SPIES CHECK IN. For adoralies

[wolfmansgotyou]

[Fenrir is lounging in this throne made of human bones, one leg dangling off the arm rest, reading the Daily Prophet.]

Nothing 'bout me yet! Pah! C'mon, ickle Anita, I know yeh have it in you...

[But for now he's just going to flip the page, fart loudly, and start singing along with the tattered old boombox he keeps nearby. Right now it's Queen's

Comments

[adoralies]

In her defence, I think you broke her. *She's just going to turn it down, now. Important discussions are important*

[wolfmansgotyou]

[Without looking up, he shoots out his arm and seizes her wrist before she can touch the boombox. He starts to twist it, not enough to hurt, but close.]

Did I say yeh could touch that?

[adoralies]

*There's always an adjustment period, coming back to the cult pack*

No.

Sorry.

[wolfmansgotyou]

[He holds her like that until he finishes out the end of the song. Then he releases her and turns off the boombox himself. Then he tosses aside the newspaper and sits up.]

Now! Where were we? Ahhh, yes. Come sit at Uncle Fenrir's feet, lovey.

[He gestures to the dirt floor by his bare and yellow toe-nailed feet.]