Non-existent answers

"Yes, you are." He agreed with her his eyes flickering.

Bastien wanted to see her reaction, and also it was fun mocking her and not knowing how will she react. Sebastien always thought he excellently reads other people, their movements, reading between the lines, guessing their thoughts. It was kind of game for him, when he was bored he liked mocking other people, like poking a snake until she bits you. And no one has never bite him before. Actually it has. Literally. But Beth was completely unreadable, he couldn't guessed what she'll do or say next. And that's what made his game even more interesting than before.

He watched her sitting and unbuttoning her coat. She seemed calm now. Sebastien was sure he would already cracked like popcorn if he's on her place. He was a little impressed, he was never a person with long temper, maybe it was his greatest weakness. And his being an ass, maybe selfishness too. Well the list is infinite and it was too early to go through it now. Later will be too late, and so on and so on. To define means to limit, and he liked being free.

"Hogwarts." He explained, maybe he could add lack of eloquence on list too. Sebastien couldn't help himself, he chuckled. "I always wondered why they never declared me with title of Miss sympathy, thanks for clearing that out."

The ghost of a terse look passed across the plump lips of the pale woman but she elected not to reply, preferring instead to keep her peace. She settled herself, instead, in her chair and fixed Sebastien with a steady half-glare that she was sure she didn’t entirely mean. She did almost mean it, though, so for the sake of her pride she kept it on her face, her scarlet lips plucked into a pout.

“Or Miss Sarcastic,” Elizabeth returned without skipping a beat, sniffing derisively at him.

Then gradually, Beth remembered her better manners and she lost the strained look on her face, adopting an evener expression – a congenial one, even.

“So,” she hedged after a while. “What’ve you been doing since Hogwarts, then?”

It was a generic, bog-standard question and she almost regretted asking it but there it was – ‘what were your exam results, then’ coming alone behind it, although she managed to stop herself from asking that one. No, after asking that Beth averted her eyes from the intense stare of the man across from her, finding a strange heat beginning to form in her cheeks.

"Me? Sarcastic?" He used his best look of soaked puppet and discarded her statement as it's nothing."Never." Sebastien was delighted with Beth's reply. He rarely got them, he thought people always wondered how someone can be so arse, after at least five minutes speaking with him, so they never remembered to reply on his provocations. That make this game boring, and now he was sure he could play as long as he want becase she looked like someone who won't give up easily. Neither will Sebastien.

Really? We're going to talk about our professions? It would be a very short conversation then since Bastien did a lot of things, but he changed his job when he get bored, or when his brother found out where his workspace is. Due to changings he never became an expert in something nor he wanted to. Sebastien wondered what other questions the woman opposite of him had in her head. Favourite movies? It was the most irritable question, not because he didn't watched them, he was and he still do that, sometimes. He was raised in family where his father was muggle so he was familiar with muggle technology. He hated that question because he considered it more intimate than most of the others and he definitely won't open his soul to someone he accidentally seen in the library and they never exchange not a single word before. Of course, if he actually has a soul. Favourite books? They were in the library after all. Name of the pet? Not so likely.

"Oh, I am still in Hogwarts." Bastien replied after a brick pause. He didn't explained that sentence any minutely.

Underneath the pads of her fingers, the table top felt chipped and rough, as though threatening to cut into her skin. Across from Sebastien, Elizabeth Murdoch weighted their conversation suspiciously, wondering why he didn’t move to elaborate on any point he made. She had noticed he was far more interested and, as a result, more verbal when being provocative. She disliked it, primarily, but knew that everyone had their idiosyncrasies that couldn’t be helped. That said, she didn’t remember him – not that she remembered him anyway – being so brusque at Hogwarts.

“It doesn’t suit you,” Beth told him glibly, lifting her hands off of the table and setting them gently in her lap. She smirked at him, arching an eyebrow in a mocking show of challenge. Then she averted her gaze and focused instead on the librarian who sidled by holding an armful of books – more floating on behind her. Once the woman shuffled away, Beth returned her gaze to Sebastien and arched an eyebrow at him in half-challenge.

“That tells me so much,” she spat back, unimpressed with his unnecessary imposition of mystery on the conversation. She wasn’t so easily wooed by it as she assumed other women must’ve been. In fact, it just grated on her nerves and she truly found it insulting more than anything else. “I need to go anyway,” she announced, electing to get up again, deciding that continuing on with the conversation was going to be about as exciting as watching paint dry.

In fact, the paint would probably be more interesting.

Sebastien turned his gaze away from Beth and looked at bunch of books on a table to remind himself why he came here after all. He needed to find a cure before his brother suspects that something is wrong and before the expiration of the time period that Hayley imposed to him to tell his brother. Otherwise she'll do it.
So far his research gave no result. He went through almost all libraries in Great Britain and read all the books about lycanthropy they had. He even applied and got a job as Hogwarts' librarian in order to find a cure somewhere on its shelves. Although Sebastien made all that he was still in dead spot.

Maybe he would stop acting like idiot so he could seek some help, he decided he'll do so, anyway it was harder to him to pretend after he came back. Bastien rolled up his sleeves revealing a web of tiny scars but he didn't care, if she doesn't remember him than she can't guess where and when he got them. And it was really hot over here.
"Ouch. You hurt my feelings." He replied without usual satisfaction.

He ignored her last sentence. Even seeing of books beneath him tired him. He wished that the old days when he could came in the library without any cause and read as much as he wants, could come back. Bastien was already sick of all this and just wanted to find a cure so this can be over because he doubted he could move on with his life otherwise. He lifted the book he read earlier after she announced she need to go. "It was nice to see you again, Elizabeth."
Bastien glanced at her then focusing on his book.


(OOC. Is she working there? Or basically, will she freaked out if he asks her for help to find appropriate books about lycanthropy?)

The announcement didn’t work in Beth’s favour, as it turned out. Her eyes narrowed at Sebastien not for the first time since they’d run into each other and as she rose from the chair, painstakingly lingering her fingers over every button of her coat. The Ministry was calling, of course, and she was running out of reasons to linger in Hogsmeade for as long as she had done already. She needed to be in Knockturn Alley by nightfall, glittered up and ready to dance for those whom she was looking to exploit for answers. It had been months, though. She was beginning to wonder whether anything would come of it. Most likely not.

She dropped her hands into her pockets and looked at Sebastien carefully, her expression softening as he returned his gaze to the book in front of him. Beth wanted to snap at him for daring to call her by her full forename. She hated ‘Elizabeth.’ It made her feel stuffy – not to mention old. It melded neatly with the other complaints she had about Sebastien, making a list that covered two sides of parchment. The fact that he was so nonchalant about her going, though, made Beth want to stay and she thought twice about it. She had work, though.

“You too,” she muttered before beginning to push off towards the exit.

(OOC: No, she doesn't! And yes she would be. )

Sebastien waited for her to leave before he irritably dismissed the book to the other end of the table. It was another book with meaningless advices. What idiot would drink nettle tea twice a day so his fur would be more shiny while he is a werewolf? Pointless. Like they cared how they fur looked like while running on all four. Like they could thought like when they're human. Bastien doubted that author of the book has ever seen alive werewolf. If he is he wouldn't write nonsense like this one. Of course, providing that he survived the encounter.

He went with his arms through his hair pulling it. As pain will give more sense to all of this. If he sees just one more book that is stupid like the one before it, he would flip out. Giving up now seemed more and more tempting, in fact it was so tempting he was ready to leave all this and never come or even look back. Simultaneously, it was the main reason he couldn't do that. First, Christian's gonna kill him because he left. Second, Christian's gonna kill him because he hasn't told him. Third, Christian's gonna kill him because he left before he met Barbara. And so on, but it all came down to his death caused by Christian. And he just did not found sounding tempting that end, so he needs to stay.

He suddenly glanced up as idea came in his mind. Elizabeth worked here, at least he thought so since she searched something on the shelf earlier. Maybe she could help him. Of course, he needs to apologize for what he said earlier. Apologizing. He hasn't done it for so long he almost forget how to say it aloud. Bastien hated apologizing, so he often found his way to avoid that, and now that's the first step to success. Wonderful.
Before he could think he stood up and started walking behind Elizabeth. He reach her when she was by the door. Sebastien leaned back on the door frame looking at her. "I am.." He cleared his throat, it wasn't easy at all. "I am sorry. It's a bad day." More like 3 bad months, precisely. He gazed away unable to look at her, but looking at her shoes. "Would you mind helping me since you work here and I really don't know where to find more books about lycanthropy, please?"

It wasn’t long before her willowy frame weaved out into the street, having found a path through the shelves and past the front desk, she was once again on the porch in the brisk autumnal air that was billowing gently down the street. Her hair lifted gently from her shoulders, stray locks whispering about her pale cheeks pricked rosy with the cold and Beth took her hand from her pocket to bat it back, the sound that pitched against her ear stalling her hand and her feet that had expressed intention to her legs of wanting to move off to the nearest apparition point. However, the voice that she had contended with, deemed rude and grown annoyed with, found her once more and she turned to stare at her tormenter angrily.

Her expression softened at the words that ejected from between his lips, bouncing off of his tongue and smacking her crassly in the face with what she sensed was some insincerity. A part of Beth rationalised that, being annoyed anyway, she had probably made it all up. Instead, she decided that he was being truthful and she opened up her body language a little more, dropping her shoulders and taking her other hand out of her pocket, in order to become a little bit less brusque and more accessible. His accompanying request made Beth’s eyebrows shoot to her forehead and she wondered to herself whether she had a face that could fit seamlessly into any role. She glanced down at herself briefly and decided she didn’t look dowdy enough to be a librarian.

She had to tell him.

“I don’t work here,” she replied evenly. “All the same,” she gradually found her words. “I know of a few in here. If I am honest, though, the Department of Mysteries is your best option if you want anything helpful and concrete.”

I would know, she thought grimly to herself. She stepped back up, laying a hand briefly on his chest to push at him, nudging him away from the doorway and she smirked as she passed, sidling back into the library, She headed down towards the darker parts of the place – the equivalent of the restricted section at Hogwarts – and finally came to a few dusty old tomes that were chained to the shelves. She pulled at a pop-out desk and drew down the one she’d poured over for a few evenings, opening it out on there and smoothing her hands briefly across the pages before pointing to a passage, switching on the lamp overhead as an afterthought.

“What are you looking for in particular?” She asked, trying to gauge whether an idea that was forming in the back of her head was a sensible one or not. Probably not.

"Sorry. Never mind, I'll fin-" He stopped speaking when she continued her sentence. Apology left bitter taste in his mouth, he knew there is a reason why he hates apologizing, well there's one more now. He watched as her attitude became less stiffen. He hasn't noticed that she was alert before, he bit his lip, Bastien thought he is better than this in noticing things. The lack of sleep affects him more than he thought, unfortunately. Or he thought so, it was easier to blame something else then confess that he has a problem. Well unless the obvious one.

The Ministry? He immediately crossed that option. He was never a fan of the Ministry, actually he avoid it as much as he could. The last time when he has been there was when...well when he fill the registration for a werewolf. And he did so only because someone found out about him so he had a choice being punished and sent in Azkaban for the rest of his life or fill the paper. The decision was pretty easy and the next day he was first in the row for the registration.
Even if he wanted to go to the Ministry he couldn't access the part of the Ministry Beth mentioned. Bastien was pretty sure Christian's ex girlfriend was working there since she moved to England, he met her a few times, but he doubted she would do something for him without any explanation. He also doubted she would do anything for one O'Sullivan who is the brother of the one who left her. No, he couldn't count on Nymeria's help. "I don't have the permission to access there. And I doubt they would ever gave one of them to someone like me." Someone arrogant, rude and unpleasant.

He followed Beth through the shelves. For someone who's not working here she was good at navigating. She suddenly stopped so he needed to change his direction so he wouldn't knocked her down on the floor. He doubted she would be thrilled about that and since she obviously decided to help him it was the smallest thing he could do for her. "A cure?" He wasn't sure why he told that as a question. "I need to write about a cure for my essay." He said ostensibly relaxed while his whole body was tensely under his clothes. Every single muscle.
This part of the library remind him of his current workspace but he hoped he would find something here. research in Hogwarts' library so far gave no result.

A cure. There was certainly more within Elizabeth Murdoch than she liked to admit that wanted to scoff and roll her eyes at Sebastien. He seemed earnest, however, if not a little cagey about it and so she was going to allow him the benefit of the doubt. She doubted, however, that he would find a cure in the same tomes that so many had poured over in centuries gone by. Thus far, no cure had been obtained. She doubted that he would be the one to do it, either. If he did, however, she wanted to be the first to know. It made her think twice, nevertheless, about being so rashly dismissive of his hopes. If he did achieve it, it stood to benefit her exponentially.

In the dim light betwixt the shelves towards the back of the library, Beth could squint her eyes a little at the man beside her and she wondered to herself whether or not there was time when he had been happy. The cynic within her wanted to agree to the negative yet as she peered into his pleasant features she found her heart skipping that two beat that was prescribed to a working body. She swallowed a lump she hadn’t realised had been forming in her throat and she cleared it, coughing a little as she looked down towards the book again, feeling the beginnings of a lashing of heat spread through her cheeks. Beth was grateful for the lack of light, needless to say.

“I work at the Ministry,” she pointed out, lifting her head up again to look at him.

Beth slid her hands into her coat pocket and she bit at the inside of her cheek thoughtfully, wondering whether he’d give her the benefit of the doubt. It made a change from saying she worked at Satan’s, of course. As far as the criminal underworld was concerned, of course, she did work at Satan’s. She was Zelda, one of the very charming dancers, who was as equally forgettable as her peers. It was part of her usefulness within her unit. It had been months, though. She wasn’t entirely sure she even qualified as a Ministry employee anymore. She felt more at home receiving pay packets from the nightclub than she did from the government. The latter did not go without its perks, though.

“I can certainly ask a few questions and see if I can get you into the archive,” she went on softly, fully conceding inside her head that the idea was ludicrous.

But of course, her night job made it difficult for her to find time to fix something like that. She was frightfully glad she didn’t have a partner of any kind aside from in the work sense. She didn’t know if she could explain what had happened – what was happening – to her. She didn’t think she’d want to. Not only that but she was half sure she’d be ditched nigh immediately given the irregularity of her hours. It wasn’t conducive to any sort of life – let alone her own. She suffered a bit of a sigh and relented a little bit – that it wouldn’t be as simple as that.

“I won’t be able to get you in until gone midnight, though,” she admitted, thinking of Satan’s. “If you’d be willing to wait I think I can help.”