Walden honestly couldn't say that he felt bad for what he'd done to Miranda. He'd tried to make it clear to her that it wasn't anything that he had against her, and that it was just business.
That wasn't true, of course, but he didn't inherently hate the girl. It was Ralph that he had problems with, and it had become increasingly apparent in the past few months that his last little scare hadn't been enough to get things through Ralph's stubborn head and into his tiny brain.
He'd been beginning to think that Ralph was never going to show up at his door, righteously angry about whatever harm had ultimately come to his precious little woman. Walden was surprised to see the other man on the other side of his door through the peep-hole he glanced through briefly out of habit (becoming a Death Eater made a man extremely paranoid, after all), but he wasn't terribly perturbed.
A fight was always ... fun, after all. Walden clutched his own wand tightly in his lead hand and with his off-hand picked up the nearest whacking-object -- in this case, the umbrella on the hat rack -- before he opened the door ... and greeted Ralph with a wide-sweeping forward swing of it.
Ralph hadn't come here to talk, anyway. No need to hash out petty formalities that neither of them wanted to go through. It was the middle of the day, so there weren't many people out. He wasn't concerned about anyone interrupting them.
Besides, this way he wouldn't have to clean up inside.
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