Three's Company

Winter had finally managed to bombard Thalia's immune system into a whimpering mess, leaving her with a stuffy, red nose and a voice that sounded more frog-like than human. She had sprung for an Apothecary purchased cold-cure at first but had been unimpressed with it's effectiveness and had created her own blend with a much higher potency. The black liquid had left a distinctive taste of licorice in her mouth that she had to cover with several peppermint breath mints but it worked wonders against her sickness and she felt well enough to leave the house for the first time in days. Thalia walked down the streets of London, jacket only just protecting against the cold. After her long stay indoors by the fire Thalia had almost tricked herself into thinking it was spring but as the light snow fell on her head she began to wish she had grabbed some mittens before leaving the house.

Thalia arrived at the phone booth and stepped in, grateful for the warmth that it provided. She rubbed her hands together before tapping in the code on the dial-pad and again while the machine spit out her name tag. She barely had time to read Thalia Goyle - Meeting on the golden badge before they were soaring downward, leaving the snowy streets high above her. As the elevator hit the main level of the Ministry, Thalia promised herself that she would just use the fireplace in Marie's to floo back home instead of experiencing nature for another long Underground ride to Diagon. She had only just escaped the confines of her cold and was already desperate to return to her room and warm fire.

Thalia made her way through the lobby, scurrying witches and wizards in robes passing her with their heads down as they worked their way through the day. She stood out in her muggle dress but barely noticed the double takes she received from several Ministry workers as she pushed her way into an already crowded lift. As the elevator rose it stopped ever few seconds to let more and more of the wizards off on their respective floors. By the time it reached Thalia's destination she had gained much more elbow room but was still pleased to be let out into the open space of the Minister's hallway. Thalia walked leisurely, the sound of her heavy boots muffled into the carpet under her feet. Compared to the rest of the Ministry, there were few doors on this floor and each was clearly labeled with it's occupants name and occupation.

This was the brunette's third or forth time visiting Marie at her new Ministry job and she had become familiar enough with the layout of the land to stop at the correct door without double checking the name plate beside it. Out of courtesy, Thalia knocked twice before letting herself in to the Undersecretary's without waiting for permission. Marie had been expecting her anyway.

"Morning." Thalia greeted with a lazy smile, dropping herself into a chair on the edge of the room. "You called?" Marie had owled her the night before with a request that she come and visit for a meeting today at this time without much of a reason given. Part of Thalia almost hoped this would be a social call and her friend simply wanted to take her out for the lunches that they always planned but never seemed to have time to actually do. However, he anonymity of Marie's note suggested the opposite and Thalia was prepared to discuss business - whether it be for the French Mafia or the British Ministry.

Thalia felt oddly comfortable slouched in one of the most powerful offices in England, enjoying the view of it's owner where she stood across the room. There was no doubt that Marie's beauty as a teenager had only increased with age and the older girl cheekily wondered if those curves had been designed with the specific purpose of taunting her. She sometimes wondered if it was entirely appropriate to think about her friend in the entirely inappropriate way she so often did, but then again their relationship had involved kisses far before any genuine affection. Thalia supposed that when a friendship started out as theirs had she couldn't feel guilty about the desire that her gaze so often betrayed.

Marie couldn't help the smile that swept across her face as her long time friend entered her office. "Thalia!" the witch exclaimed happily, back straightening. The two females had been good friends ever since their school years. The two hadn't always been friends, far from it, but they had eventually learned to see beyond their differences. And underneath those differences, existed two very similar cores.

"I did call," the witch admitted, accent strengthening as though the very sight of her friend was enough for her to slip back into French. It was, after all, the language they had used to converse in their first few years of knowing each other. No matter how good her English, French would always be Marie's first and favorite language.

"Sadly, this isn't a social call," Marie admitted with a slight sigh, "I'm irritatingly busy these days, helping run a government is a lot more work than I had anticipated." Logically the witch had known that lots of effort and hours would be involved, but the experience of living through it was far from a theoretical understanding. Marie had always been her own boss, in previous years. The closest thing she had ever had to a superior was the Professors at school. It was a little unsettling, having to take orders again after having not for almost twelve years. The woman couldn't deny that a large part of her adored her new job, despite having someone to report to.

In theory, Marie wasn't a particularly great or talented or powerful witch. In practice, however, she was exquisite. The reason for this was simple - strategy. The Frenchwitch was a strategist, through and through. She knew the best way to play off the strengths and weaknesses of people, of families, of... governments. That's all politics was, really, one giant and twisted game of strategy. It was fun.

No matter how enjoyable her new job, the undersecretary was determined not to let her other occupation suffer. She could adore her position in the British Ministry all she wanted, but everything she had accomplished under the pseudonym Le Papillion was her baby. She had watched as her network grew from nothing; she had nurtured it until it was strong. Marie never hesitated in taking care of the thing she had devoted so much to, watchful eyes always tracking anyone or thing who would dare cause it harm.  

"I have something to ask of you," the dark witch admitted, leaning forwards to rest her elbows on the desk before her, leaning her chin into her palms. Her friend had always been a beauty, there was just something about her that ensnared any who got close enough. Marie found no problem with the thought that she wouldn't be able to un-care about Thalia. If there was someone who she had to forever remain loyal and caring towards, she was glad that it was one of her two best friends.

"I need you to brew me a potion," Marie stated, knowing that their relationship had far exceeded the point where favors had to be asked for. "A poison, something that takes a while for the effects to kick in. Weeks or months, preferably." The woman paused, looking deep into Thalia's eyes with a teasing smile, "I'm sure you'll be able to figure out something."

Thalia couldn't help but grin as the other woman spoke. Despite her affinity for solitude, she was always surprised at how.. pleasant it could be when socializing with friends. Marie had always been the only one to get Thalia comfortable enough for pleasant conversation and for that she had earned a special place in her heart. She was amused by the matter-of-fact way her friend spoke, as if running a country was a problem that most people had to deal with on a daily basis.

But, quite selfishly, Thalia had always believed that the most interesting work was her own, no matter the situation. As soon as Marie began to discuss what she needed done the older girl's ears instantly perked up. As she explained the project Thalia ran through possibilities in her mind, testing reactions and effects without actually having to brew them. With a light shrug she replied "Should be fine." Several ideas were already filtering around her brain and she once again felt the urge to retreat to her flat and get to work. There were old poisons that needed updating and bland recipes to be combined for more dramatic results.

Thalia couldn't help but vaguely wonder about the reason for this job. It wasn't that she had any ethical problem with the knowledge that she was assisting in an assassination - no, some of the Goyle girl's best paying business was with murderers. While she never asked her clients what exactly they needed her services for, Marie was different and Thalia couldn't quite hold her tongue.

"I could probably get something together in a week or two, maybe a little more depending on when my order of Snails Eyes comes in. I'm assuming we're going for subtlety?" she asked lightly, picking at the fabric of the chair absentmindedly as she talked. "If I can get a fortnight I can garentee no mortician will suspect a thing."

Marie inclined her head, smiling slightly with the information her friend had provided. "I'm glad to head it," the witch admitted softly. Thalia was the best brewer she knew, and if the woman before her could do it, none of her other people would. Then she'd have to pull in someone she didn't know, an outside source, and Marie had always hated having to do that.

"Definitely going for subtlety," the dark witch continued, "and a fortnight is perfect. The person administering the potion will need some time to plan, after all." Marie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, mouth twisting into a wicked smirk that looked slightly out of place on the well-manicured Undersecretary. The woman smirked like that all the time, just not with this face, and if she were to look in a mirror the Frenchwoman probably would have laughed at the absurdity of it all. She had long ago adjusted to have two identities, two appearances, but no matter how well-adjusted one was, some things simply never felt completely normal.

Katrina-Carlotta had arrived outside Marie's office with the intention of just walking in like she always did. When it came to the two of them, knocking had become a pointless gesture that had long ago been forgotten. Hand on the door handle, the dark witch paused upon hearing Marie's voice from within. She seemed to be talking about the potion Katrina-Carlotta would be using to assassinate a French politician, meaning that the other person in the room would have to be the brewer.

"I am offended Marie, offended," Katrina-Carlotta announced a little louder than strictly necessary, throwing the door to the office open and stepping through it like she did this every day. "You know very well that it would take me a day, at most, to plan and assure my success," the European drawled. She rarely acted like this around Marie, unless she was being sarcastic, but Marie wasn't alone and Katrina-Carlotta had a reputation to maintain. Just because she spent a large chunk of her time looking after schoolchildren these days, did not mean she was going soft. No matter what her old mercenary acquaintances were saying.

Turing to look at Marie's guest, Katrina-Carlotta was suddenly rather glad of how skilled she was with keeping emotions from showing on her face. The witch before her was gorgeous, to put it lightly, and the European absently wondered where Marie had found her. Leaning back against the door casually, location carefully chosen for Katrina-Carlotta had always been fond of power-plays, Marie discretely rolled her eyes.

"Of course Katrina-Carlotta," Marie said in a pacifying tone, and the assassin narrowed her eyes at the Frenchwitch for a split second before turning back toward the beautiful stranger.

"So, brewer, you must be pretty good if Marie trusts you with something this big," she commented seemingly off-handedly, knowing that the way the witch responded would tell her everything Katrina-Carlotta needed to know.

The door was swung open and Thalia's eyes lazily crossed the room to investigate. A slow smirk appeared on her face as she admired the woman's dramatics as she entered the room. Thalia consciously refused to improve her slouching posture just for the benefit of the new arrival and she openly stared as the other woman spoke. This woman, Katrina-Carlotta, was clearly the not-so-secret client that Thalia had been called in for.

Her statement was half accusation, half question and Thalia's smirk only deepened. Her hands left her lap and spread out past the arms of the chair, as if opening up an invitation. "The best." she stated, her tone making it clear that the self-proclaimed title was in no way open for discussion. It was simply a fact.

It wasn't intended as a challenge but Thalia couldn't help and size up the new arrival from where she sat. Katrina-Carlotta reminded her of Marie in some ways - the same dark hair and caramel skintone. Thalia vaguely wondered if the two were very well acquainted. She was suddenly interested as to why it was the Frenchwoman who had brought the job to her instead of the assassin herself, and therefore was naturally interested in who the planned target was. Someone had clearly managed to make some enemies.

Thalia knew this was the time where she was supposed to extend her hand to shake and introduce herself to the stranger but those formalities were for the formal and she didn't feel quite comfortable with beckoning such a witch closer. After all, she was here to be a killer.