Who: Grayson Wilkes & Caradoc Dearborn
What: Sigh
Where: Wilkes abode
When: Tonight


Well wasn't this annoying.

Caradoc refrained from continuing to tap his fingers against the short end table next to his chair. Because, well, there wasn't much left for him to do to show his impatience over waiting in this over stuffed library any longer. The thought that he was waiting for Grayson Wilkes was more than enough to make him stay and not leave (sadly...), so what was the problem? It was a well known fact that Grayson did not have an actual profession, like himself, though no doubt if breaking other people's bones became a new line of living, Grayson Wilkes would be the front runner already years in the business. But they could be honest here, his hours of business really only occurred during the night as every Death Eater's should. So why the wait? They both knew he was sitting upstairs, most likely not doing anything important.

Again, Caradoc glared at the house-elf across the room next to the door. This twit definitely had something to do with this waiting business. Yes, because if this was the other way around, and Caradoc had called the other man in for a little 'meeting' (Caradoc had chosen to ignore what this get together was suppose to about, because honestly enough, guessing with a Wilkes about his intentions really was fruitless), he would have made him wait and put Filkes in the room with him too.

Eventually, the door did open, and the house-elf bowed low as Caradoc stood up. "Mister Dearborn, Master Wilkes," he wheezed, and then quickly slipped out of the room.

Yes, Grayson had definitely been keeping Caradoc waiting on purpose -- it wasn't as if he had anything else to do, and quite honestly ... he found that it was much easier to deal with people when they were a little worn-out from waiting. It made it far easier for him to judge just what they might've been hiding. Grayson Wilkes was of the opinion that Caradoc Dearborn had far too much to hide for his own good.

Starting with that little bitch, Emmeline Vance. It hadn't been too difficult to find out who she was and Grayson had been very pleased to find out just who she was cavorting with on a regular basis. Dearborn (well, the younger of the two) had always rubbed him the wrong way and the past few months had made him feel very uneasy about where the other man's loyalties were put. This seemed like the most ideal way to have Caradoc commit to their cause.

"I hope you know why I've called you here." Normally he might've attempted some sort of small-talk or at least apologized for keeping Caradoc waiting, but he was quite done with formalities where the other man was concerned. He was still seething with hatred over what Emmeline had dared to do to him during the little Minister fiasco and if there was someone who deserved to be punished more than her at this point and time Grayson couldn't think of them.

He smiled thinly at the other man and took a seat some distance away from Caradoc, making sure that he walked uncomfortably close to his knees for a moment before sitting down.

"I think we'll be needing drinks, although I'm sure that with how useless that house elf is you'll be able to grab yours on the way out."

While Caradoc really hadn't cared to think beyond the idea that Grayson wanted him to do something, most likely along the lines of maim or kill someone, he supposed he should have thought of more possibilities as to why he was here. Even though he knew that was the reason, because again, who were they trying to fool? They had never truly gotten along (although admittedly better than most), even in school, and it was blaringly obvious they were civil to each other only because it was easier that way. And even if he was completely off as to why he was in the library, like hell Caradoc was going to show it. That would be like letting Wilkes win.

"Vaguely, yes, I think I have some idea," Caradoc started slowly and placidly, watching Grayson carefully for any clues. The man seemed to be a bit... angry, but then again, Grayson always appeared to be aggravated about something. It could be about anything, really. Caradoc wouldn't be surprised if the reason behind his scowl today was simply because the sun had decided to come out.

A thin smile to match Grayson's slid onto Caradoc's face as he sat back further into his chair. Who didn't love a good house-elf jab? Though now, it just seemed annoying; it was yet another set of words that prolonged the reveal of the real point of this little meeting. Though he supposed it hadn't been all useless, at least now he knew he wouldn't be staying for long. Not like there would be any reason why he would want to stay here of all places any longer than he had to.

So, not giving any reason to start something new, Caradoc didn't say anything but simply moved his arms to rest on the sides of his chair, continuing to watch Grayson. What lackie assignment did he have to do now?

Caradoc would probably be begging for a beginner's assignment in a few minutes. Grayson observed the other man watching him (yes, he could tell even if they weren't making eye contact, Merlin knew he spent enough time watching other people) with tightly pursed lips. "Do you, now? I suppose I shouldn't be so surprised, we did play Quidditch together." Assumingly that granted other people some degree of certainty about Grayson's actions, but that was trying to ground the ungroundable or some other Twilight bullshit like that.

He tapped his fingers down on the arm of his chair for a few moments as if considering exactly how to phrase his next ... request. But it wasn't a request, of course, it was an order -- which made it that much sweeter as far as Grayson was concerned.

"You are going to kill Emmeline Vance." Perhaps a little anti-climactic, especially with how calm (and bored) he sounded about it ... but straight to the point. He wasn't telling Caradoc that she needed to be killed, or that he wanted her killed. He was going to do it, no questions asked.

Or else.

Quidditch? Right. Since when did Grayson Wilkes find fun in mentioning their Quidditch team days? Caradoc felt himself sit up a bit straighter, finding this statement a bit too out there for him to be lulled into whatever Grayson wanted him to be lulled into. Not only was it completely-- he didn't honestly think that Caradoc would believe he called him all the way over here to talk about Quidditch. No one cared about that anymore, hardly even with---

He wanted him to fucking do what?

Caradoc stayed perfectly still for a few seconds, now blatantly watching Grayson very closely. He couldn't seriously be asking (well, it wasn't really asking), more like telling him to do this because he had successfully gotten her off of the Dark Lord's mind for months now, so what could possibly--- Mungo's. Oh fucking-- honestly, honestly? The one fucking time that-- as something like a bubbling anger began to form in his stomach, Caradoc pressed himself to appear emotionless. That was all he needed on top of everything, for Grayson Wilkes to be wondering why the hell he seemed to care about a blood traitor like Emmeline Vance. Which he... didn't. Of course.

No, no, this was not going to happen. There was still a possibility that-- "And why is this?" Caradoc managed, turning his head slightly to the side as he spoke. No, no, not yet.

Grayson rather liked observing Caradoc in that moment, knowing that he was probably thinking about Emmeline. If it had been anyone else, any of the other Death Eaters ... they probably wouldn't have questioned him in the first place, but they'd probably have accepted anything he said. He arched his brow at the other man, though.

"I think it's obvious enough that she's going to become a problem sooner rather than later ... and I can only imagine you'd like to get on the Dark Lord's best side. Consider it a belated Christmas gift." Holiday cheer all around, that was Grayson.

Right, and Bertram Aubrey was going to become a celibate monk.

He flashed the other man another smile, completely and utterly fake, and waved a hand in the air.

"It isn't as if the world will miss one of her sort, anyway."

He couldn't help it, but as Grayson spoke, Caradoc's eyes turned into two tight slits. This was... he didn't know what made him angrier, the very real possibility that Grayson might know something or that he himself was being forced into something that he had not prepared for yet, because of course he had gone and believed Dumbledore that---

What the fuck was he going to do? In all--- yes, of course he knew that this would eventually become a very big issue, but not as quickly as it had. It hadn't even been a year, barely, and now--- holy shit, he had gone and done everything wrong, leaving him officially screwed either way. And of course Grayson just loved that, as much as he didn't want to show that, it was obvious that he was enjoying this stretch of power. Holy shit, holy shit, he was going to kill him, just---

He had to calm down. To think--- properly. Fully. There was always a way around and out everything, there always had been before, so there would be now. And--- wow, he really hated Grayson Wilkes.

Whether it was meant to be or not, Caradoc decided to take Grayson's hand wave as a sign that they were done. While he wanted to abruptly get up and storm out, he was well aware that right now, that could probably be the worst thing to do. So casually, Caradoc rose from his chair with a hard, emotionless face.

"Is that all?" he mustered.

He arched a brow at Caradoc once more and ignored the fact that the other man was all but glaring at him. Instead, he placed a finger to his lips. "No, actually," he mused, "It isn't."

Grayson let a slow, easy smile slide across his lips. Yes, he really did take great pleasure in knowing that this was going to be painful for Caradoc to do. People had to know not to cross a Wilkes, after all, or things would all but fall apart. "I hate to rush you," and his smile turned just a little sharper, "But this is a matter of some urgency. You have one week." And of course the promise of a very painful and unpleasant consequence was left unsaid but very much implied.

"Now, though, you can go. I would hate to keep you from the planning you no doubt have to get started on."