Waiting for the Lights

Cecily had to say, locking yourself up in your own pub and never seeing anyone was apparently not a very good thing to do, as it made it more likely for people to not notice when you died. No one ever came to see her boss. She couldn't imagine they would start.

The Frenchwoman placed the slightly bloodied knife on the table in front of the dead body, watching as the knife absorbed the blood that tripped along the tip, the slit that ran along the old man's throat slowly closing, leaving nothing but a stained beard. It really was a beautifully crafted knife. And very helpful for keeping things from getting messy.

Cecily leant forward, taking the spectacles from the man's face, folding them and tucking them into her robes, placing a soft kiss on his cheek before straightening herself, feeling a slight pang of loss. He had been a good boss. It was a shame this had to happen. But he was far past his time.

Heading up the stairs, she walked to the bar, which she tended herself, there only being the two of them. If no one knew he was dead, then people could believe that there was still just the two of them. She spotted her guest as soon as she saw her, the eyes unmissable when you were seeking them. Heading over, Cecily slid the spectacles across the bar, bowing her head as she spoke.

"It is done, My Lady."

They didn't make newspapers here like they did in Russia. Nubilia flicked through her copy of the Daily Prophet (what a stupid name. Really. The Daily Prophet. Bah) feeling herself get more bored with every word. She didn't process what she was reading; she never processed what she read. Waste of brain cells, in her opinion. If it was important, then it wouldn't be written down on a stupid paper like this one, right? She barely looked up as she heard one of her Avengers come up the stairs, turning the page idly. "Really? Thought you'd never get around to it. I've been sitting here for ages!" She did look up, then, with a scowl on her face, placing the newspaper on the table.

"Get me a drink, will ya?" Nubilia yawned, stretching out, almost catlike, if she were to go there. "Something strong and with a kick would be nice." She waved her hand dismissively, not caring very much whether she was acting like the appropriate leader or not. She wanted a drink, and she was damn well going to get her drink.

Cecily simply smiled at the scowl she was met with, unphased by it. The other woman did seem to change moods quite a bit, and was relatively impatient, from what Cecily had gathered so far. It wasn't every day that she got to meet with Lady Vindex, so the woman's attitude didn't bother her that much.

The Frenchwoman headed down the bar, pouring a strong drink, once again, not rushing. Though she didn't go slowly exactly. Since coming to the bar, she'd learned that pouring the drinks too quickly would just wind up with her spilling them. Heading back to where the Lady sat, she slid the drink across the bar, glancing round briefly to see if there were other people who needed to be served. There wasn't.

"When you want to see it, the room is there," Cecily started. "Though I imagine that the passage to the school will need to be closed to stop students from getting 'ere. I 'ope the drink is to your liking."