June 12th, 1892 — A fancy hotel in muggle London

Samuel wasn't sure if he was looking forward to - or dreading this. Like poking a nasty cut, it was likely to be uncomfortable and incredibly awkward but it also felt like it needed to be done. This cold shouldered 'feud' between him and Crouch was not making anyone happy - and after all he was a politician, an ambassador, there were few problems in his experience that couldn't be solved by too willing parties talking. He also had to work with the man's brother and some modicum of civility being restored would make things easier - in that regard at least. Not being able to host the head of the department he was meant to be working the closest with to his home was starting to become tedious.

When Mister Crouch was entered the hotels smoking room he stood in greeting, adjusting his jacket in what future generations would call the picard maneuver, a sharp tug to the bottom of his jacket to ensure it had not ridden up and a cover to his discomfort and give him something to do with his hands in the time between the mans approach and the awkward extension of his hand to the other man, but thought better of it, and transitioned to a motion to the other seat. He nodded to the bar man to bring them whiskey - muggle whiskey rather than fire.

When the decanter, small jug of water and the two glasses were delivered to the table, Samuel cast a subtle muffling spell, so no one, and certainly none of the muggles would hear them. 'Thank you for coming Mister Crouch - I suppose this is one way to formally meet,'

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