*Frank, unnerved by the setup on a level that runs just under his skin, instinctively takes a couch because a chair would mean sitting awkwardly far from Alice, which makes him weirdly uncomfortable just now. It's not as though they're under any threat, obviously, but the whole thing - to say nothing of the fact they've been spying on Crouch's operations for months for the Order - has him strung tight.
Still, you can't be a good Auror without being a good liar, and Frank manages to clip on a smile that's just on the safe side of cheeky.*
*For every carefully calculated smile Crouch Sr. has in his arsenal there are two less savoury looks waiting in the wings behind it. Politician or no, there is more honesty to be gained in watching a Crouch's expression than by reading their diary. Right now, it's pretty clear that if the Minister could tolerate the colloquialism 'duh', now would be the time to employ it.*
That's to be expected, I'm confident everyone in this room has at least a rudimentary idea of the aging cycle.
However, referring to these occasions specifically I believe the question still stands: what does happen to the baby? I don't expect either of you have much time to be a stay at home parental figure, as it were.
*No sense of humor whatsoever, and that was even a decent joke. Won't this just be a delightful evening.
Resisting the urge to give Alice a 'can you believe this bloke' look, Frank clears his throat and tries not to fidget.*
Ah. Neville stays with my mum, or Alice's dad. Mum's a terror but she loves kids, it works out okay.
*And they can't very well genuinely ask after Crouch's kid, who is, for one, off doing Voldemort's bidding, for another, inexplicably not around, and for another, completely barmy.
*Though spick and span and certainly a prosperous property, on closer inspection the house is anything but lovely. Empty picture frames, some clearly picked out with a woman's touch and all left over from a previous life, sit evenly on the modest mantle without any photographs to display. It seems removing reminders of his failed family was the last chore Crouch Sr. had done, too. A very thin layer of dust has begun to form in the upper portion of the room, while the chairs and anything within reach of a dutiful house elf is sparklingly clean and fresh.
Crouch Sr., however, doesn't appear to find anything wrong with any of this, and actually seems very interested and invested in Frank's answer. He nods in clinical appreciation at the forced compliment, and continues to be uncomfortably personal
( ... )
Comments 8
Still, you can't be a good Auror without being a good liar, and Frank manages to clip on a smile that's just on the safe side of cheeky.*
Grows up, eventually, I suppose.
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That's to be expected, I'm confident everyone in this room has at least a rudimentary idea of the aging cycle.
However, referring to these occasions specifically I believe the question still stands: what does happen to the baby? I don't expect either of you have much time to be a stay at home parental figure, as it were.
Reply
Resisting the urge to give Alice a 'can you believe this bloke' look, Frank clears his throat and tries not to fidget.*
Ah. Neville stays with my mum, or Alice's dad. Mum's a terror but she loves kids, it works out okay.
*And they can't very well genuinely ask after Crouch's kid, who is, for one, off doing Voldemort's bidding, for another, inexplicably not around, and for another, completely barmy.
Really. Just delightful.*
So, your - home. Lovely, sir.
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Crouch Sr., however, doesn't appear to find anything wrong with any of this, and actually seems very interested and invested in Frank's answer. He nods in clinical appreciation at the forced compliment, and continues to be uncomfortably personal ( ... )
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