed to be lacklustre at best.

But still, if false curiosity could get him out of reordering employment records into the new filing system Jacaranda Mulciber was insisting on, fine by him. Until the owls came back with more information on Christopher Newell, Cain Heath and Jacob Abel he was stuck with legitimate work and as a general rule the more on the level something was the more grindingly irritatingly boring it became until there was a high likelihood he would just stab himself (or Ed) in the eye for something different.

Affixing on a practiced air of sociability Silas wandered over, hands behind his back just for something to do with them. ”You know, I’ve seen a lot of people walk in and out of this place for a lot of different reasons, but you’re the first one that’s come for the water,” he said, the corners mouth lifting automatically into a rehearsed smile.

As Rickie brought up his name the corner of Silas’s mouth twitched unpleasantly. It was difficult for Rickie to miss seeing it as he was staring right at him. ”Connery,” he repeated matter-of-factly with a hint of distaste. The name had bad associations. That explained why the man looked so familiar then, on a closer inspection Adrian and the man he could only guess was his brother shared a similar face shape and brow, although Rickie had a slimmer chin in comparison. Insane stature evidently ran in the family as well.

Still, he accepted the hand and shook it firmly. ”Silas Rosier. Nice to meet you,” he replied automatically, eyes flicking momentarily to the scars on Rickie’s neck. Okay, those looked unusual, but it was not generally considered good conversation to ask about such things within seconds of meeting someone. He could bring that up later if an opportunity came up for it not to sound like an interrogation.

Silas had as yet not sat down if only because meeting Adrian’s brother wasn’t high on his to-do list. Family members had a nasty habit, of, you know, liking each other, and somehow he didn’t see himself and the ex-auror kissing and making up any time soon. But, none the less, if there was one way to annoy Adrian it had to be to get on the right side of his brother, he reasoned.

Rickie was clearly not the most enthused in conversation despite his best efforts to appear otherwise; he had the deadened sort of look Silas come to associate with death, although time it wasn’t his fault. It was strange how much easier it was to read emotion in others when you didn’t possess any yourself to distract you.

”No relationship to one Adrian Connery I hope?”

”If you say so.” Lies. Spout them often enough and you start learning when they’re employed against you, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out Rickie was bullshitting about his family through his teeth. Silas had already done background checks on Adrian, but it wasn’t until now he remembered that Rickie’s name had come up on a list of the man’s relatives. Run off to war, apparently, which went a way as to explain the scars. If he had of known Adrian’s family was hanging around he might have bothered to learn more about them. Really, the dislike Rickie seemed to harbour just made it better. What had Adrian gone and done to drive his own brother against him, eh?

”I can’t say me and Connery get on all that well, no,” he admitted, sitting down on the stool to Rickie’s left and putting his right elbow on the bar. A night of ‘let’s verbally abuse Adrian’ was absolutely fine by him. He still needed to owl Adrian about money owed actually, but that was going to have to wait until Vivian’s killer was located. Extra points if it caused Adrian to have to declare bankruptcy.

”I imagine he’d have a shitfit if he saw me talking to you actually,” he added with a right sided grin to scope out Rickie’s reaction, eyes darting to the cigarettes as they were pulled out. He wasn’t a religious smoker unlike a number of people he knew. Evidently the wizarding community hadn’t gotten the smoking-causes-cancer memo quite as well as the muggle world had. Despite that Silas’s cravings were more alcohol than nicotine related, but who was he to say no when the opportunity arose? Vanishing charms were always there for the smoke. ”Got a spare of those?”

Oh yes, he and Rickie were going to get along just fine at the current rate. There had to be a way to turn being on good terms with Adrian’s brother as a weapon, but that really came down to how well Adrian got along with Rickie. In a one-sided situation he could use Rickie as a shield against any more pesky blackmail attempts, but if the loathing was mutual it didn’t work nearly as well. In that case he could just experiment to see how far you could drive two brothers apart. The bonds of family could only stretch so far, no? Consider it a ‘social experiment’.

Accepting the cigarette, Silas put it in his mouth and touched the tip of his wand to the end to light it. It had been a while since he last smoked, he’d have to remember to do it more often if he could find a good place to buy cigarettes. His lungs were clearly not as well trained to coping with smoke as his liver was to booze, but oh well. As Rickie exhaled he made a casual flicking motion with the wand to reactivate the anti-smoke charms and the tiny cloud dissipated into nothing.

”That doesn’t surprise me in the least,” Silas agreed, signalling the bartender for a drink. Might as well knock out two important organs in one go. ”From what I’ve seen he’s an obstinate, sanctimonious fuckwit oblivious to his own bullshit. Pardon the language,” he said, adding the last bit on merely as a formality as he couldn't care less if Rickie was offended. For all of Adrian’s holier-than-thou garbage, lying, blackmailing, cheating (totally what tricking him into setting off the anti-dark wizard charm had been, yup) and association with and the aiding of batshit-insane homicidal vampires with a criminal record a mile long was hardly what you’d consider to be noble traits. ”Standards for accepting Aurors must have dropped since I was younger,” he muttered more to himself than Rickie, his own failed attempt in that field coming to mind. "I take it Adrian doesn't like you either then?" he dropped experimentally.

Rickie’s manner was starting to get a little distracting. Was it physically impossible for the fellow to sit still? It was like he was expecting someone to walk in and snuff him. ”Sorry, you waiting for someone? You seem a little fidgety.” he asked, eyeing the way Rickie seemed to be trying to pay attention to everything at once. Admittedly Silas didn’t have much experience with war veterans.