Michael had always been a night owl, and Robert had always been an insomniac. They were both at Khaat's estate and both awake tonight, and not entirely by choice. Tonight, Robert was working relentlessly in the potions lab at Khaat's estate, and Michael was seeing to details about Robert's farm and about the organization in Paris, and other details that Robert couldn't focus on.
With the curse, Robert and Kate had taken to living at Khaat's massive estate because, flat out, Robert needed the help that family and friends could provide more freely at the massive compound. Michael's lifetime friend rarely slept anymore, and it showed. The fact was that Robert Lupin looked like hell. He still exercised daily to try to keep what he still had toned up, but it wasn't a cure all. He'd lost a massive amount of weight. He was very thin. There were dark circles under his eyes, hollows in his cheeks, a deathly gray pallor to his skin, and he looked like he was doomed to be exhausted for the rest of his mortal days. There was a certain haunted quality now about the man, one that Michael was getting to understand too well.
The curse kept Robert trapped within himself, unable to touch any energy worker, unable to speak, unable to control his emotions, unable to stop the violence when it came. He had lost much of his zest for life, and he had, for the most part, stopped eating or drinking or sleeping, except when Michael managed to coax him into it. Michael had become Robert's handler because there was no one else to do it.
Robert had been working on some sort of a potion for days--since Thaor's death on the Hogwarts ground. He was brewing something that Michael thought looked entirely disgusting. It smelled, vaguely, of black licorice, and it looked a lot like hot road tar on an August afternoon. Odd stuff, Michael thought.
Michael was working on some new techniques for teaching breaking and entering to a band of folks in Paris, and so he was working in the lab with Robert simply to have some human companionship.
"What the hell is that?" Michael finally asked Robert. Robert looked up, and picked up a handkerchief from the worktable. He dipped it in the black goo and withdrew it again. Michael didn't see the handkerchief anymore. What he did see was some sort of an opague black mist hanging off the end of the spoon. "Well, that didn't turn out very well, did it?" Michael scowled.
Robert gave him an 'Oh, really?' look and then proceeded to drape the handkerchief over his own face. The moment he did that, Robert's face disappeared from view behind the black mist.
"Oh, now, that's attractive," Michael said sarcastically. "What the hell good is that? Halloween isn't for another 8 months."
Robert went over to the closet, took out a hooded black cloak that brushed the ground and an old death eaters mask that he'd picked up decades before in the Second Wizarding War. To a young man, it had seemed a trophy, and Robert had forgotten he had it til now. He dipped the mask in the goo, put on the cloak, put on the mask and raised the hood.
"Jesus," Michael breathed in, "you look like the Grim Reaper. You're just going to scare the shit out of everybody. Including your friends. Why can't you just continue to use polyjuice like anyone else? Take that thing off. It's creepy as hell." Robert took the mask off and lowered the hood. "Look, I know you can't be seen like this but must you go about dressed as a dementor?"
Robert shrugged, hanging up the cloak again. It was a valid disguise if he needed to go out, and he wasn't afraid to use it. He suddenly turned sharply to Michael, feeling a surge of panic. Alarm. Something was horribly wrong.
"What?" Michael asked.
"Where's Khaat?" he signed to Michael.
"With Belby," Michael said. "They popped out to Sparks for a short bit. They'll be right back."
"No," Robert signed. "They won't be. Its gone wrong. Something's wrong."
Michael knew there was likely some validity to it. When Remus had passed, Khaat's deep grief for Remus had nearly killed her. Robert had used a life support spell for so long that it had, at some point, gone a bit sideways. Now, when she was in some lifethreatening danger, Robert knew. He just knew. He didn't know where she was or what the issue was. But he knew there was trouble.
"You want me to check it?" Michael asked. Robert nodded. Michael drew his wand and the portkey to Sparks and ported to London. He went in the kitchen door.
"Oh, God," Michael breathed softly.