It's a new day, but it all feels old

Zara stood at her mirror, staring at her reflection. It was to bright outside, and yet she was awake, she had actually woken up during the day time to start her day, and she hated it. The sun was to bright and messed with her pale complexion, the day was to warm for her liking, she liked the nighttime coolness, even as the days got cooler, they were to hot for Zara, and normally she spent the day in bed, sleeping, so as not to disturb her usual nightly cycle, but today.. it must have been the rain that woke her up. It was drizzling outside, and everything just felt damp out in the country. Her house was literally situated under many trees, and hidden away from view, and the water that ran from the trees were very heavy and large drops, so it was a loud THUMP, THUMP on her roof constantly.

Zara ran her fingers through her hair and sighed heavily, wishing she had something to do now that she was awake, more then awake, she was totally wide awake. She knew that being awake during the day was dangerous, movement made it look like the house was in use, and anybody who made a wrong turn might mistake her house for one that someone lived in, despite any notices from the local government saying the house was going to be torn down (Zara had stolen a copy from a house in town that had them on the windows and put them on her own home to scare away muggles). Zara glanced out the window and sighed again, it was so rainy, and dreary, she liked it a lot, but the sun made it bright to, she couldn't sneak, couldn't practice, couldn't do anything until it got darker, until then.. she just kinda hung out, read a book in her front room, and listened to distant thunder.

It had become a bit of a habit of Perry's; getting himself into situations that required a clever escape, and a place to wait out the search party that usually followed. On many of the past occasions on which he'd found himself in such a predicament, however, Paris hadn't been so lucky as to find himself in this particularly gloomy corner of London. Before, he'd struggled to locate an abandoned home to break into and hide within. Today, on the other hand, such buildings were in abundance.

With the ghost of his previous laughter still hanging in the air, Paris’ swift fingers moved against the lock before him. He held his pick loosely in one hand as he worked, twisting and jiggling the tool in the keyhole as he attempted to force it open. There was a faint click, and he immediately drew his utensils away from the door and dropped them in his pocket, concealing them from the outside world. He simply could not bear the thought of being forced to part with the tools, and thus he would do all in his power to hide them from the aurors that were hot on his trail.

The door moved with ease against the gentle push of Paris’ shoulder, opening inwardly to the shadows that the building housed. Without hesitation, Paris slipped inside and snapped the door closed behind him. His excited smile remained, though no longer visible in the absence of light. “Trente minutes devrait être assez longue. Je vais attendre," Paris spoke softly to himself, and slid to the hardwood floors beneath him to rest his aching feet.

Someone was in her house. She heard the front door handle jiggle, and immediately Zara was on her feet, wand in hand, hiding behind the chair she had just been sitting in. Wand at the ready, she calmed her nerves and kept her breathing quiet as the door opened a crack, someone slid in, and the door closed again. She heard a soft voice, male, say something in a language she didn't know, and then there was a thump as he sat down on the floor in front of the door. What do you do in this kind of situation? You make your house look abandoned, so a man hides in the house and uses it as a safe house or something? What if he was some sort of creepy hobo. Zara wasn't in the mood to have to deal with a dead body today.

So, Zara just decided to get his attention the easy way. She stood up. "What are you doing in my home?" She asked loudly, wand held at her side, unsure if he was a wizard of a muggle. Though obviously he must have some sort of magical ability right? Muggles were usually turned away by a few well placed spells that made them forget why they were there, or made them remember they had left the stove on at home, she had gotten the idea from the Ministry of Magic, and the long driveway up to her house was a good place to have them strung along, not to mention around the proximity so that anyone trekking through the woods wouldn't be tempted to go into her clearing.

The disbelieving sigh that Paris had emitted prior to having been greeted by the owner of his hideout had said far more than words ever would have. Zara Ellis was no stranger to Paris, after all. Despite the fact that he had never met the woman in person, he was well aware of her status among the Death Eaters, and Paris had long since learned of the temper tantrums that the group threw in such situations. As it was, the arched bottoms of the man’s feet ached terribly within his sneakers, due to the game of tag that he had spent the entire morning taking part in. He was not certain he had the strength left in him to crawl to his feet once more, should the woman before him suddenly feel the urge to improve the strength of her Unforgivable Curses.

Despite his exhaustion however, Paris could do nothing to prevent the smile that had crawled slowly across his face. That expression, it was always sneaking up on him when he least expected its arrival. More specifically; when there was a possibility that he be turned inside-out due to such an expression of amusement. “Bonjour,” he greeted her in response to her inquiry, and lifted his left hand from his lap so to offer it to her politely.

Ah, there it was; the reason for his amusement. With such etiquette he introduced himself, even after having forced his way inside Zara’s home. It was most comical. “My name is Paris Ravindra Radborn. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Ms. Ellis. I hope I haven’t interrupted anything of importance.”

Zara sated at the man as he extended his hand towards her, and said hello in French. It.. was french was it not? She was pretty sure that's what that word meant anyway, she had never taken anything in language, but it was almost universal.. the phrase hello in any language. She stared at his hand, and didn't accept it, unsure of what to make of him. She watched his breathing, realizing he was tired, and obviously had been on the run for a while. When he said her name however, her wand came up and she pointed it at him.

"How do you know me? You are not a Death Eater... I don't.. think, are you?" She asked, her wand pointed at his chest, her heart pounding. Whoever this man was.. she didn't like it.. she didn't like the fact that he knew her at all. If someone knew her... it meant someone could find out what she did for a living, she liked to keep it on the down low what she did for money, and she'd rather it stay that way. She never stood out much in meetings, she didn't say much besides the occasional comment, and she kept herself low on the radar, getting this old rickety house in the middle of no where, keeping herself hidden as much as possible... the dead bodies found were always ruled as suicides, or accidental, nothing she could be linked too... a suicide note here... a hair dryer in the bathtub there.. she kept herself low.. so how did this man know her name?