Pray that Hell or Heaven Lets You In

@Caleb Flint


Despite growing up alongside Caleb and feeling that duty required friendship of them that wasn't entirely founded, Mesut found himself needing the other man's help. Katherine had dropped out of school, not bothering to finish her NEWTs because she had reached the age where the trace was removed and her attendance was no longer required, and he didn't understand it one bit. She had always wanted to do something with Herbology or healing, as far as he knew, and now she was throwing that all away? It was extremely worrying.

Of course, Katherine didn't think so. Ever since Luke had arrived at Ilvermorny and sorted her out, life was pretty grand. Simple, aside from the potions she had to take, but exceptionally grand. When she didn't care, what was there to worry about, anyway?

Down the street from where Mesut was pretending not to be impatient for Caleb's owl, Kit made her way down the sidewalk, fingers curled around her wand as she walked. After a few glances around, she ducked into an alley and disapparated, appearing in Knockturn Alley moments later. Her feet carried her down to a pub she had been recommended to by a new acquaintance. He was a mysterious one, Romanyk. She actually wasn't sure if he was from Russia or not, but that was beside the point. He owned the place, procuring it recently, and she had been flirtatious enough to convince him that he wanted her to come by. Not to mention the whole free drinks thing.

There may have also been a little bit of threatening happening, but he didn't seem surprised or even concerned by it.

As annoyed as she was by his refusal to be intimidated, she wanted something that he had, so there was nothing else for her to do. So she walked up to the Raw Gentleman, rolling her eyes at the name, but mainly at the sign that was set up outside. A round of boys for the guys?

Upon stepping inside, the question made even more sense. The signature drink, according to the board hanging behind the bar, was the boy gentleman. The inappropriate connotation was appreciated at least, and it lifted a smirk on her painted lips. She turned her head and - ah, there he was. He was much too old for her, but Kit had zero intention of going through with anything as far as he was concerned. Not if she didn't have to. He was kind of disgusting, if she was being honest. But he couldn't know that.

He crossed the room, stepping around tables and appearing at her side.

"Freya," he greeted, his voice slimy. She beamed.

Internally, she was vomiting.

"It's as amusing as you claimed," she told him, accepting the arm around her waist despite wanting to hex him instead. "Is the game happening in the back, then?"

"Upstairs."

She hummed and nodded her head, glancing around the place again. "Well. I seem to remember that you promised me a drink, so if you want me to go up there and help, you'd best make good on that, love."

He chuckled like fulfilling her request meant doing exactly what he wanted, and that set off alarms immediately. Perhaps she wouldn't actually drink it in the end. If she failed to do what he wanted, after all, she would know things she shouldn't. Things that couldn't get out. So as he walked away, she determined that she would spill the drink, or dump it and replace it with something else, or perhaps just steal someone else's and pretend she'd mistaken it. There were several ways out, so her self preservation fears were settled fairly quickly.

When he left her alone, she did feel better. More comfortable. Still, she watched as he went, grateful when someone stopped him to talk, giving her more time to settle but also to have him at a pleasing distance. Crossing her arms, she leaned against one of the wooden columns and just let the sensations of the pub sink in.

Caleb worked hard to maintain his air of clean civility. He prided himself on the fact that, despite their being backing for them, no rumor of his misdeeds could ever stick to him. He was more useful that way, and he knew it. That was really the way the Death Eaters worked. The smart ones spent much of their life building credibility, infiltrating networks of information, building up their use... and once their potential was realized, they flung themselves into action. People didn't last long once they pulled off the mask, so to speak. So it was only once their use was realized was it necessary to be so open. Caleb took pride in knowing he was one they wanted to keep around for awhile.

The thrill was in pocketing the smile that wanted to unfurl when someone who should not trust you demonstrated their trust. When someone went out on a limb to confirm their confidence in you, thereby confirming their failure. Caleb's naturally mischievous nature was a good shield, and his charm insured that most people thought themselves to be in on the mystery.

Despite the adrenaline that came from deceit, Caleb could not help but crave a political environment that allowed him to do what he wanted to do. His vanity was tickled, sure, to be considered useful enough to stay secretive, but he would have much rather preferred the organisation to take the offensive, to feel free to act on his convictions in the open. As far as he was concerned, unashamed action was the only way to take back what the Death Eaters were supposed to be.

But alas. That would not happen.

So it was not without a little insurance in his pocket did he step into Knockturn Alley to pursue his business. A Ministry document, a copy of course  citing the pub as a place of potential interest could be procured off his person on the off chance that a colleague or coworker stumbled upon him and called his association with the pub into question. Then he was merely investigating. And the chance of someone in the pub somehow finding said document on his person?

Zero.

So it was with an easy swagger and a tinge of boredom that Caleb approached the bar and slipped inside. He beelined for the bar, thinking a drink was in order. Judging by the less-than-high-end feel of the bar, he didn't bother ordering his usual, instead ordering a local beer as he settled next to-

Oh. Well. This was interesting.

He wasn't sure she was paying him any mind, so with a smirk he greeted the youngest Avery with an overly casually, "Good evening, miss."

Katherine "Freya" Avery was so engrossed in watching Romanyk that she wasn't paying any attention to the goings on in her immediate area. Perhaps that was why even a familiar face didn't garner any notice from the blonde. She wouldn't really have expected Caleb to take interest in her, to be fair, even in a place like this. Mainly because he was her brothers' friend, not hers. But then again, when she was dressed as provocatively as she was, and it was so unusual for the girl she used to be, perhaps it wasn't so strange.

Her head whipped around, her gaze blank despite the fact that curiosity should have been there. Most people would have been curious, she felt. Her old self would have. But what did that matter now? It didn't.

What was interesting, though, was the fact that he had called her Miss. As if he didn't know her. Or, perhaps, as if he thought that her position in the Avery family even remotely earned her a title rather than a name. Or even just a greeting on its own. She didn't deserve it, and her status in her family was all but naught at this point. Not as bad as Luke's, though, she imagined.

Still. She let her gaze flick down his form and back up again, almost lazily. But he could take it however he chose to. When she met his gaze again, she considered smiling. But it didn't happen. Instead, she lifted an eyebrow.

"Mr. Flint."

She turned her chin back towards the bar, looking as subtly as she could for Romanyk. Still, she felt obligated to learn why Caleb was there in the first place, much less approaching her. Sure, it was just a pub to most. But not to her. Not now that she knew better.

So although she didn't look at him again, she directed her next comment at him as well. "Are you here for business or pleasure, Caleb?"

Well this was interesting.

Caleb had never taken much notice of Katherine. He liked Mesut enough to consider her off limits, but she had always also struggled with some sort of disease that kept her in a weakened form. If Caleb was going to begin scouting pureblood women, physical vivacity was rather important for him. He would only marry when he finally felt the urge to produce an heir, and Katherine didn’t seem up for that particular challenge.

Besides, she was Mesut’s sister.

But the little attention he had pad Katherine had painted her as a meek, humble sliver of a person, personality and confidence suppressed by whatever condition seemed to be destroying her body. If he didn’t know that the Averys only had three children, he would have assumed this was some older sister Mesut had been hiding from him – and for good reason. The way her eyes roamed his figure, the lazy lilt of her eyelids, the subtle puckering of her lips, and the attention to detail when it came to choosing an outfit that highlighted her features… Katherine Avery had turned pro overnight.

Few did it without a teacher, however. Who had aided this miraculous transition?

He would lay money on it all being something to do with Mommy and Daddy. Nothing turned a good girl bad like high expectations and parents who just didn’t get it. Rebellion could turn fancy into foxy in an instant. The morbid part of him wondered if she had finally been given a deadline and was deciding to make the most of her days, but that couldn’t account for why a seedy pub with a penchant for illegal deeds would be her first choice for seizing the day.

He held his gaze steady, even as she turned away, his eyes remaining on her face with the discipline of eyes that had seen enough bombshell figures to not need to drink in every pretty woman he met. His lips stretched at her words and he tilted his head. “Do you believe the two to be mutually exclusive?”

He could play cryptic too.

Katherine couldn't help but wonder whether Mesut had said anything. Whether he knew that Kit was in touch with Luke more than she used to be, after everything that had happened. And a large part of her was wondering what was taking Romanyk so long, or what he would say when he came back and found her with Caleb.

The smile that pulled at her lips was one with many layers. On the one hand, it was the question she should have expected - and some part of her did. So she was pleased about that much. But it was also the sort of smile that suggested that Caleb did not know as much as she did. It could have been seen as pitying if she hadn't paired it with a laugh. Perhaps it came off as superior. Kit didn't know if she cared.

"I suppose that depends, doesn't it? On what's at stake."

She turned to face him properly, then. Her hand lifted to the beam she was leaning against, casual though subconsciously purposeful, and her head tilted to the side. Her other hand fell to her hip, her impatience quite obvious.

"I'm not sure what answer you were hoping for. But I'm sure you'd agree with me on that. I do wonder, though, which of those things in fact brought you out, tonight. Or, perhaps you're hoping one might lead to the other, now."

Whatever Caleb Flint had been to her before - which was basically nothing, to be fair, sine he'd never taken much notice of her as far as she could tell - he was almost irritating now. What on earth did he want from her, anyway?

"Is there something you wanted... Mr. Flint?"

She had found her confidence, and her voice. It had never much been there, which was a partial reason for his previous indifference, leading him to wonder if this was truly her own pride, or if it were borrowed or perhaps learned. Maybe she was trying it on, like a new hairstyle, wearing it out to see if it quite suited her. She seemed easy in it, internally assured of her deserving of it... but he had been at this game much longer. He had put in his time with purebloods and Death Eaters, had waltzed in and out of danger unscathed long enough to know his own limitations. New as she was, she probably had no idea how far she could push this act.

Well, he supposed he could be of some assistance there.

Had she not been family to a friend, he might have found himself casually affronted by her sudden assurance of superiority. But he was much too comfortable in his own skin, much too at home here at Knockturn, and even this pub, to be made to feel like the outside. Caleb Flint was, and would always be, an Inside Man.

He leaned towards her, his eyes bright with the invitation to bring her into his confidence. "I have to say, Miss Avery, I like being your test subject. It's some good fun." He smiled and movement from behind her widened the grin as he straightened up, greeting the intruder. "Romanyk, there's my chum. I see your pub is finally on the map!" He let his eyes fall on Katherine's before he turned back. "Is this the beginning of a new era, or is my friend here lost?"

Irritation flowed, hot and stinging, from her chest and up her neck. It didn't quite make it to her cheeks, though, before she caught it, shoving the intruding, offending feeling away. There was no reason to let him know he was winning - even if he was one step closer to ruining her plans for the evening. Plus, her clever little cover story was in serious danger of getting busted.

So while Caleb spoke to Drew, she continued to glare at him, the look a remnant of the narrowed eyes she'd cast his way when he presumed to know her game. Arse. Katherine felt sure he could pick up on how furious she was in the moment he glanced back at her, but then Romanyk's hand was in front of her, drink proffered.

"Flint! Round again to spend money on me and my little business. How generous," Drew said, his smile evident enough in his voice without Kit having to look over and find it. He wasn't particularly humble, was he? Her fingers did locate the glass, though, drawing it out of his hand and towards her chest.

"Actually, I was just about to-"

"You know Freya?" Romanyk cut in unhelpfully. Katherine gave Caleb her most threatening look, daring him to ruin things and find out what happened afterwards. "Actually," Drew stepped closer, voice lowered with heavy secrets, "I was going to see if she could help me upstairs. Distractions for the players, you know? They're betting art as well as money tonight, and I need my man to win."

If she'd had less of her new-found self confidence on hand that night, perhaps she would have been ashamed of being caught out in front of Caleb. In front of her brothers' friend. Perhaps she would have cared about the fact that she could now be called all manner of inappropriate titles without him being - technically - wrong. But somehow she didn't think that he would be surprised by much aside from the fact that her name was Katherine Avery and she was now working with a criminal. The criminal activities in question, surely, would rank lower than that?

"You want in?" Romanyk asked, making Katherine flinch. No, please no. "I offered her a cut but I could spare another if you think you could help. Maybe she distracts and you confund. Whatever... comes to mind."

Caleb could not deny the satisfaction that blossomed within him at the heat of her eyes. They would have burned holes into the side of his head had he not been so welcoming of the daggered gaze. Romanyk, of course, would not notice. A man well connected with the dark and dirty, he wasn't what one might call a criminal mastermind. He was crafty, and he knew how to get by. But to pick up on social subtleties (not that he'd call Kit's disdain subtle at the moment) took more talent than the man possessed.

Caleb's attentive face did not betray these condescending thoughts, eating up the man's every word if only to further embarrass the blonde next to him.

A large smile unfurled at Romanyk's introduction of Katherine. He turned ever so slightly, his eyes lighting up like a child in a candy store. Freya, indeed! Well, this was a most fortuitous turn of circumstance. Her game, whatever it may be, depending on his discretion. And though Caleb tended to pride himself on being a man of integrity, he also deeply appreciated the truth.

She had to be hating this.

"I do know, Freya. Dear family friend, actually," he said, his words oozing with warmth, enough to suffocate her.

And now he had the opportunity to cut into her game.

He grinned. "Better than losing my own money, I suppose." He turned towards Katherine, looking as gallant as could be. "What do you say, Freya? Two heads are better than one."

Katherine could feel Drew beginning to curl an arm around her. He, naively, expected more than he would ever get. But Caleb spoke almost fondly, and it was almost... disgusting. Disgusting that he would have caught on that easily or could worm his way into her plans without her invitation but rather that of the man she was using in order to get what she wanted. Drew retracted his arm at the news that they did know each other, and she couldn't believe how easy it was to get one over on him. What if they didn't really know each other but played it off like this? Goodness' sake.

"Well, Flint... I imagine that would be true if you actually had a brain in yours," Katherine retorted seriously, rousing a loud laugh from Romanyk. "But it seems we're stuck together now. Should we head up?"

"Absolutely. Give me a couple minutes to let my man know who you are. He's sitting with his back to the door so I can pass him things when I wander in," Drew explained quietly, looking quite proud of himself. And then he gave them a nod - and Kit a wink - before slinking upstairs.

Katherine watched him for a moment or two before whipping her head back around to glare at Caleb again. "What in the world do you think you're doing? If you mess this up, I swear," She added, bristling. She did her best to shake it off, taking a second to sniff the drink he had given her before sipping it. Seemed fine, mercifully. Turning her attention back on Caleb, she gathered her wits again.

"Look, here's the new plan. You're a server making drinks and, well, I'm there looking for the obvious. A man with money."

Caleb smiled at her insult, playing along as though this were their usual dynamic, despite the truth that the two had no previous dynamic beyond the usual frosty pureblood civility. Romanyk didn't know any better, of course, and that was all that mattered. Keep the subtext, as volatile as it was, between him and Avery.

And then their third was gone, and Katherine's subtext came bubbling forth, obviously agitated with him. What was he doing? He chuckled and turned to his own drink, deciding it best to let her finish expressing herself, before he put the nail in the coffin of her plans for the night.

His plans had not been to make Katherine Avery hate him, but it sure seemed to be shaping up that way.

Louder than all of those previous, Caleb laughed at Katherine's plan. "A server?" he repeated, the laughed bubbling up again. He would not even talk about the offense he should take that he should ever play the part of a servant. That could be excused by her irritation with him, and it only showed how far she had to go in the way of reading people. "Oh, love, you need to read some more spy novels. I'm Caleb Flint, yes? Let's forget the fact that this won't be my first game with these chaps-" His smirk deepened, certain she would be unsettled to hear this development "-but even then, these men would know who I am. I'm an Auror, a pureblood, and, if you remember, I tripled my financial value last year. You'd be better suited to play server," he said, eyes twinkling. "But I wouldn't ever ask you to stoop so below your station."

Even though you were foolish enough to think I'd ever stoop beneath mine.

He yawned and finished off his drink. "You're overthinking it. I'll play me, and you'll play Freya and we're running late. Smooth sailing."