There was something incredibly bizarre about the whole affair panning out before Elijah. He hadn’t seen Jamie for months and yet not long ago, out of the blue he had Prim on his doorstep, cold and in need of a mug of warm milk which he duly supplied her. It was only once he had brought her inside into the substantial heat of the manor house that she handed him the letter that her mother had composed to him, explaining briefly, if not somewhat evasively, her situation and entrusting him with Prim until she felt herself well enough and able enough to once again take care of the girl.
Yet here was the child’s father and Elijah, having guessed correctly, was wondering how much information he was supposed to lend James, if at all, and whether it was his place to introduce the man to his daughter or not.
Elijah was only half listening to James as they wandered amongst the tables towards the bar. Granted, he should have been listening but his mind was wandering back to his office in the Ministry, wondering if he had been better off there, nursing a glass of Firewhisky as opposed to being offered a bottle of Butterbeer.
Wait, what?
Blinking back to attention, Elijah found himself stood before Jack and James, wondering when they’d become a pair in crime – or whatever else it was. Elijah took the bottle of Butterbeer regardless, feeling rather foolish because of it and took a swig for etiquette purposes, finding himself curious as to how in Merlin’s name Elves got drunk on the stuff – it had nothing in it. Well, it probably had something in it that got them off but not him. After spending the better part of his childhood drinking the stuff, Elijah had come almost to loathe it save for winter days when there was nothing else that could warm him through.
“Good Evening, Jaquellene.” Elijah greeted somewhat woodenly before looking back over to James. “This might sound a bit French but why didn’t you just Owl her?” Elijah quirked an eyebrow at James, seemingly forgetting to act appropriately at the mention of a child. It was scandalous news after all, but in typical Elijah fashion, prior knowledge allowed him to forget to act in a manner expected of him. “A daughter, so I heard. A friend of mine once said in response to such a revelation: ‘at least I know it all works.’ Congrats, mate. But I suppose congratulations are a bit belated. What are you after specifically?”