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Post by Nathaniel Rosier on May 30, 2009 9:32:23 GMT 1
All in all it had been a pretty good Christmas Day. Getting out of prison had definitely been a bonus, being released on probation early because of some nonsense like Christmas cheer and the judge wanting to get home to his family. Well Nathaniel wasn’t going to argue with that and he even considered holing up in the crummy Bed and Breakfast they’d found for him, sitting back and listening to the WWN. But what way was that to celebrate his new found freedom?
Instead he’d decided to skip town, apparating out of the place in a way that he knew would drag his probation auror away from whatever the hell normal, loving families did on this special day. The tracking charm was a bit of a nuisance, it meant he couldn’t apparate without the German Ministry knowing exactly where he’d gone. Still, there were other ways to travel. First he stole a bicycle from some idiot muggle, not because he particularly wanted travel by bike, just because it was fun.
Then he met up with one of his contacts from the illegal potions trade, one who could hook him up with a port key to Hogsmeade. A Particularly satisfying escape, the only downside being he couldn’t apparate now without tipping the authorities off. Damn, he’d have to talk Faust, who apparently knew a guy who had a friend that could break these tracking spells. Until then it was old fashioned walking for him. An irritation in the snow, but one that couldn’t quash the lingering good mood escape had instilled him for now. Although if it got any nippier he was going to get really annoyed.
Shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, he scowled in a way that suggested he wasn’t happy at all and trudged towards Scores. Nothing like a good old family reunion at Christmas. The club was dark, but Nathaniel got inside because the caretaker was leaving just as he arrived. That was lucky, he might have had to break a window or something otherwise. At least Nate assumed he was a caretaker as he had that scrawny look of a cleaner about him and why else would you be in a closed club?
“You’re here early Mr. Rosier.” The caretaker said with a respectful nod. Nathe gave him a funny look. Nobody was supposed to know he was even alive, let along know his name. Perhaps Silas had known he wasn’t dead all along, in which case the bastard owed him a hell of a lot of Birthday cards. Or maybe Silas had friends who knew he was coming and had only just tipped him off, which was weird, Nathaniel didn’t think Silas had any friends. In the end he decided to just run with it and see what happened.
”Yes. Yes I am.” He agreed walking into the club and dismissing the man with a wave. A swish of his wand lit the place up and he saw it was empty. There was a bar, though, so plenty to keep him occupied until somebody interesting arrived. Retrieving a bottle of gin he twisted off the cap and threw it over one shoulder (wouldn’t be needing that again). Nathaniel settled onto one of the bar stools, taking a mighty swig of gin and fishing out a cigarette from one pocket simultaneously. Drink and smokes, the perfect combination to while away the time. [/font]
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Post by Silas Rosier on May 31, 2009 9:40:30 GMT 1
Bah, Silas was far too young to be getting Alzheimer’s already. This had to be one of Murphy’s Laws or something. ‘If you ever need something, you’ll forget it at a critical moment’. At least he’d only left the stuff in his office, so fetching it would take, like, four minutes out of his day, tops. Walk in, get everything, and walk out.
One of the unlit fireplaces in the reception area suddenly roared to life in a rush of bright emerald flame. By the time the real Silas Rosier stepped foot inside Scores, brushing the ash off his clothing, the room was again empty. That didn’t mean everything seemed to be how he left it. Silas paused, glancing around, a slight frown on his face. Why the fuck were the lights on? No one was supposed to be here until at least another hour and the cleaner should be home by now.
Things didn’t get any better after he swung open the door to the main part of the club to find everything just as brightly lit. There wasn’t even anyone there that he could see, so how- ... wait a sec, why was some arsehole sitting at the bar? Fuck, like the place wasn’t obviously closed. Who the hell decided to go breaking and entering on Christmas day?
Silas quickly made his way over, mentally preparing himself for a confrontation, hand dipping into his pocket to find his wand. Granted, it wasn’t the first time someone had shown up at Scores outside of its opening hours, but there was a difference between cute blondes hovering shyly in the reception area and tall, broad-shouldered men barging all the way in and helping themselves to the booze while no one was looking. Same kind of build as half the bouncers actually, but Silas felt it was safe to guess he wasn’t an employee because none of them would stupid enough to waltz right in at these hours, let alone on Christmas. Still, he couldn’t be sure until he saw more than just the man’s back.
“Bar’s closed, arsehole,” Silas growled, jerking the wand to side in a movement which caused the gin to tear itself out of the stranger’s hands and skid to the opposite side of the bar. “You've got 30 of my fucking seconds to explain why you're here. Thrill me.”
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Post by Nathaniel Rosier on May 31, 2009 10:52:07 GMT 1
Nathaniel hadn’t exactly expected Silas to be pleased to see him. He hadn’t expected Silas to weep tears of joy and then perhaps they would hug and whip out the family photo album and while away the hours reminiscing about happier times. He had expected something though shock, confusion, anything really. Silas just sounded pissed and Nate felt he should have realised his little brother wouldn’t have changed from the ungrateful little shit he’d been as a kid.
Of course as an older brother Nathaniel felt it was his duty to try and piss Silas off further, especially since he’d wrenched the drink Nathe had been enjoying rather violently from his hand. ”Now Silas.” He said, an uncanny impression of their father on the few occasions Rosier Senior had deemed it necessary to step in and take a turn berating them in the place of their mother. ”Is that any way to talk to your long lost brother.”
He swivelled on the barstool, turning to face Silas with total nonchalance, but for the slightest widening of the eyes, surprise at his brother’s appearance. Now he knew why the cleaner had called him Mr. Rosier. It wasn’t like he’d expected to see the pimple-faced teenager he remembered standing there. Nathaniel didn’t draw his wand, even though Silas was still clutching his, he didn’t think it was going to come to a duel. Not yet anyway, plenty of time for that later.
”Miss me?” Nathaniel smirked. He didn’t bother to ask Silas how he’d been or what he’d been up to. He already knew he was running Scores and that was more than enough, as for how his brother had been feeling, frankly he didn’t give a shit. Nate turned his back on Silas again, looking down the bar to where the bottle of gin had slid away and signifying quite clearly that he didn’t consider the man a threat, at all. [/font]
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Post by Silas Rosier on Jun 1, 2009 12:37:28 GMT 1
“Now Silas.”
That voice. It couldn’t be who he thought it was. He must have been hearing things. The choice of words had just sent his brain on the wrong track. That man was in jail for the rest of his natural life and was easily about 65 years old by now. Which just left... No. He had been dead for over 20 years. So who the flying fuck was sitting there so smartly, stealing his booze?
That question was answered for him by the next words out of the man’s mouth. As the stranger on the chair spun around to face him, Silas was actually taken aback enough that the grip on his wand loosened momentarily. Well, for all of about four seconds before it tightened again, now aimed squarely between the strangers eyes as the look of shock on his face twisted back to its previous look of anger. He found himself struck by the simultaneous urges to both put his wand away and curse the man into oblivion. Of course, it was rather hard to do both at once, so for the moment the wand remained raised.
Nathaniel Roiser. It had to be. God fucking damnit, the man wasn’t even supposed to be breathing let alone sitting at his fucking bar. Granted, he looked a little worse for wear and in desperate need of a shave, but no one else could bear that much of a psycho resemblance in voice and appearance to ‘dear’ old Dad without being the man himself. Ohh, this little fucking family reunion was so many fucking ways away from welcome. What the FUCK.
As Silas’s brain slowly adjusted to the idea that yes, it was his brother not some kind of fucked up Inferi, he seemed to find his voice again. “You didn’t answer my question,” Silas snarled, still oozing hostility. No, really, in the name of all that was good and Holy in the planet, why was he there?
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Post by Nathaniel Rosier on Jun 2, 2009 9:30:52 GMT 1
While at first Nathaniel had been amused by Silas’s shock and anger that amusement was very quickly beginning to wear off and fade into his usual irritability. It wasn’t that big a deal, Merlin he’d only been missing for 25 years, get over it. And if he was getting his knickers in a twist over Nate breaking into his club, well it wasn’t like he’d respected his little brother’s boundaries when they were kids, why the fuck was he going to start now?
”I don’t recall you asking a question.” He rumbled back, being deliberately evasive. Nathaniel leaned over the bar a little, bored of waiting for Silas to give him his gin back and hoping to see some other liquor in easy reach. Nadda. And the cigarette he’d been smoking had burned right down while all this chit chat had been going on. He stubbed the end out on the bar, not that it made any difference, the surface remaining smooth and polished, no doubt protected by a ridiculous amount of charms.
Still, the fact that he’d tried to deface Silas’s property at all was enough to satisfy him for now and he brushed the cigarette butt and accompanying ash onto the floor with a sweep of his hand. ”Isn’t it enough to want to see my baby brother again after all this time?” He said with a rueful grin, slipping another unlit cigarette between his lips and pulling his wand out to light it. Once the first cloud of smoke was wafting hazily around his head he began twirling the wand like it was a baton.
He’d wait until Silas was really annoyed before he told him he’d spent his share of the family inheritance. Then he’d top it all off with the good news that he was here and here to stay. Nate was going to be making a nuisance of himself until Silas caved and gave him what he wanted. As far as he was concerned being family made Nathe entitled to dip into Silas’s funds whenever he wanted and if Silas said no… well, he’d just find a way to do it anyway. [/font]
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Post by Silas Rosier on Jun 3, 2009 12:57:11 GMT 1
The sight of the other man twirling the little strip of wood between his fingers was possibly the most aggravating thing that Silas had ever seen. Oh fucking hell. No way did they both share the same fucking habit!
Silas couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt this tetchy, which was quite a feat considering he was rather notorious for his irritability. Not since Dacian probably, but still, if anything was going to make him feel murderous, it was this. A not-so-beloved family member returning from the grave, breaking into his place of work, and being the same insufferable cocksucker he’d always remembered.
Of course, there was at least once major difference now compared to all those years ago: Silas had actually gotten big enough to defend himself from his older brother.
Silas’s wand flicked to the side to aim at Nathaniel’s hand and the mans wand violently wrenched itself free of its owner, slipping through his fingers abruptly and soaring in Silas’s direction, who caught it deftly. Without a second wasted, both wands aimed down, and with a loud crash and the flying of splinters, the barstool that Nathaniel was seated on exploded. The combined power of both the wands had ripped through even the protective charm-work.
That was the one good thing about family members. Probably the only good thing as far as Silas was concerned. You could use them as punching bag. They’d known you since the day you were born, and therefore knew the real you. There was no need to pretend. No need to affix a mask of geniality for the sake of blending in. Nathaniel wasn’t even meant to be alive, so no one would notice if he stopped breathing again.
Both wands moved to aim at his bothers chest, and Silas continued speaking through furiously gritted teeth. “This is very simple, so listen closely. If you move right, you lose your right hand. Left, you lose your left hand. Up, you lose an eye or a tongue. Move down, forwards or backwards you lose the first foot you step with. I catch you lying, you lose your fucking balls. Don’t answer, and I will make you answer. So, before I decide to make you bleed anyway, think quickly: Why. Are. You. Here?
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Post by Nathaniel Rosier on Jun 13, 2009 13:33:59 GMT 1
Silas didn’t seem too impressed with Nathaniel’s response, in fact he looked down pissed off. He always had been a prissy little bitch when he didn’t get his way, which was why Nate had felt it his duty as an older brother to put Silas back in his place by making him suffer. That and it was damn fun. Unfortunately it appeared Silas’s wizarding skills had improved somewhat in the last few decades and his wand was pulled from his fingers before he could so much as make a grab for it.
Fuck. Nathe knew he should have just incapacitated Silas, liberated him of his Gringotts key and stolen the contents of accounts. A plan that seemed even more appealing in hindsight as the barstool he was sitting on literally exploded out from under him. Anybody who has sat on something as it explodes can testify that it hurts like fuck, that is if there’s anything left of them at the end to testify. Nathaniel voiced this pain in a stream of expletives that would likely have made their mother turn in her grave,
As Silas made his smug, self-satisfied spiel Nathe concentrated on roughly picking the splinters from the palm he’d used to break his fall. He was going to fucking kill Silas. As soon as he could get close enough without losing limb he was going to use those limbs to beat the shit out of him. Patience wasn’t one of Nathaniel’s strong points, but he could play along for long enough to get close to Silas and strangle him with his bare hands.
”Money,” He sneered, wiping his palm across the thigh of his trousers to smear away the pinpricks of blood that had welled where the splinters had been. And he’d lost his ciggarette, what a fucking waste. Nathaniel fished the rather crumpled box, and a lighter too this time round, from his pocket and lit up again, not caring that Silas had threatened mutilation if he moved. ”And you’re going to give it to me.” It was growing increasingly difficult not act on the irritation that was rising at being at a disadvantage. [/font]
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Post by Silas Rosier on Jun 16, 2009 13:56:24 GMT 1
“You have got to be kidding me,” Silas spat without being able to stop himself. What the flying fuck made the other man think he could just waltz right back into Silas’s life and demand for free what he actually worked for? Granted, Silas had always treated his income as completely disposable, and he was notoriously spendthrift much to Jacaranda’s chagrin, but he knew for sure where he didn’t want his money going, and that was in Nathaniel’s general direction.
“Right.” The zero welcome that Nathaniel had was well and truly in the negatives now. Silas’s patience was practically non-existent in the first place and this was definitely one thing he didn’t want to deal with. “Time for you to leave,” he growled roughly, and Nathaniel was suddenly hoisted in the air like a giant hook had gotten hold of his collar and jerked him upwards off his feet. “Bye now.”
With that, Nathaniel was flung sharply across the room, out through the reception area and was sent crashing through the double doors of the club into the snow. As a final measure, the doors slammed shut of their own accord and sealed closed with a nauseating squelch, with the windows taking similar measures.
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Post by Nathaniel Rosier on Jul 7, 2009 14:27:13 GMT 1
”Do I look I’m kidding.” Nathaniel rumbled, dragging on his newly lit cigarette and surrounding the well placed scowl on his face by a cloud of smoke. He kept his gaze on the wands Silas was still pointing at him, not because he didn’t want to meet his brother’s eyes, but because even though it had been twenty years he could still remember that once one of them got an advantage they sure as hell weren’t going to waste it, so a spell was likely on the horizon. Perhaps he could dive behind the bar to avoid anything really nasty.
Of course even with Silas’s verbal warning and the barely discernable flick of his wrist, Nathaniel didn’t have time to react before the spell was yanking him into the air by the scruff of his neck. Silas may have decided it was time for him to leave, but that didn’t mean he had to go quietly. He began cursing quite colourfully, his words muffled by the way he was struggling like an angry kitten that had been put in a sack. Hopefully the similarity ended there and Silas wasn’t going to tie a rock to his ankle and throw him in a lake to drown.
Then he was being flung forcefully out of the club, the door slamming shut behind him even as he picked himself up out of the wet, grey slush of snow on the cobbled street outside. Nate kicked at the door, not remotely helpful against the barrier charm in place, but it felt damn good abusing Silas’s property like that. He needed to get back inside and remind Silas that he was older, taller and far more capable of putting him in a headlock and giving him a black eye or two. To do that, though, he needed a wand and Silas still had his.
Nathaniel paced up and down outside the door, glowering. “This isn’t over!” He threatened, not at all put off by the fact that he was talking to a building. Stalking away, Nate grinned and flicked the slightly crooked butt of his cigarette over one shoulder to be extinguished in the snow or, if he was lucky, set fire to the thatched roof of the nearest cottage. One of the advantages to being in an all magical village was that there would always be another witch or wizard nearby. Somebody who wouldn’t mind lending him a wand… Well, not if he forcefully liberated it at any rate.
He only returned to Scores when he had a brand new wand to play with. It didn’t really suit him, pine was too springy for his liking, but there were only a finite number of people stupid enough to leave their wand on the table in the pub where Nate could easily saunter by and snatch it up. Still he was damn good at it, but he was delayed by scamming the bartender into believing he had a tab so he could get a few fingers of rum in him.
It turned out to be a bit of a waste of time as Scores was open for business by the time he got back. It was hardly a challenge to break into an open establishment. Nathaniel sauntered in, ignoring the receptionists calls that he had to pay an entrance fee, half hoping one of the bouncers would follow. He was overdue a good brawl. Nate had to admit Silas had style though, Scores was far more impressive when it was open. [/font]
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Post by Silas Rosier on Jul 9, 2009 11:56:32 GMT 1
Of course Silas had been expecting Nate’s return. His brother had always had a pathological desire to win, and their last encounter hadn’t exactly gone well for him. Plus, Silas still had his wand. No self respecting wizard would just walk off without recovering it.
As a result, Silas hadn’t even bothered with the pretence of pretending to do work. He’d been out in the main club since the place opened, glancing at the entrance every two seconds for Nate’s burly form to appear, probably with a bouncer or two already in pursuit because he’d decided the best way in would be to kick down the door. He always had been that sort of a bastard as teenager and telling by their short encounter, nothing much had changed.
Yet, for some reason, Nate wasn’t appearing. The clock kept ticking, and nothing was happening. Eventually (try three minutes after he had expected Nate to show up) Silas’s attention had done what it did best in the absence of something immediate to occupy it and had started to wander. At some point he had made himself comfortable near the front of the club with a small group of regulars who had made Scores their ‘Christmas Tradition’ for the last five years. Thankfully the group’s moods weren’t dampened when they realised that even with the owner sitting with them they were still required to tip.
The comfortable seating, good booze and tolerable company had put Silas into a relaxed sort of mood. Godiva – who had decided to work Christmas to take advantage of the lack of House Fees Silas had put up as an incentive – had picked a jaunty little Christmas jingle for her stage round which Silas had never heard before but he quickly decided he liked. No one was complaining about her red and white Christmas bunny outfit either.
The nice little atmosphere Silas had set up for himself was promptly disturbed by the flustered voice of the receptionist shouting about fees at someone. Her voice was having a hard time penetrating through the music to where Silas was sitting, but he didn’t need to be able to hear her or even need to look around to make a guess as to what was causing his employees heightened agitation.
About time.
Silas excused himself, grabbed the bottle of vodka he’d been working his way through and pulled himself out of the chair. Nate had stopped near the entrance and had already attracted the attention of two bouncers, causing Silas to speed up in order to intercept them and wave them off with an “I’ll handle it.”
Once there, the look he gave his brother was like he was weighing him up, and Silas seemed to have stopped conveniently out of grabbing-length. Silas’s wand was drawn but hanging at his side, the neck of the bottle clasped in his other hand and Nate’s wand was located in one of his pockets. The question now was, was it a good idea to keep things somewhere with witnesses or someplace private? Oh well, the man’s actions could answer for him. Nate wasn’t going to be so easy to get rid of this time, he suspected.
“If you want money you’d better have a fucking good reason lined up for me to give it to you,” Silas said steadily.
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