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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...


Diana looked up as footsteps came. An unfamiliar face... She knew everyone who was coming in and out of these doors. This must be the one, if it was sent.

She stepped out for a moment. "Hello," she spoke calmly. "My name is Diana. Are you who I think you are?" Cryptic, but considering the surroundings, appropriate.
Diana returned the smile. "An envoy... Love those," she joked, pushing back her hood. "I am going to make sure we're not overheard for a few minutes," she said by way of explanation, not wanting the scare the woman off by whipping out her wand without some sort of explanation first. She slipped her hand into her pocket and cast a quick muting spell.

"I'm afraid I'll have to skip the niceties since we don't have much time. Usually it's best in situations like this to really know who you're going into it with first, but we don't have that luxury. I've been in here every night for about a month... It's not that bad, just loud and rowdy. Anyway, I want to make this as painless and safe as possible. The objective, obviously,is information-- how, well, this Death Eater is a real lush, hopefully we can ply things out for him. Now this is a membership only club...." she reached into her pocket again, pulling out an extra card, whispering a spell and fixing the moving image to a likeness a bit more like Samantha's, before handing it over. "I would also suggest obscuring your appearance by one way or another... a simple fudging spell so they forget would be easiest... Besides, most of them are so smashed they won't need much help in that department. Do you have any safety signals that you typically use in situations like this?" she asked. "Sorry, I know I'm throwing a lot at you... But, gotta have signals in case something starts to awry..."
"That's good," Diana said approvingly. "Well, if you don't have any, I'll add a few, if you don't mind... Resting head in hand with one finger up on the cheek means going one-on-one with a Death Eater... Resting with two fingers up means we need to team up in talking one up... Wiping a finger under the nose means 'quit it', playing with one's hair means we need ASAP... All casual signals, it will make things go smoother. If we exchange glances too much it looks suspicious... plus, you probably know these Death Eater types, their egos suffer if you're not fawning over them at least 70% of the time." She rolled her eyes with a small smile. "And yeah, perfect job with the fudging. I've developed a 'relationship' with these guys-- so I'll introduce you as my friend. They're wary of newcomers, but that'll take care of that. I probably don't have to tell you this, but don't drink... not just for the obvious reason of screwing with one's head, but they serve some nasty crap here... Some of the mixtures turn to poison if you're not careful. We'll be shoving the alcohol down their throats anyway... I think that's it for now, time to improvise... Ready?" she asked.
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.

September 2008

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