Before the Storm (Malfoy Manor)

With a light rap of his crumbled fist against the entrance of Malfoy Manor, Paris alerted the Death Eaters of his presence. It hadn’t taken long for the dealer to learn of the battle that was taking place at Hogwarts at that very moment, and he had immediately seen the event as an opportunity to offer his survives to the dark wizards - whom he had grown rather fond of; those Death Eaters, they certainly knew how to have a good time. Though, in all honesty, he felt that he would never be able to commit himself to one faction; it was far too entertaining, watching the moves of each side - and as he dealt weapons to both the Ministry and the Death Eaters, he found that he gathered quite a staggering amount of information from each...

With the shadow of a grin visible upon his face, Paris Ravindra Radborn eyed the large double doors that stood between himself and the manor within. The strap of the rucksack that he had thrown around his left shoulder had begun to dig into his flesh, but his heart continued to flutter in the same excited manor that it always did before he faced a potential group of clients.

The smell of war was in the air - and despite Perry's feeling of indifference towards the battle, he found that he was still susceptible to the adrenaline that one felt when preparing to fight.

Caelani was sure she didn't know what manner of idiot turned up to Malfoy Manor unannounced, but she was glad she wasn't in their shoes.

"Crucio."

She cast the spell idly before the door was even half open, but didn't let it last long. Just a taste.

"Who are you?"

Paris’ assumption that the Death Eaters had gotten over their trust issues had been a mistake on his part; perhaps if he would have announced his presence in a more efficient way than knocking on the front door, he could have saved himself the excruciating pain of the unforgivable curse that was sent his way.

It seemed that both Death Eaters and Aurors alike were hell-bent on reminding Paris of the occupational hazards that came along with double-dealing.

“S'il vous plaît!” the man howled before falling to his knees before the very women who had spoken that cruel incantation aloud. Paris crumbled beneath the bag that he had filled with his most recent inventions, no longer capable of bearing the weight on his back.

Just as abruptly as the curse had met with his body, however, the pain ceased, leaving behind a prickling sensation just beneath Paris’ skin.

“Honey, I’m home,” he spoke in a joking manner, despite the fact that his breathing had become rough as his chest continued to rise and fall rapidly. A thick mixture of blood and saliva had formed within Paris’ mouth upon being assaulted, and so, being as polite as possible in such a situation, he leaned to his left and spat the substance from his lips. That was the way the Death Eaters operated; before you even made it through the door, they made certain that you had lost every ounce of your dignity.

“Paris Ravindra Radborn,” the man whispered his name - so to make certain that she would not instinctively harm him once more - and looked upward to identify the women who'd 'shot' him. "Wizarding weapons Inventor and 'locksmith'.

"I see you have perfected your 'hex first, ask questions later' method."

Caelani waited patiently for the man to recover himself and explain why he was here. A weapons dealer and locksmith. Well, it was new, anyway.

"Any Smith and Wessons in there?" she asked.

Despite himself, Paris laughed; the action pained his body - which was still recovering from the blow that it had taken. The man evidently was not exposed to the Unforgivables as often as it was necessary for one to build up a tolerance for them; it was only during the evenings when he paid Malfoy Manor a visit when he was tortured in such a way. The Ministry of Magic had the decency to offer Paris a seat during his stay, whereas when he decided to pay the ‘bad guys’ a visit, it would have been foolish for him to expect anything short of suffering. This did, however, make things more interesting...

Perry constantly caught himself weighing the pros and cons of each client, as though he had plans of cutting one out of the picture, despite the fact that he’d remained neutral all of his life.

“The last Death Eater who answered the door asked me if I was a door-to-door salesman,” he recalled with a smirk as he straightened his spine once more – though the fingers that he had wrapped around the strap of his rucksack continued to tremble. He simply could not seem to rid himself of that feeling; it was as though he had been electrocuted.

After a moment’s pause to organize his thoughts - which had been shaken when he’d collapsed on the doorstep – Paris met eyes with the women before him, and displayed the tips of his teeth in a polite fashion.

Perry had pulled on his ‘business’ mask.

“I have a proposition that I feel may interest your friends,” the man stated simply, nodding in the direction of the cracked door before him upon mentioning the other Death Eaters.

Caelani smiled. This was... refreshing? Interesting, at least. It had been a long time since anyone talked to her like that.

"You'll never find out if I flay you alive here on the doorstep," she told him. "Guns. Yes or no?"

“You people are always so kind to me,” Paris replied sarcastically, though the tone that he used during the delivery of this sarcasm was rather unorthodox; he sounded far too lighthearted.

Paris paused for a moment to adjust the pack that hung from his shoulder; perhaps it was time that he invested in a more efficient way to carry his inventions. There was, however, always the method of levitation – which was a solution that would not require any of Paris’ money.

“Yes, I have them – but they aren’t the ones that you’re used to. As I mentioned earlier, these aren’t exactly muggle weapons,” he continued as he pulled the bag from his shoulder and gently sat it at his feet.

“I wouldn’t imagine a Death Eater would be so interested in muggle devices, but I suppose one killing weapon is just as useful as another when at war.” Paris was determined to make it clear that he was aware of the battle that was taking place at Hogwarts. Odds were that if Paris began to beat around the bush about it, it would only irritate her, and she didn’t seem as though she needed much of a reason to vaporize him.

Paris dug his wand from a pocket within his clothing and held it out at arm's length - but he stopped before turning it towards his rucksack in order to make certain that the women had seen it. It was not wise for someone to hastily draw their wand near a Death Eater; they had impeccable aim, and most of them were trained to kill on sight – something which Malfoy Manor’s door-women had reminded Paris of.

"Wingardium leviosa," he ordered his belongings - which sprang at the opportunity to defy the laws of gravity. Poor Newton. If only he’d known about wizardry.

"Why yes - thank you - I would love to come in!" Paris stated jokingly.

Caelani rolled her eyes. She didn't have time to deal with idiots.

"You are not getting inside," she informed him. "You are either giving me weapons and leaving, or giving me weapons and dying. Those are your only options, so hurry up and choose."

A bump in the road, Paris reminded himself; the women’s determination to make his job more difficult was nothing more than something that he would have work his way around. Despite this positive outlook, however, Paris found himself considering the possibility of having to abandon the job in order to avoid a sticky situation. Paris lived for the evenings when the opportunity to strike an offer with someone important arose – but contrary to popular belief, he was not a suicidal man.

“May I ask you a simple question then, before I decide between those two, lovely choices that you have given me?” Paris asked with a smile; he was well aware of the fact that asking if he had permission to ask another question was a counterproductive.

“What threat would I be to your clan if you were to allow me inside? Yes, I am carrying a bag of weapons, which I could dip into at any time - and within three seconds of walking through the door I could have you staring down the barrel of a gun – but I am still outnumbered. Are you truly convinced that I ” – Paris pointed to his face and flicked an eyebrow upward – “could get away with something during my visit? Now, when Voldie was around, a Death Eater would have been killed on the spot for having so little faith in the rest of the gang. Well, maybe; the Death Eaters of that age weren’t really open to conversation. I only ever spoke with four, but that was the impression I got.”

“Oh…” Paris added abruptly, as though he had come to a shocking realization. “You know, you should really put a ‘do not disturb’ sign around the doorknob when you people are busy. It has been so long since I was last here – I completely forgot about those wild nights!”

Paris paused; laughter had begun to creep up his throat.

“You should have said something! I didn’t mean to... interrupt.”

Paris simply could not resist; after being ordered about in such a way, he found it nearly impossible to turn down such a tempting opportunity to mock the very women who had done the ordering.

“You party people, you. Don’t mind me; I will come back at a better time,” Paris continued with a backwards wave in her direction. He was prepared to walk away if she did not make a move to stop him. Though, perhaps he'd overstepped his boundaries.

Just a bit, Paris thought to himself with a grimace.

"No, you may not," Caelani spoke over the top of his next question.

"Crucio," sometimes people just never learned.

She shut the door in his face, leaving him speculating to thin air. Honestly, did people really think the Death Eaters had nothing better to do than chat all day? She would speak to Draco about tightening the house's security system if he wished his family to remain safe.