Charles listened. And it wasn’t the kind of listening one did just so they could get through the conversation and await their turn to speak, it was the kind of listening one did when they wanted to know what was going on and were genuinely interested. It was the kind of listening that Charles responded to with nods and a quick shift in his stature, though no words. However much he wanted to remark on her drinking firewhiskey.
Not that he cared if she was drinking but it was firewhiskey. To him, it tasted like what imagined charcoal mixed with water and then put through a strainer and set on fire, thrown in the trash, and allowed the juices to set for a few days before bottling it tasted like. To cut a long story short; she’d made a terrible choice. Muggle rum was much better; the navy rum he’d often found in London. Now that was the good stuff.
“Trivial, nonsensical silly school girl drivel that has clearly caused you a great deal of upset, Miss Woodcroft,” He huffed lightly, “Of course I want to listen and I shan’t be happy until I’m content you have calmed yourself down.” Shifting in his seat a little, Charles narrowed his eyes slightly before sighing, “What happened once he’d made his… feelings clear? Were they feelings or intentions?”
Truth be told, Charles could feel his blood beginning to boil at the thought that someone may have tried to take advantage of this girl – or any girl for that matter. He may not have been on any interrogation or investigation team within the Ministry, but his job was different and sought after in its own unique way. Disposing and despatching of… undesirables was part of his job. Sometimes.
Now he really wanted a drink and the temptation came out in the form of him scratching at the back of his hand casually.
Not that he cared if she was drinking but it was firewhiskey. To him, it tasted like what imagined charcoal mixed with water and then put through a strainer and set on fire, thrown in the trash, and allowed the juices to set for a few days before bottling it tasted like. To cut a long story short; she’d made a terrible choice. Muggle rum was much better; the navy rum he’d often found in London. Now that was the good stuff.
“Trivial, nonsensical silly school girl drivel that has clearly caused you a great deal of upset, Miss Woodcroft,” He huffed lightly, “Of course I want to listen and I shan’t be happy until I’m content you have calmed yourself down.” Shifting in his seat a little, Charles narrowed his eyes slightly before sighing, “What happened once he’d made his… feelings clear? Were they feelings or intentions?”
Truth be told, Charles could feel his blood beginning to boil at the thought that someone may have tried to take advantage of this girl – or any girl for that matter. He may not have been on any interrogation or investigation team within the Ministry, but his job was different and sought after in its own unique way. Disposing and despatching of… undesirables was part of his job. Sometimes.
Now he really wanted a drink and the temptation came out in the form of him scratching at the back of his hand casually.