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diana_citanul in ootp_united

Where: Outside the entrance to Suspyre
When:  Midnight
Why: Death Eater spying
Rating: R, probably...
Who:  Diana, Samantha

Diana waited outside the entrance to Suspyre, standing in the shadows and avoiding the Death Eaters who came and went.  She wasn't sure if she should be waiting-- Sirius Black had never sent her notice of whom he was sending to replace himself in this endeavor.  Maybe she was just duped and he wasn't going to follow through.  She hadn't known what to entirely make of him.

The night air was chilly, so she drew her thick cloak further about her, watch the streets carefully.  It was going to be a long night, regardless if she had to do this with someone else or not...  The steady beat that made the cobblestones under her feet vibrate, even out here, said that the party was on... Now, the hard part was how to properly crash it...

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Diana gave her one last smile, turning away towards the entrance. Her entire demeanor changed. Instead of walking, she strutted. Her hair swung, as did her hips.

She pulled out her ID card and shoved it under the nose of the thug guarding the door, tapping her foot in impatience. "Finally," she muttered as he opened the door to allow them passage, inwardly cringing as the music assaulted her ears. The entire room seemed to beat with it-- the columns and floors were writhing with snakes. It always looked so odd coming in.
It wasn't long before a Death Eater strolled up to them, already well on his way to being fall-down drunk. It took him a moment to get the women in focus and, when he did, he seemed to decide that Samantha was the best candidate for his suave attentions.

"Heeeey there, shexshy," he slurred, taking an unsteady step forward and spilling a great deal of his current drink down his own front. It smoked where it touched the fabric of his robes. "Wanna dance?"
Diana inwardly grimaced. She understood the visceral reaction, but... One had to curb it in settings like this. They had to play a part. She discreetly wiped the one finger under the nose-- hoping that same was still paying attention.

"Why would she want to dance with you?" Diana laughed, stepping forward to diffuse the situation, gently pushing the Death Eater back. "C'mon, you'll slosh your drink all over her. Club rules, you can't carry your drink onto the dance floor. You know how rowdy the snakes get when that happens. Besides... you haven't danced with me yet..." she said temptingly.
This turn of events was just fine by the aspiring Casanova. He attempted what he probably thought was a dashing smile, but what was really more of a perverse leer, and leaned towards Diana.

"Are you...a good dancer?" he asked conspiratorially.
She grinned and leaned in, the overpowering, acrid odor of his drunken breath assaulting her nose. "The best ever," she more panted than said, leaning back and tugging on the collar of his robe. He didn't even seem to really recognize her in this state... which could be good or bad. "I'll dance with you if you'll buy me a drink afterward..." A drink she wouldn't partake of, but she doubted he'd notice that...

Sometimes, it helped if they thought they were going to get some full-frontal snogging out of the deal, but one had to be careful not to get their hopes up too much...
It wouldn't do to snog this one, anyway. He could barely stand up, and was probably going to be sick all over the dance floor at some point. He laughed and swayed, a rhythm-less movement that suggested he wasn't dancing, but rather attempting to stand up at his own personal angle, which had nothing to do with the position of the floor.
"Yes," Diana declared. "She's right... let's have the drink first... maybe then you can keep up with me on the dance floor..." she half escorted, half dragged the man to the bar... "Besides, you were going to tell me more about your important news, remember..." she prompted, hoping he wasn't so drunk that he couldn't remember that bit... "Are you really getting that big of a promotion?" she pushed.
"'m drinkin' to celebrate," the Death Eater slurred, effectively answering Diana's question. But he kept looking at Samantha.
The Death Eater grinned. This was the life. In the Dark Lord's good graces, drunk as a skunk, with two beautiful women fawning over him. Yeah.

Little did he know that this attitude was going to make him a perfect target. Bragging came naturally to a drunk man with a good ego boost.
Diana wished she had mentioned a casual signal for 'good job/keep it up!' Because that was exactly the way she felt about Samantha's tactics... She was picking up on the game and playing perfectly.

"Yeah, Lucas," she drawled out. "Tell her all about it... I mean, you totally deserve it after everything... Having to take care of a stupid muggle and travel so far each day... Finally the Dark Lord is recognizing you by showing up when the prisoner is moved. So when's the big day?"
"Yeah!" Lucas agreed adamantly, waving his drink. "Overext--overex--taxin' myself for some stupid Muggle. Fin'ly gettin' some recogni--gettin' rewarded."
"S'why 'm gettin' my promotion," Lucas declared. "Day after t'morrow, after we move the bloody Muggle, 'm gonna be movin' up..."
"So where is the Dark Lord coming to, then? You told me it was up north, but is there any chance we could get to see him? You know how badly I've wanted to see him in person, I mean, it would be like a dream come true!" Diana exclaimed, fanning her face a bit as if to ward off tears at the mere thought of seeing Voldemort.
Lucas sipped his drink thoughtfully, again managing to spill on himself.

"Dunno," he mumbled. "Th' Dark Lord doesn't like bein'--bein' bothered..."
"Oh, I didn't mean meet, just see... I mean, from afar. You could do that, couldn't you, Lucas? I mean, we'd just get a glance, and then that'd be it... If there's anyone who could do it, it would be you..." Diana pushed, trying to wheedle the man along. "Just a look... I mean, how cool could that be?!" she exclaimed to Samantha, appearing to be bubbling over with excitement.
Even drunk, Lucas possessed enough mental capacity to recognize a potential threat to his promotion. He wasn't yet drunk enough to be dark, brooding, and cynical to the point where he realized what a promotion from the Dark Lord actually meant.

"Dunno," he slurred again. "Maybe. We're gonna be...y'know...busy. Movin' the bloody Muggle."
ootp_united

September 2008

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