A present, m'dear

Sofie had arrived at the gates of d'Eath manor and stepped just inside of them, carefully pressing the dark mark on her arm to summon Aaron. She had a little present for him- he had said something about wanting to capture Nemo Omara himself, but she might have already had a little plan underway. So, she had decided to turn it into an early Christmas present for her lord.

She stepped a little further into the garden, anticipating the arrival of Aaron and, shortly thereafter, Ne'Os with Sofie's gift to Aaron. Anytime now- she worried that he may be upset for her slight disobedience, but she knew there was some trust between them. She hoped to prove that even more that night.

Before Aaron arrived, Nemo was delivered to her, still unconscious. She took him into the manor, informing one of the house elves to lead Aaron to her. She levitated the unconscious man into the dungeons and cleared out a cell for him, carefully locking him inside. She searched his person and took away anything she thought might cause some trouble, though she wasn't worried. He didn't even have a wand.

She locked the door and patiently awaited Aaron. Once Aaron approved, she would have him call the rest.

Aaron flinched sideways when the house elf appeared in front of him. He smiled at his own fear, the sudden pop always shocked him, but then he turned his attention to the elf. So Sophie had brought him a gift, such a sweet girl. She was so eager to please him and Aaron was eager to make her believe he enjoyed what she did. In a way, he did, he admired her tenacity.

Aaron casually followed the elf down into the dungeons and tried to think of what Sophie would be bringing him. Maybe it was information on the Minister like he had asked, or she had captured an auror of some kind. He did not have to wonder long, though, as when he opened the door he spotted right away who she had brought. A mixture of emotions flooded through him when he saw Nemo Omara. He stopped and then looked at Sophie.

"You brought the Head of the Department of Law Enforcement into our "secret" hideout?" He asked calmly with a tinge of confused anger in his voice. "Can't say I would have done the same," he shook his head and he made his way over to the man and he used his foot to prod his side. "His wand, do you have it?" He stood up and he looked at Sophie, praying that she had at least snagged his wand. Thinking quickly, he threw his hood over his head to hide his face in case Nemo woke up. He did not want his face to be seen.

Insistent fingers and unforgiving stone prodded the unconscious man, drawing forth his liquor-deluded focus if only for a brief second; a moment during which he released a stuttering cough which threatened to act the catalyst to his inevitable, future vomiting spell. But his head proved to be too heavy a burden to bear and his vision too searing to endure, thus he remained, lying flat beneath the boot of the unidentified male who loomed beside Nemo's limp figure. "Savior..." He pleaded as he heaved violently in the midst of his cell. Delusional and unaware of the words that left his sour lips, Nemo called again for someone to come to his aid, "Sparky..." Softly he spoke, before succumbing at last to his nausea.

Aaron entered and Sofie turned, patiently lacing her fingers in front of her, looking elegant and innocent- completely incapable of kidnapping and threatening a high official of the wizarding government. This was how she preferred it. If she were ever to be caught, she would be excused the moment she took the stand.

She saw something she had hoped to never see in Aaron. Disappointment. Disapproval. Her heart seized suddenly and her eyelids fluttered, as she tried to regather her bearings. "His eyes were covered and he was unconscious during transport. He is completely unaware of his location."

He spoke again and Sofie said, "He had lost his wand before we found him. We searched him, and his things are in the next cell." Mostly there were cigarettes and pill bottles. "There was no trouble, no witnesses, no injuries."

((Red, wife, feel free to add anything to his possessions pleeeease))

Aaron jumped backwards when Nemo threw up on the floor. A bit of the vomit found its way onto Aaron's shoes and a look of disgust and anger played across his eyes. He looked up at Sophie, frustration obvious in him, and he let out a sigh. He reared back with his foot and he launched it directly into the man's stomach. He let his anger flow through him and exit with the kick to the stomach. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then he opened them again, calmness starting to return.

"In the future," Aaron said softly, walking over to Sophie and putting his hand on her shoulder, he wanted her to know he was serious. "Do not bring people who could potentially destroy us to the place where we gather in one big room, all at the same time, OK?" He forced a smile and then he returned his attentions to Nemo.

He bent his knees and he brought himself lower to the ground. Aaron ran his hand quickly over the man's pockets, just for safe measure, and made sure Sophie had not missed anything. "The anti hero himself, Nemo Omara. Pity we have to meet under such circumstances, but I am sure you can understand my predicament. I want to remain unknown to the general public, you want to find out who I am, it is a never ending struggle." He knew Nemo would not hear anything he was saying, which was one of the reasons he even opened his mouth.

He stood up and he turned to face Sophie. "Wake him up, but make sure he feels.... welcome." Aaron walked past her and he turned his back on the scene. If Sophie knew him at all, she knew he would want her to put him in a little more pain. It was more so he had time to think of what to do next, but waking him up was the number one priority at this point.

The vicious blow that had been delivered to Nemo's side was one that he could never truly have anticipated, due to his return to a comatose state after whispering aloud his final plea for his companions. Therefore, the force of the shoe-clad foot which drove into the flesh of his gut rolled him upon his side. There he laid, atop his limbs, contorted with the appearance of a being whom had long since met his demise. But it was not by the slick edges of his Portkey of a Zippo lighter through the pocket in his worn, and presently dirt-dusted denims that he was greeted into this new position, as it surely would have if the item had been left on Nemo's person.

His only probable means of escape had been whisked away from him by a pair of dainty, manicured hands and tossed amongst the contents of his pocket, which had consisted of a prescription bottle, several rolled joints, and a single letter written in his impatient handwriting; a suicide note, the only one of which he had ever written. And much like the woman to whom the Portkey had been enchanted to carry him, the lighter had been moved out of his feeble reach.

Jack was out of reach.
Matt was out of reach.

Nemo drew his arms inward to coil them around his midsection and groaned.

Aaron hit the pitiful man on the ground as punishment for defiling his shoes with his vomit. Sofie waved her wand, cleaning away the mess with a look of displeasure. Vomit- one thing she had never managed to handle well. Give her a full diaper, or a sickly man. Vomit was not something she dealt with graciously.

She felt Aaron's hand fall upon her shoulder and she turned, looking up at him, her eyes wide and her mind fully open to whatever he had to say. He was disappointed. He had lost some faith in her. She maintained her composure, but there may have been a flicker of her sadness and disappointment in herself as she swallowed, nodding her head. When he moved away from her, she folded her hands in front of her, dropping her head and closing her eyes.

It'll be okay, SOlnyshko, little sun. It'll be okay.

The words of her father flared the sun and she raised her head, watching the interaction coldly, without compassion. Aaron left her and she waited a moment. She had failed Aaron. This man had helped with that.

She smiled. "Would you like some tea?" She immediately conjured a kettle, before opening her bag and sifting through some of the... herbs that she didn't usually use. She dumped a few leaves of the herb into the kettle and tapped it. It screamed and she conjured a teacup. She carefully poured a cup and placed it before Nemo. The smell was overpowering. Even knowing what it would do, she felt the overwhelming desire to drink it. However, she left the cell, closing and locking it, before conjuring a chair and sitting outside. She made herself a plan tea for herself and sipped, content to watch the show.

((The herb added makes the drinker intensely thirsty, the more they drink))

The drumming - "Would you like some tea?" . Nemo writhed to his knees, sliding sweaty palms through what had been the contents of his stomach across the soiled floor. The drumming - Nemo's spine arched as he struggled to sit, swaying between dream-state and reality like a wavering ghost. Tea. The drumming - a tea kettle screamed and the memory of a small boy beaten emerged from the alcohol that pooled within him.

“Please! I’m sorry! I didn’t call – It didn’t work!”

Nemo's feeler-fingertips met delicate glass, which tinkled - drum - as he took hold and dragged it atop rolling rock-dust to sit beneath his lips. His hands trembled as he lifted the cup to his lax lips, sloshing its contents over its gold-trimmed rim as the drumming, it rocked him. Loudly, his heart beat against the walls of his skull and traveled along the notches of his spine, rippling outward throughout his fingers.

With a jerk, he spilled the tea across his bitter tongue and roughly, he swallowed. But to the march of his restless heart his mind drummed on. And this beverage, which he found himself seemingly incapable of turning his mind from, was not one which relieved a man of his thirst. He shook past his lips, parting ever wider more of the tea, but his throat was lit like a fire. "Please," Nemo begged, extending a quaking hand towards the bars that enclosed him in his cell. "More, please." His voice was hoarse - and the drumming, it was unceasing.

Sofie remained unmoved on her seat, carefully sipping from her own cup as she watched the broken man fumble for his cup. bringing it to his lips and sloppily accepting the contents of the porcelain teacup. She could hear him drinking and she knew which effects would be taking place now. The thirst, settling into his throat, burning it, turning his air into ash. She spotted a piece of lint on her sweater and she carefully plucked it off.

"Please. More, please."

She glanced up. "Of course, dear. We wouldn't deprive you of basic drink. Just make sure you say continue to use your 'please' and 'thank you's. It's polite." She smiled and waved her wand. The kettle reappeared in his cell and poured him some more of the drink.

The thirst was unbearably insistent. It was a greedy beast of a flame that lapped at every fleshy patch of Nemo's throat, branding and burning and blackening his inner workings as it crawled hastily onward. The kettle emitted a second, soul-piercing wail and Nemo scrambled madly for the cup before it had been replenished.

Itching - why were the tunnels of his chest itching so?
Overwhelming him. Eating him alive, the need to drink was.

" It's polite."

Nemo balked and his upper lip surged upward in an instinctual snarl; an expression which had rarely cast such a shadow across his ordinarily giddy face. The tea that had pooled across his tongue and within the crevices between teeth and gums had grown stagnant as he’d paused, before he pulled himself nearer to his audience by means of his trembling grip around the iron bars. Nemo slotted his face between the narrow space - and heaved the tea, spitting it from his lips to rain down upon the posh Death Eater before him.

"Please and f-ck you," He replied with the smallest of grins.