Laws, Shaw's, and Lack of Security

So, perhaps she was insane. Sure, she'd been called the word, or one of it's synonyms, hundreds of times before. Some of those times to her face, others behind her back, and even more times in newspapers. But not once had Katrina-Carlotta ever considered that those words many be more accurate than not. Until now.

She was inside the British Ministry of Magic. Inside a government building simply filled to the brim with people whom would love to see her behind bars. The witch wasn't sure how many Aurors were on premises, but it was likely more that she'd be able to handle in a fight. Not that she didn't have backup plans incase things went south, but the thought was unnerving. Of course, she was under a glamour. The same glamor she'd thrown on once for Albus Potter's benefit, ironically enough. But right now she was here on business, and it didn't even involve killing someone.

Walking out of the elevator as if she was supposed to be there, because the appearance of confidence always made people question less, a small smile curled upon her lips. She was here for a man by the name of Jude Shaw. The man was the Undersecretary to the Minister, and the perfect example of a power-loving politician. Katrina-Carlotta hardly minded though, the man had darker tendencies and was power-hungry in accordance to her sources. With a little bit of smooth-talking, he'd make a fine addition to the Death Eaters. With a wicked grin to an empty hallway, the assassin knocked four times on the wizard's office door.

Jemma had just left to run another errand for him. Obviously, the errand was the same errand the poor woman was usually sent on. Part one was to typically deliver a bribe to someone. Part two was to deliver a threat to another person. And part three was to deliver flowers or chocolates to a woman Jude had either slept with, or was desperately trying to sleep with. He found that all three deliveries were usually met with the outcome that he considered to be best.

Unfortunately, this meant she was not here to turn away whoever it was that had knocked on his door. Jude was in the middle of VERY important, VERY official, VERY top-secret business. Namely, finishing off his 64-year-old Scotch, and throwing a game of darts across the room.

He let out a sigh. "If it's not a matter that improves my happiness, wealth, or state of living, then I'm out to lunch!" he called to the door. This was his invitation to either enter or get lost. Only the most confident of people would enter after such a hefty standard. He was hoping they would just move on so he could enjoy his drink with peace.

Katrina-Carlotta raised a brow at the words the wizard called through the door. Well, at the very least the man wasn't lacking in confidence. Not that she'd been expecting him to, but the observation was still valid. She would certainly have to keep an eye on him if he became one of her Death Eaters, his type was overly fond of attempting to climb the chain of power at any cost. Not that this man would be able to out-duel her, but politicians could be sneaky. It was a good thing that she could be too.

The woman pondered his words, if it's not a matter that improves my happiness, wealth, or state of living, then I'm out to lunch! It wasn't like she was actually considering turning back, but the dark witch dissected the words all the same. Could becoming a Death Eater improve his happiness? Likely. Could she improve his wealth? No, but his Death Eater connections could. Could her proposition improve his state of living? Well, that question was a bit more complicated. Amused that she fit this man's conditions, she knocked once more on the wood, before twisting the doorknob.

Stepping into the office, Katrina-Carlotta immediately began to survey the room. It rather fit the man, from what she knew of him. The woman had to work to keep her face emotionless as she noticed that the man was drinking scotch instead of working. Oh, could this Mr. Shaw fit the stereotype of corrupt government official any more? Sitting herself in the chair in front of Jude's desk, she looked up with glamoured features, and said, "Mr. Shaw, I have a proposition for you."

There was always that pregnant pause he liked to enjoy after he gave his visitors such a high standard they would have to be certain they could fulfill. He could practically see their conflicted expression as they weighed their chances, trying to decide whether or not it was actually worth the risk. He liked the quiet, where they sweated and pined before letting out the sigh that proved the deflation of their hopes as they dropped their shoulders, dropped their heads, and moved on.

Jude had a lot of time to think when he was refusing to do his job.

Only once before had that knock interrupted the silence, and it was a very tenacious kissogram who was more than welcome. So, he naturally perked with interest while simultaneously bristling in preparation for potential irritation. But the woman entered and he briefly thought he might have another kissogram on his hands.

He looked her over, leaning back as he was impressed by the figure the woman struck. He ran a hand over his hair and he smiled. She looked far too professional to be a kissogram. "You know - I was hoping a good-looking woman would walk into my office today with a proposition."

Oh, this one was witty. Good, not enough people had a decent sense of humor these days. And he was impressed, that was clear enough by his expression and body language. She could only hope he would be even more impressed once he realized whom she was, and exactly what she'd done. After all, it did take guts for a wanted woman to prance right into the Ministry of any country.

"Wrong type of proposition, Mr. Shaw," Katrina-Carlotta announced with a smirk. "Although..." the witch added slowly, drawing out the word as she surveyed the man features. He was handsome, powerful, amusing, and at the very least that would help to fuel that man's ego.

Drawing her wand, the witch created a ward with a sharp flick, before pointing the wood towards her own chin. Flicking her wand once more, dispelling the glamor on her face, the dark witch looked the Undersecretary straight in the eye and said, "now, about that proposition."

She was speaking with that double tone that meant she wanted him to believe she was tempted to do as he always wanted to do, but secretly had no interest. Honestly, this tone often suggested there were more feelings of the former secretly nestled in their head. He hoped so. She certainly looked tenacious, and he hoped that quality transferred over into the bedroom.

"You're too kind," he said, enjoying the fact that she humored him. She suddenly flicked her wand and Katrina-Carlotte du Hunt stood before him. He smirked. Naturally, he was not worried. He had had one of his little slaves create a spell that activated defensive mechanisms on the word 'Avada' so he could not be assassinated in his office.

But he had to say, his interest was piqued.

He leaned back as he surveyed her. By means of agreement, he said, "Drink?" He waved his wand and drinks from his personal bar appeared on the desk between them.

Katrina-Carlotta was pleased. Jude wasn't scared, but he was interested. The woman figured she had been right about him, but proof of her intelligence was something the dark witch would never grow tired of.

"I'd love one," the woman said smoothly, selecting a bottle of expensive wine from the selection in front of her. Lifting an upside-down glass with her left hand, the European deftly poured some of the sure-to-be-decadent liquid into her glass. Bringing it up to her nose to smell, the woman smiled before taking a small sip. Oh yes, she'd enjoy this.

Placing her glass gently back down on the man's desk, Katrina-Carlotta looked at the handsome male through dark lashes. "Would you like to guess why I'm here, Mr. Shaw? Shall we make a game of it? Or would you prefer if I got straight to the point?" the dark witch practically purred.

This was a trick Jude often employed when he was handling someone he either thought might be bluffing, seemed too good to be true, or he simply wanted to figure out a little more. And with such a weighty reputation as she held, Katrina-Carlotta was one of the few women to fit all three categories.

His interest was piqued and her class was confirmed as she chose an expensive wine in an older looking bottle. The bottle itself did not to the drink justice, but anyone who knew their wines could tell by the label that it was well worth the drink.

He eyed her playfully as she laid out his choices. "I'm not much for guessing games. And unless your game is anything like strip poker," he smirked a bit, "then it may be best to jump ahead to the part that is going to make me happiest."

"Strip poker," the woman echoed back, "wasn't what I had in mind, but an amusing game none the less." She didn't laugh, or smile, but the fact that she wanted to was obvious in her tone. Elegantly taking another sip from her glass, because damn this year of the alcohol was good, Katrina-Carlotta regarded the male with dark eyes. If the conversation went well, she may have to ask him for his supplier.

"Jumping ahead to the part that will make you happiest, as you so eloquently put it; the Death Eaters want you. You're powerful, intelligent, hold a place of importance in the Ministry, I'm sure you can figure out the rest. It might come as a bit of a surprise to you that I've joined with the Death Eaters myself, but through a series rather well-timed events, I find myself in a rather highly-ranked position among the group. So really, the better way to phrase things might be; I want you to be one of my Death Eaters," the woman announced. Leaning back in her seat, the dark witch watched carefully for Jude's reaction. Perhaps it was a bit pretentious of her to call the group her Death Eaters. But they were, and so the witch could care less about such minor technicalities.

Katrina-Carlotta had taken a bit of a risk, doing this. Waltzing into the Ministry, propositioning the Undersecretary of the Minister in his very own office. Hell, the Minister's office itself was only right down the hall. But every move had been done for a specific purpose, because if she could impress this man, he would be hers.

He listened, refilling his own glass of Scotch as he listened. Of course, his interest was piqued. He had been wondering about the Death Eaters a long while. He had all of the ideals. But the fact of the matter was... they did the dirty work. He had been clearing the way for them politically for years, but to actually be doing the work. Meh... Still, he could like the respect it garnered.

He leaned back in his chair, swirling the contents of his glass before slowly lifting it to his lips and drinking. He watched her carefully, his expression remaining in the comfortably smug, but unreadable expression. He knew how to negotiate with people. Even vigilante leaders.

He set the glass down carefully. "So..." he said. "I join and I'm one of the maggot cadets, running around and fetching coffee for the veterans? Or am I henchman number three? Where would I find myself in your little group?"