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Grayson/Bella
"So what you're saying is that you've figured out a way to tear out a person's spine and keep them alive. That's what you're telling me here, right now." Grayson Wilkes tapped his fingers against the table impatiently, glancing to Bellatrix with a skeptical arch of his brow. The returning glare that he received was enough to at least make him think that Bellatrix wouldn't play so cruel a joke on him.

"Are you saying that you doubt me, Grayson?" It was obvious just how much the mere thought irked Bellatrix, and he couldn't help the way that his lips twitched into a smirk.

"Show me, then. You know how we Russians are -- no belief in anything except what we can see with our own eyes." That was a lie, but he highly doubted that she was going to correct him.

The squirming auror-in-training suddenly stilled from his irritating spasms and looked over to the pair at the table with wide, unblinking eyes. This was suddenly part of the conversation he wanted to hear. While Grayson continued to tap an erratic rhythm on the table, Bellatrix slid her foot unceremoniously up the man's thigh and rested it against his groin, mimicking the beat he was drumming.

Well.

"And what will you give me, Wilkes," She rolled her toes in his lap and he merely lofted his brow a little higher, "if I do?"

Grayson peered down to the trainee and pressed a fingertip to his lips, thoughtful. "...you know what the sight of blood does to me, dear." He knew for a fact that if anyone else had dared to call her dear they wouldn't have been alive long enough to blink -- as it was, he got a very displeased scowl that dissolved achingly slowly into a devious grin.

"Hm. Well, I suppose I'll still have an extra five minutes after proving your stubborn disbelief wrong to do something." Bella watched Grayson squirmed, convinced that at least half of his anticipation was not for the aftermath but for the act that she was about to preform.

She was right.