“I see,” Kristoffer replied, everything in his voice suggesting tell me more. He wouldn’t be surprised if the Borgins were not the only ones in the business of poisons - supposed there were any number of Lestrange relatives who might be educated enough in the subject to explain these things to him - but, given the choice, Kris thought he’d rather hear these things in Miss Borgin’s particularly dulcet tones anyday.
And she was quite right. No satisfaction in that. No fun at all. He would be satisfied to see bloody Mr. Turner offed, of course, but he didn’t fancy risking his own future in doing the honours, and there would be so little pleasure in it if he did not suffer some long drawn out humiliations first. “I quite agree,” he said lightly, supposing that even in that he would not want to be caught out as a culprit. And how would he get it to Turner, anyway? The nerd barely left the library, and he couldn’t put poison - or anything else - in a book. Perhaps by owl post? An anonymous gift, perhaps, something cursed -
He moved a little closer in to Miss Borgin under the pretext of eyeing an item beside her, although his attention was scarely on it. “But if anything were to happen to that kind of end, Miss Borgin,” he said - all theoretical at this point, of course - “it would be a pity if any word were to get out. I hope you’d not be too duty-bound by your new badge and give me up, would you?” He was still smiling at her, though there was a pointed seriousness now underneath. (If her loyalties lay there, of course, there was always the fact that things might just as easily get sourced back to here, and her.)
And she was quite right. No satisfaction in that. No fun at all. He would be satisfied to see bloody Mr. Turner offed, of course, but he didn’t fancy risking his own future in doing the honours, and there would be so little pleasure in it if he did not suffer some long drawn out humiliations first. “I quite agree,” he said lightly, supposing that even in that he would not want to be caught out as a culprit. And how would he get it to Turner, anyway? The nerd barely left the library, and he couldn’t put poison - or anything else - in a book. Perhaps by owl post? An anonymous gift, perhaps, something cursed -
He moved a little closer in to Miss Borgin under the pretext of eyeing an item beside her, although his attention was scarely on it. “But if anything were to happen to that kind of end, Miss Borgin,” he said - all theoretical at this point, of course - “it would be a pity if any word were to get out. I hope you’d not be too duty-bound by your new badge and give me up, would you?” He was still smiling at her, though there was a pointed seriousness now underneath. (If her loyalties lay there, of course, there was always the fact that things might just as easily get sourced back to here, and her.)
