ATM II RPG

[the guy who be short]

Angawen sat penseively in her quarters. She still could not believe she had let such emotion overcome her. For years she had been mineral-like in her lack of emotion, her ability to keep her head in all situations. Just one international crossing and her ability to control herself seemed to have vanished.

It was the people in Mordor, that was the problem. She had not experienced such people before; quite rightly, for they were indeed abominations. Skittles... She forced herself not to linger on that woman. But even Lady Alli... yes, she admired Lady Alli. Here was a fierce woman of an iron will, much akin to herself. She could not help feel respect as well as the natural dislike that should arise from such an encounter. And yet, even in her, one found the mannerisms of Mordor seeping through. Tupsè, indeed. Tup-seh... She turned her mind from mispronunciation, for she knew what could happen if she indulged herself in faux-indignation.

One thing, in any case, was clear. Mordor was a place unlike any other, a place that had baited her when no land in Gondor could. But she had merely been caught off her guard. She knew now what she faced, and resolved to toughen her defence, to be always on guard, and to show no more anger, nor any hint of feeling whatsoever, in this land. She had not spent years becoming a woman of importance to become a lowly emotive creature upon stepping into Mordor.

****
A muffled "come in."

Angawen turned to her bodyguards. "You are to remain at this door. Nobody, Mordorian or Gondorian, is to enter this room until I come out." She did not bother waiting for a response, and opening the oak door, marched into Hyarmenwë's quarters.

He was sitting at his table, bare save a candle and a manuscript opened before him. He looked at her, and neither his mouth nor his eyes softened as he greeted her. "Hail, Lady Angawen of Gondor. A pleasant surprise to see you here."

"It is most pleasurable," she replied in Quenya, "to meet with you here, Lord Hyarmenwë. May I take a seat?" She indicated the only other chair in the room, hewn of rough wood, opposite his.

"Of course, Lady," he replied, still speaking in Westron. "May I inquire wherefore you use the High tongue? There is no need of such ceremony here."

Angawen seated herself opposite him and smiled to herself. To hear Hyarmenwë seem to belittle ceremony was worth at least fifty Skittles running amok. She continued in Quenya, "I feel the urge to speak with you, Lord. I have worries I feel only you may deal with," she noticed him sit up a little at this, though she knew he didn't trust a word of it, "and felt that it would be beneficial to make full use of our mutual knowledge of the High Tongue to minimise the thread of being overheard and understood by undesirable parties."

He succumbed and turned the conversation into a purely Quenyan phenomenon. "You have such little faith in the citizens of Mordor? We are under diplomatic protection and I'm sure you have two sturdy men guarding the door. What chance is there of being spied upon?"

"You have reason concerning my guards," she replied, "but I am not sure we are any longer protected by diplomatic immunity. I remind you that our mission had been - cancelled. In any case, these people are most unlike us, and I would not trust to their manners nor to their goodwill. Lady Alli is a cunning woman. I do not see her passing up a chance to listen in on all we say for her own motives."

Hyarmenwë nodded curtly. "That may be; but have we not found that these Mordorians speak Quenya as well as we?"

"No," she replied abruptly. "I do not believe all of them do. That Dwarf, he did not understand our words. Nor did the girl. The madwoman I can be no judge of."

He nodded once more. "Then it is fair that we should speak in Quenya. What counsel may I give?"

Angawen did not reply straight away. She gathered her thoughts before putting him the question "Why, Hyarmenwë, do you believe you were sent on this assignment?"

"I am a great statesman and most loyal to the Kingdom," he answered without a second thought.

"Yes. And I?"

"You have a cunning and cold mind. The mind of a ruthless man, not a soft woman."

She ignored the swipe. "And Bearugard and Malfoidacil?"

"I do not claim to understand the mind of our - Lord - Mardil."

"Hyarmenwë, I come to you because I know you can be trusted to hold yourself to the will of Gondor. I, too, hold myself accountable to Gondor, through the Lord Mardil. I know you, Lord, and you know me. But I do not know Malfoidacil, and I fear what will holds him to it."

"You worry about his loyalty? Mardil would not have selected Malfoidacil if he were not fully assured of his loyalty."

"And yet, do you not find it strange that all we three should be expulsed so rudely from a gathering of states, whereas he should be admitted to the council of Lady Alli?"

Hyarmenwë remained quiet.

"He knows Lady Alli. They are old friends from this land - this land whence he came. I shall be blunt, Hyarmenwë. I do not trust him."

Hyarmenwë replied slowly. "I cannot claim to share your distrust, Lady, for I have faith in Mardil. But I agree that he is something of an anomaly. I am not at ease around him."

"If you were to leave your life in his hands, would you trust him?"

"Nay, Lady, nor you," he replied with something of a smile on his old face. "But," he continued, "you have given me cause to think. Perhaps one can be loyal to Mardil and yet to Mordor at once. I have more confidence in Bearugard."

"And I less. Good blood does not a good statesman make. I think he is not yet mature enough for these negotiations."

"He has more years than you."

"He has all he wants, that much is true. He will not make Lady Alli agree to terms by demanding them bluntly of her. I do not see he understands the ways of negotiation. He is young, still, at heart. In that his father committed him an unkindness."

Again, her words were met with a silence from the Lord, who was staring intently but blankly at the manuscript in front of him. After thirty seconds, he looked up. "You come here to complain of our companions. Malfoidacil is, you say, a traitor - do not interrupt me," he said, for she had tried to object. "In so many words, this is what you said. And Bearugard is a fool. What then am I? A conservative imbecile, no doubt? What is your point?"

Angawen smiled at him entirely unconvincingly. "Lord, our thoughts have not always been at accord. You have not always approved of me, nor I of you. However, as ambassadors, we must push these insignificant personal details aside. I have utmost respect for your powers of speech, persuasion, and duty. Some of these qualities I find worryingly lacking in our comrades."

He waited for her to go on.

"Lord, we must not allow personal factors to come between us. I shall be blunt. I feel Malfoidacil and Bearugard are incompetent for this task. I see that you share my thoughts on Malfoidacil, at least, though you are unwilling to admit it. Therefore, I say to you, that we two should work as closely together as we may. We must not keep secrets nor even thoughts from one another. To succeed in this harsh land, we must work together, as if we were one. We must," she finished passionately, "work together for the good of Gondor!"

"If I understand you, you would have me share my thoughts with you - this is fair, for you are correct, it is necessary in these circumstances - and to cut off my thoughts from Malfoidacil and Bearugard. Lady, I too shall be blunt. I do not trust Malfoidacil, though my distrust does not come close to yours. However, I smell no ill-will in Bearugard. Therefore, I accept your proposition to forget our petty dislikes for a greater cause and to coalesce, on condition that Beaurgard be admitted to our party."

The conversation had not gone as Angawen had anticipated. But still - it was of little import if that immature child, as she thought him, should be admitted to the group, as long as he kept his mouth shut. The important thing was that this task required a degree of unity she had not hitherto anticipated, and that it was absolutely necessary to counter the threat of treachery in Malfoidacil.

"Lord, I accept."

[Boromir88]

Bearugard began pacing, back and forth, in his room; unable to rest or calm down. His thoughts kept focusing on the strange surroundings and of the events earlier in the day. He began muttering to himself, "Absolutely ridiculous, their treatment, the icebreaker, everything...ridiculous. You'd think they have never been through negotiations, because they certainly don't know how to negotiate."

Bearugard stopped his mindless rambling as he thought he heard faint whispering. "Sounds like it's coming from Hyarmenwe's room." he said to himself. What he thought sounded like Angaewen's voice, he made out the words, "Lord, I accept."

Then the talking stopped, he heard a door open, then close, and footsteps came approaching to his door. Bearugard quickly sat at his desk and straightened himself up. Before there was a knock, he said "The door's open." There was a pause, as if it took a while for the Gondorians on the other side to comprehend. The door opened and first stepped in Hyarmenwe followed by Angaewen.

"Just what is it you accepted, Lady Angaewen," Bearugard smirked.

Rather appalled Angaewen said "You were eavesdropping on our conversation?"

Of course, Bearugard only heard that one part, but he continued to play along.
"You know you should also practice lowering your voices, these walls here are super-ultra-mega thin. You don't know what unfriendly ears may be listening."

His smirk went away as a strange silence entered the room and Hyarmenwe and Angaewen simply stared at him. Breaking the silence, Bearugard got up from his seat, and began to pace around the room again, he now spoke in a hushed tone, "Well, since we are all Gondorians here, I guess I need to get this off my chest, as I'm sure I'm not the only one. Today's activities were exceedingly strange, you know what I speak of. There's no doubt in my mind it was a ploy to try to get information out of us. Whilst the Mordorians threw around their musings and lies, we were forced into an uncomfortable situation in hopes that one of us would break. I need not say that I did not fall to such obvious tricks. My outburst was to not get anyone to spill the beans, or give any useful information, to these Mordorians. Now it seems like she will take us individually to try to break us. But we must hold together, after all - in this place - I am all you have and you are all I have."

[JennyHallu]

Ms. Martinet had remained silent through the dwarf's offer of help and Malfoidacil's declamation. Everything that man says is a declamation, though. He's almost as bad as Hyarmanwe.

"I wonder..." she mused aloud. Alli turned toward her curiously. "Roggie hates me, we all know this. But..."

"But what?"

"I wonder if Lola would help. He likes Lola. Everybody likes Lola."

Alli looked at her in disbelief. "You want Lola to do it?"

Ms. Martinet shrugged. "It might work. I haven't got a chance, you know that."

"But then you won't be around to help me."

Ms. Martinet shrugged, a small smile playing on her thinly pursed lips. "I daresay, the way these negotiations are going, that Lola's skills might be more use after all."

"If you're sure...," Alli said.

"Of course I am. I'll go...um...get her. Give me an hour or so." Ms. Martinet stalked out of the room, heading purposefully down the hall.

Malfoidacil cleared his throat. "Lola?"

"Mmm-hmm." Alli seemed amused by something.

"Who is that? And will Ms. Martinet be back soon; I'd like to get this over with."

"She's a friend of mine. Quite a character. And no, Ms. Martinet will not be back."

"Does she not like this Lola?"

Alli grinned. "I'm not sure if she likes Lola or not...but the two are never together. Their personalities are...hmm...'mutually exclusive' is the best I can do."

[Formendacil]

Hyarmenwë had returned to his room in an ill mood. The "icebreaker" had been pointless, the negotiations had not even started, and now they were cut off pre-emptively. He was also ever so slightly afraid that Mardil would abandon the diplomats to the tender mercies of Mordor, if the negotiations were not reopened. And such a life held nothing but horror for him.

There was a knock on his door.

"Come in," he intoned, straigtening in his seat. The Lady Angawen entered. He hailed her politely.

She addressed him in Quenya. He replied in Westron. There was a brief discussion about the appropriateness of the High Tongue. He ended agreeing that it was appropriate. Then they got down to the real reason Angawen was there.

"Why, Hyarmanwë, do you believe you were sent on this assignment?"

"I am a great statesman and most loyal to the Kingdom," he answered without a second thought- or so it appeared to Angawen. It was not entirely true. There was still the nagging fear that he had been sent to Mordor to get him out from under Mardil's feet. His loyalties to the old King were well known indeed.

Angawen asked him what he thought about the inclusion of herself, Bearugard, and Malfoidacil in the party.

"I do not claim to understand the mind of our - Lord - Mardil," he had replied politely enough. In truth, though, if Mardil had sent him to Mordor in hopes of being rid of him, then the same held true for Angawen. She could also be a dangerous opponent. As for Bearugard, he was a useless twit, and Hyarmenwë couldn't blame Mardil if it was the case that he wanted to be rid of him. And then there was Malfoidacil. Hyarmenwë didn't trust him. He seemed, at first, to be merely a spoiled, arrogant child, not unlike Bearugard. But since arriving in Mordor, another facet of Malfoidacil had started showing through. Hyarmenwë was sure that he didn't like it.

It appeared that Angawen had the same feelings. Though Hyarmenwë did his best to present a balanced, and possibly sympathetic view of Malfoidacil, for the sake of argument, he was admittedly in agreement with her. One argument in particular struck him:

"He knows Lady Alli. They are old friends from this land - this land whence he came. I shall be blunt, Hyarmanwë. I do not trust him."

While still attempting to maintain a balanced disposition, the thought occured to him: Malfoidacil holds dual citizenship. To which realm does his loyalty truly lie? It was a forboding thought.

And so conversation turned to Bearugard. Angawen trusted his abilities not at all. Hyarmenwë wasn't so sure that he did, either, but he did think there was a bit more depth to the man than appeared on first sight. Surely, with a father such as his, there must be a man of great power somewhere inside him. On the face of it, though, Hyarmenwë doubted it.

What a life it was, he pondered, surrounded here in a dangerous land by people on whom he ought to be able to depend, yet not one of the three could he rely on. Not Malfoidacil, not Bearugard, and not Angawen. Even as he pondered though, Angawen proposed an alliance. He agreed -on one condition- that Bearugard be included.

Angawen was not pleased with this, but she accepted it. It appeared that her main concern was with Malfoidacil. And Hyarmenwë agreed. Indeed, that was why he proposed Bearugard's inclusion. Until such time as any of them were found wanting, the three Gondorians who were at a loss in Mordor should stick together. Bearugard, though an insipid fool, was their natural ally, and ought to be cultivated, lest they lose him altogether. And allies in Mordor would be few and far between.

"Lord, I accept."

The deal made, Hyarmenwë and Angawen departed his room to seek out their-partner to be. He was not hard to find. He was in his room, and appeared to have an inkling of what they were up to. Whatever the case, there he stood, and he was as self-centred an idiot as ever.

"Well, since we are all Gondorians here, I guess I need to get this off my chest, as I'm sure I'm not the only one. Today's activities were exceedingly strange, you know what I speak of. There's no doubt in my mind it was a ploy to try to get information out of us. Whilst the Mordorians threw around their musings and lies, we were forced into an uncomfortable situation in hopes that one of us would break. I need not say that I did not fall to such obvious tricks. My outburst was to not get anyone to spill the beans, or give any useful information, to these Mordorians. Now it seems like she will take us individually to try to break us. But we must hold together, after all - in this place - I am all you have and you are all I have."

"I think you and the Lady Angawen alike have taken a touch too much offence to the proceedings thus far," Hyarmenwë said, raising a hand and taking a seat at the table. When Angawen sat also, the two chairs belonging to it were taken, and only a rather bare-looking footstool remained. Bearugard sniffed at it disdainfully, and refused it. Hyarmenwë ignored him and continued.

"Certainly, they were highly irregular, and without a point other than to set us ill at ease, but to respond to them in the manner in which you did was rather foolish. To let them know that they were getting to you was inadvisable. It signalled to them that they hold the upper hand, and it suggests that we are easily upset- and so easily manipulated. A diplomat must never appear manipulable." Hyarmenwë was looking not so much at Bearugard as at Angawen.

"All right," she admitted. "Letting loose a volley of fury wasn't the best way to act, but it did clarify one thing immediately: we are not dealing with easily manipulable amateurs either, as might have been suspected seeing how we ARE in Mordor, after all. But it should also be quite clear, to both of you, that I have my limits on how far I can be pushed and nobody, including Mardil himself, can push me over them without a fight."

"Quite," said Bearugard sniffily. "One has one's limits."

"One has to bend with the wind, at times," said Hyarmenwë with a half-frown. "And on that note, one has to wonder what will happen if the negotiations do remain stalled. How many of us would Mardil truly mourn to lose in Mordor? If it cost him concessions to Roggie, would he attempt to extradite us?"

"My dear Hyarmenwë," said Bearugard haughtily. "In my case, he could simply not afford not to."

"I think you underestimate Mardil," said Angawen. "He would not willingly waste talent such as ours-" something in the way Angawen said it suggested that she meant just herself and Hyarmenwë- "but you have a point. But there's nothing we can do about it until we know one way or another if the negotiations are still on. The big issue right now is Malfoidacil. The boy is a dual citizen. What is to stop him from siding with the Mordorians in the negotiations? And I've seen no indications that he feels any particular loyalty to any of us- or to Mardil. That boy looks out for himself."

"He has a certain appreciation for noble blood," noted Bearugard. "A commendable taste, if you ask me."

"His appreciation for noble blood won't get him to help us, not if it's not in Malfoidacil's best interests," pressed on Angawen. "What we need is some leverage- something that we can use to control him. I don't suppose you have any ideas?"

"The Malfoidacils have played both sides of every political game in Gondor for their own advantage for years," said Hyarmenwë. "If we could dig up some dirt on him here in Mordor, it might be possible, but there's nothing from Gondor that will easily control him. And I don't forsee us being able to to do much digging, confined to the palace and endangered by the anakronisms as we are."

"He's very well connected too," said Bearugard. "Related to many of the best families in Gondor. I believe he's a distant cousin on my mother's father's side of the family."

"There must be something!" Angawen pressed on. "If we can't rely on him in council, then we've no way of knowing if we can hope to accomplish Lord Mardil's aims. And, as Hyarmenwë has already said, we need to present a strong front. Holding the negotiations in Mordor might have been all very well from Mardil's point of view, but it puts us at a disadvantage."

"I wonder..." Hyarmenwë mused. "What tales of his son, if spread abroad in the right circles in Minas Tirith, would scandalize Lord Luciamir the most?"

[Diamond18]

"I would not normally deign to speak with a mere mudblood King of Mordor..."

These words brought Skittles back from a contented state, swaying majestically above a bird filled meadow. One of the birds, a pale little thing that sounded more like a blue jay than a songbird, spoke ill of King Roggie, and Tree-Skittles let out an angry:

"Haroom! A Mudblood! The King of Mordor is a Balrog, you milky little sop! A Maia, you skinny twaddle headed pie-faced pookabunny! How dare you label him as anything less than the magnificent specimen of magical beastliness that he is!?"

In Entish.

Since it takes a very long time to say anything in Entish, while she was working up this indignant schpeil an entire conversation and a half had taken place. And everyone just thought she was muttering to herself.

Suddenly, she turned on her heel and headed for the door.

"Now where are you going?" asked Ms. Martinet.

"I must change my clothes!" responded Skittles, in high dudgeon. "This calls for leather!"

[Kath]

Igör had wandered off after being dismissed. He was still smarting a little from the comments made in the negotiation room but as he thought of them he recalled Skittles’ accidental relieving of the tension and couldn’t help but smile. He was glad she was involved in this, if anything would confuse and bewilder the Gondorians enough to persuade them to sort things out she would.

Speak of the devil, Igör thought to himself as he walked past Hyarmenwë’s quarters. Angawen’s guards were outside it, and Igör wondered just what she was so afraid of that she needed them to accompany her everywhere. He caught a small portion of their conversation as he walked past. Though his ears did not match, both had excellent hearing, and while he did not mean to eavesdrop it was sometimes simply impossible not to. Fortunate enough to be skilled in the Elven languages Igör understood their words, though he despaired at their formal tone. How did they ever get a point across when it had to be buried under layers of compliments, hastily backtracked insults and general wordiness? But, it seemed that there was dissention within the opposition’s ranks. Igör smiled to himself, making a mental note to inform Alli of this next time he saw her, though he thought it likely that she would already know. Her spy network was one of if not the best, and she was probably listening to this conversation as it occurred.

He continued on down the corridor with his awkward limp still in place, feeling the eyes of Angawen’s guards following him. His ears picked up their whispered conversation about how odd he looked and grinned. He didn’t mind the insults when he was putting his little act on. Suddenly though the guards stopped talking and there was a slight commotion behind him. Turning he saw various Gondorians entering the others rooms, with what sounded like a lot of anger and consternation. By the time he had thought up a reasonable excuse for walking back past the rooms again however (by removing an eye and rolling it down the corridor, to the disgust of the guards) there seemed to be agreement within. Troubled now, Igör decided to share his recent findings with Alli as soon as possible.

Returning to the negotiation room he knocked before entering, knowing his ability to move without noise sometimes gave people such a scare they were unable to do anything but gape like a fish for quite a long time after, which would probably not be helpful at this point in time, especially when there was already someone behaving as a tree in the room. Just as he thought this Skittles desisted from that activity and raced past his, yelling something about needing to change her clothes.

Leaving her to her madness Igör moved toward Alli, and motioned her to one side. Malfoidacil was still in the room and it would not be wise to let him know what the other Gondorians thought of him. Alli joined him over away from the others and listened to what Igör told her with an expression ever he couldn’t read. Finishing his story, Igör waited to hear whether this was useful information, and whether she wished him to do anything with or about it.

[Lhunardawen]

Maika was quite disappointed that Alli had to arrive and ruin all the fun. It was not a regular occurence to have fun with Gondorians - probably because this was the first time she ever met at least one - and she wanted to enjoy this icebreaker as much as she can. But looking at the Spymaster's face she could tell something was up. Yep, something was definitely up.

She patiently waited for Skittles, Ms. Martinet, and the young Gondorian to have their say in this new assignment, seemingly weighing their words with care. But as they talked and juggled knives and talked more and acted like a tree, Maika's thoughts were still on Hyarmenwë's three statements. Particularly on the "three daughters" part. For some unexplainable reason her heart raced when she heard that, and she tried to hide it through participation. And she got the lie right. Hmm. Maika instantly snapped back to the conversation around her.

As Skittles sped off for leather, Maika took her turn to respond to Alli. "I'm sure my skin will be reacting violently against this in no time, but I'll do it. At least I'll do what I can. For Mordor."

For Mordor? Somehow it didn't quite sound right to her. She shrugged it off.

"But one favor, please. Will you tell him to have his broken airconditioning system repaired?"

Maika had barely picked up Alli's response - if she had responded at all - when she raised a hand to excuse herself and walked towards a concerned-looking Igör. Maika sighed. For her sake, or her skin's rather, she hoped it could be done.

[Anguirel]

Dracomir had been irritated by Alli's obvious evasiveness on the identity of Lola, and was inwardly absolutely livid when the misshapen Igor took the Lady Spymaster aside to give her information in a manner which was quite obviously designed to exclude him. He was currently isolated from his fellow-diplomats, without being in the slightest particle trusted by Alli, despite all they had been through. He had hoped, apart from anything else, to have a friendly conversation catching up on events since Dol Gaurgauroth...

He knew, however, that the only hope of coming closer to success in his vital task was keeping his emotions untrackable, and so he smiled and cleared his mind, though not without a mental curse at Aunt Bellatrix-why couldn't she have taught him Legilimency as well as this Occlumency rubbish...?

Dracomir now found himself alone with the Mordorian diplomat Maika. Perhaps he could cultivate some kind of friendship here that would prove useful in the long term.

"You seem worried about your fair complexion in the presence of the boorish King Roggie," he sallied. "As you can see, I suffer from a similar problem. It's a clear sign of nobility of blood. I often find a Disillusionment Charm can help lessen the effect of exposure...would you allow me to help?"

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Alli had listened to Igör gleefully. Though negotiations were in a bit of a rut (she chastised herself for the understatement), she trusted in her people's abilities to restart them... at least eventually. And when they did, knowing that the Gondorian officials didn't like each other or trust each other... Ooh, she was excited. Igör had no idea and awaited a response to show through Alli's cool eyes, or at least for her dark red lips to slip softly into a deadly smile. Alli shot a glance at Malfoidacil, drawing his wand in the direction of Maika, before answering quickly in a soft tone revealing nothing.

"Igör, if you can find out more without them knowing it, feel free. Thank you for telling me this; it is helpful."

Dismissed, Igör left, presumably to roll a body part or two through the Gondorian suites.

Alli returned to Maika and Malfoidacil after a moment of thought. Skittles in leather... oh my. Lola was coming... that should be a treat. And dissention in the ranks... Alli couldn't help but wonder why Mardil had chosen these particular ambassadors, most especially Bearugard. Alli remembered him from before she was assigned... he was one of the worst nobles, she'd thought, with no care for the lives of those beneath him. Alli had spent her life quietly loathing monarchies for their continued oppression of the proletariat. Now she worked for one, yet she did not dislike it. Roggie's power structure cared nothing for nobility and though Gondorians might think it due to the distinct lack of nobility in most of Mordor (why, Alli had often wondered, were there so few? Surely the hadn't been immune from Anakronisms...), it was not. Before Roggie, Khamul had quietly run the country through the mafia; no nobles. Now Roggie had advisors specially chosen meritocratically, not for their blood.

"Malfoidacil, please refrain from casting spells upon my workers, no matter how clever you find your charm work to be. Maika, I will speak to Buildings and Grounds workers about it. More likely will be that we'll merely have to open a window. If you like, I have skin cream that works wonders, and it is not even from Panakeia."

Maika stared blankly at Alli over the joke, but her eyes brightened some around the edges, knowing well stories of last year's escape. She'd seen it all on reality television and knew that Panakeia once profited from the sales of really, truly bad makeup products.

"If you will please wait for Lola to arrive and for Skittles to return, Lola will surely guide you all to Roggie's audience chamber wherein he is currently lurking in a foul mood. He will refuse to see you... ignore him on my orders. Pound upon the door until it opens.

"Tom..." Malfoidacil looked up quickly. "If you have time later tonight... it has been a long time. Share stories over drinks? You'll be pleased to learn that I'm fresh out of veritaserum... We'll be stuck with fruit juice, I'm afraid. What say you?"

Without waiting for response, Alli grinned and left, shooting the words "I'll be in my office." over her right shoulder.