Relaxing with a hard drink

[Wren Taylor]

Wren's whole body tensed with Brigitte's actions, and as soon as the other witch had left, Wren's head snapped to face Bane.

"What the hell was that about??" she snapped, trying to restrain the anger building up inside her. Rising from his lap, Wren went and sat opposite him, in the once occupied seat. "Explain!" she snapped, grabbing the bottle of malt whiskey and pouring herself a full glass and downing it.

It may not have been entirely his fault, but she was pissed. The woman had obviously tried to get her back up and she had succeded. and because she had left, she was now taking it out on Bane, knowingly taking it out on him.

"I want all the details..." pouring herself another glass, and downing it just as quickly, she repeated until she had drank about half the bottle. ".....unless there's something you can't tell me?" she hissed, her eyes narrowed, her hair falling around her face, and for the first time in years, she genuinely looked evil.

[Bane Orwell]

Bane was taken back by Wren's sudden jealousy... but found it rather to his liking. He couldn't explain it, but seeing her get so angry that another woman had talked to him... well, he couldn't help but smile. However, the evil look she was throwing him quickly dissolved the smile. While they weren't formally in a relationship, here Wren was getting scathingly jealous of a Pure Blood... a Death Eater on top of that.

Bane was struggling on how to tell her. I mean, admitting that he'd been talking to a known and wanted fugitive... especially a Death Eater. But on the other hand, if he didn't tell her, this could lead to a fast end to the relationship they were working toward. This would have to be dealt with... delicately. He reached across the table and took her hands in his and squeezed gently.

"Wren, baby," Bane took a slow, deep breathe and continued in a whisper, "I want nothing to do with her, I assure you that. I can't tell you her name, it's too dangerous to do so. She's an informant who was bringing me word of a planned attack at the memorial service at Hogwarts tomorrow. Said that Dale Matthews, a well known Death Eater, will be attempting an assassination, but she doesn't know who the target is... he wouldn't divulge that information to her. I don't know how accurate the report is, but I need to send an owl to Flintock and see what we can muster to investigate this."

He squeezed her hand again, "I can't risk her name becoming public knowledge though, Wren. Please understand. I know I said I'm retired, but somethign like this... I can't ignore it. With the mass break out from Azkaban, the Death Eaters are as dangerous now as they've ever been. I can't let those filthy Pure-Bloods continue wrecking havoc."

[Wren Taylor]

Wren had started to calm as he explained, she understood he couldn't tell her everything, how ever much she wanted to know, she was slightly annoyed however that he was sticking his ore in when he was apparently retired.

Finishing her current glass, she stroked the back of his hands with her finger tips and nodded in understanding. As she went to speak, he interjected her with his last sentence. Big mistake.

Her hands flew back from his, and the petite witch rose to her feet in onw swift movement. Saying her eyes were burning were with anger was an understatement. She looked like she was about to kill him. Stepping around the table, death in her eyes, her voice was low, almost silent, "What?..." she growled in her breath, her seemingly black eyes looking down at him, her lips twitching with pure, unmixed anger.

[Bane Orwell]

Bane's voice caught in his throat as she towered over him in anger. This went beyond simply beign jealous. And this time he had no idea what she was angry about. He held his hands up and his voice quaked as he spoke.

"W-w-w-wren, babe, w-w-w-w-w-what's wrong?" Was all he could manage as he stared up at her, his face full of confusion and fear.

[Wren Taylor]

Her hand shot down and grabbed Bane around the throat. Her temper giving her strength she would never of normally had.

Pulling him to his feet, her other hand slapped him roughly across his cheek. "So it's just us PURE BLOODS that wreak havoc huh?" her voice was now thundering around the whole pub, causing everyone, staff and customers, to stare. Her whole body shook violently with rage, he was lucky he was so big, if he wasn't, she would have launched him across the room by now.

[Bane Orwell]

Bane's lips twisted into a snarl as her words struck him, us PURE BLOODS. She was a Pure Blood.... he had slept with a filthy Pure Blood WHORE!!!! He grabbed her wrist firmly with one of his big hands and ripped her hand away as he stood up.

"Yeah, it is you," the one word cut through the air like a goblin crafted blade, "filthy Pure Blood whores that cause the havoc. Killing off everyone else because they're not PURE enough for you!"

His voice was low and dangerous and he had to will his hand from goign for the walker colt at his hip.

[Wren Taylor]

The anger that was flooding through both of them wasn't helping wren's current situation. Her eyes flashed red as she clenched her fist and swung it upwards, hitting his nose with an almighty upper cut. She felt her knuckles crack but the anger caused the pain to be blocked.

"If i recall, you never f*cking asked, and that's not something I would just come out with!" As his words swept through her mind though, her lips curved into a sneer "oh i see what this is" she cackled "there's only one type of wizard that would hold such distain against pure bloods..." she cackled again and pursed her lips. "...mud-blood, correct?"

[Bane Orwell]

Bane let out a roar and lifted Wren off her feet by her throat, his grip tight as his lips curled back, "What did you say you filthy tramp? It's Pure-blood elitist c*nts like you that allowed Voldemort the ability to rise to power. I bet you stood by when they took over the Ministry right? Letting them in and out of the place like they were worshipful heroes"

Bane bodily threw her by her throat his other hand drawing the walker colt from it's holster. He brought it up, his thumb pulling the hammer back... his aim lined up on her. But he stopped. As angry as he was.... he couldnt' pull the trigger. Not on her.

[Wren Taylor]

Landing, Wren's feet slid back across the floor and her lower back slammed into an empty table behind her. "EXCUSE YOU" she screamed, taking a running stance facing Bane. Someone needed to calm down because she would end up trying to kill him if both their tempers remained elevated.

"How f*****g dare you, you don't know me, you don't know anything about me, you don't even know my goddamn f*****g age!!" Sprinting up to him, Wren used her dance and reflex skills to swing her leg around at the same time as jumping and allowed her foot to make contact with his cheek bone.

"As I said, mud-blood, it's not just us that caused bloody havoc."

[Bane Orwell]

Bane spun with the kick, pain flashing through his eyes. As he came back around with the spin he used the momentum to power the blow he dealt... bringing the heavy gun into her shoulder with a loud thud.

"Yeah, not like a pure blood slut like you cared to actually converse.... wanted to jump strait into the sack didn't ya? How many Death Eater beds did you keep warm?" His voice was low and he knew that part of him was fighting to calm him down. He needed to stop... he cared about her... but this was far too much for him to just stop.

[Wren Taylor]

Wren let out a glass shattering yelp and clutched her shoulder, she now had at least two broken bones.

Regaining her composure, she looked up at him, her eyes filled with water, one hand holding her shoulder, and the other holding her long sleeve where her wand was stored. "Oh totally, because she decided conversing would be such a good idea and made the effort also right? If I remember correctly you made the advances while we were meant to be in a business meeting." Wincing, she moved her hand clasping her shoulder, and slapped him again with it "Which I still haven't had the outcome from our little meeting."

[Bane Orwell]

The walker colt fell from Bane's hand and clattered on the ground. His cheek burned, but not all of it was from the fighting. The item she was talking about was in his inside pocket... he'd been busting his ass since they're meeting, every minute he wasnt' with her he'd been working on it. He'd actually stopped in early today because he'd finally finished it for her. It was an elegant silver necklace with a diamond setting in it. The diamond was absolutely pure, he'd made sure of it... having spent days checkign with his suppliers to find it.

He reached into his jacket, pulled out the hard leather bound case and set it on the table he'd been sitting at. He spoke no words as he turned and strode toward the door. He clicked the hammer on his other colt and the one on the floor sped toward him.

[Wren Taylor]

Clasping her shoulder again, Wren scowled "Don't walk away from me Bane!" But maybe him walking away was a good thing. It was causing part of the anger in her to wain, but her own anger was slowly being replaced with guilt, nausea and pain.

Glancing down at the leather case, her eyes darted back and forth between the back of Bane and the case. Don't be so weak she hissed to herself, he had offended her, and grouped her in with the stereotypical, murdering, pure bloods. He was out of order.

Slipping her wand from up her sleeve, Wren ran and caught Bane up. "I said don't walk away from me" she hissed, holding the tip of her wand to his back.

[Bane Orwell]

Bane stopped just in front of the door and didn't bother turning around, his voice icy cold, "Our business is concluded, Miss Taylor. Unless you would like to make another order, I'll take my leave."

Bane stood still, waiting for her reply. His eyes were downcast, mentally struggling not to let the tears flow. He'd come in to surprise her with the necklace... to show up early at work for her. And because of that stupid pure blood this was how things were turning out. Maybe it was for the best... he had business to attend to now. With Deneuve's information, things were goign to be busy... not to mention dangerous.

[Wren Taylor]

Even if he had turned to come back, Wren wouldn't of been able to hold her wand to him. Her anger was minimal now that the guilt had kicked in. She wanted to throw up but she wouldn't let herself.

Her wand fell to the floor, and, whimpering, she lowered her head, stepped back and sat on the nearest chair. The pain started to hit her, hard, as the shock wore off. As she started to shake, tears flowed down her grey, pasty, cheeks. "Bane...." she squeaked, her eyes rolling around in her head. Hopefully the tears would keep her conscious. She was never one to cope with pain, and the surges of emotion had caused her to feel like her head and her chest were being clamped between a vice.