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Post by Owen Walsh on Nov 3, 2012 16:45:35 GMT -6
Owen unlocked the door to his office and tossed his coat on an empty chair -- his lab-mate Laura had been home ill for the past few days, which was perfectly fine by Owen, as it meant he didn't have to make small talk or bathe himself in hand sanitizer every time she coughed -- before propping the door open with a small block. He rubbed his face and narrowly avoided the sight of his reflection in the window. Owen's eyes were red, his skin pale (well, paler than normal).
He'd given up his lunch break to go see his father, which only grew more difficult with every visit. The naturally wiry, skeletal man had become even more so, his formally terrifying intensity replaced with a sort of hollow blankness. Worst of all, Owen seemed to be the only person left who cared.
Owen cracked open a laptop to continue working on his current paper, but quickly grew frustrated and slammed the machine down on the desk with a bit too much force.
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Michael Lehrer
Pupil
An Angel who did not so much Fall as Saunter Vaguely Downwards
Posts: 55
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Post by Michael Lehrer on Nov 3, 2012 18:39:41 GMT -6
((ooc: I don't know where I'm even going with this but that's good for me I guess - keep it loose and go with the flow etc. etc. haha. Maybe Owen can work out in this scene that Michael is a Legilimens, finally piecing it together because it's always bugged him how the guy just seems to know stuff? Owen knowing that and about Shannon and Michael's little fling and Michael ratting out Aaron would be pretty damn good leverage for the guy methinks!))
There had been a string of new poisons floating around – the Auror department had been investigating, he knew, and they were worried. They hadn’t managed to find anything out, they’d hit a brick wall with the investigating but it was only a matter of time before someone inadvertently stumbled over the truth. Michael knew Owen was behind this new batch of poisons, it was clear from the young Mr Walsh’s particular research interests that he had been their creator but only someone looking for such a connection between the two would find it. Really, Owen just seemed like the son desperately trying to shake off his father’s infamy whilst making his own way in the high society world. And there was some part of Michael that felt sorry for him – it must be terrible to be constantly defined by, and reminded of, what crimes your father had committed – and it was this which led him to Owen’s office that day. He merely intended to warn the boy, without giving too much away about his own situation with the Deatheaters, not to get too cosy with certain associates he’d been meeting with thanks to a particular Harry Armitage. Really he just didn’t want to see Shannon’s sons follow the same path as their father. Hypocritical of him? Most definitely. Difference was, he felt he would never be caught out, no one suspected him of any wrongdoing and if anyone did… well they were silenced pretty easily.
Halting on the threshold of Owen’s office he silently observed the other male working on his laptop before he cleared his throat to indicate his presence when the boy slammed it down onto the desk in a clear show of frustration. “Stressful day?” Michael spoke up enquiringly as his presence was acknowledged and with that direct eye contact he deftly probed Owen’s mind, finding the swirling thoughts regarding his father’s imprisonment without too much trouble at all. “I take it from your manner that you’ve been to visit your father lately? You appear to be the only one who still cares, if you don’t mind me saying,” he continued coolly, walking further into the room without exactly being invited to do so, and brushing a non-existent speck of dust from his immaculate suit jacket as a show of casual nonchalance about the whole situation.
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Post by Owen Walsh on Nov 3, 2012 22:39:49 GMT -6
Owen jumped in his chair. Not this guy, he thought, eyes rolling unconsciously before he took a deep breath and spun himself around to face Michael. "Something like that," he responded politely, but coldly. He was never supposed to let himself have... emotional outbursts like that. It was humiliating.
He then frowned suspiciously, taking a few moments before answering. Michael had this infuriating habit of gleaning exactly whatever one was currently fixated on, seemingly out of thin air, and constructing some perfectly-timed commentary to go along with it. It was like this irritating omniscient narration that no one asked for. It was entirely possible Owen was just paranoid -- he was letting his anxiety get away from him. All the same, 'hey, so it looks like you just saw your murderer father in prison' was an eerily specific deduction that would be considered a leap for even the least plausible of TV detectives.
Just in case, Owen figured he should probably avoid having particularly strong thoughts about Helena. Unless trying not to think about her would make him think about her. Oh Lord, bear him strength.
"Yes, well. I assume you've been too busy?" Owen asked without any change in tone, like he was asking whether Michael was too busy to walk the dog or take out the recycling. He wasn't one to really lay into the bitterness the way his mum or brother would, the way they'd stop and stare at a person to make sure the sneer had hit its mark. "May I help you with something? Don't touch that," he added quickly, even though it didn't look like Michael was about to touch anything. The thought of even a stray elbow advecting air molecules in the vicinity of his precious equipment was unconscionable.
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Michael Lehrer
Pupil
An Angel who did not so much Fall as Saunter Vaguely Downwards
Posts: 55
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Post by Michael Lehrer on Nov 4, 2012 6:23:18 GMT -6
It wasn’t difficult to skim the first layers of the part of the brain that dealt with the here and now thoughts – memory probing required more concentration but accessing the thoughts as they drifted through his head had become Michael’s particular forte. So he detected immediately the overwhelming sense of dislike for himself that the boy now felt. Charming. “You mustn’t let the stress get to you like that,” he replied with a dry sniff as he did a quick glance around at the boy’s office.
Sensing Owen’s paranoia Michael continued smoothly, “Call me Sherlock Holmes if you will… I’m merely observing that you have that same harried look quite regularly, almost as if you regularly put yourself through some kind of emotional turmoil. It’s not a stretch to connect it to your father’s imprisonment in some way or the other,” he pointed out. It was almost, almost believable – if he was indeed in possession of incredible powers of observation and Holmesian reasoning skills, deducing that there was a particular kind of mud on his shoes which was only found around the outskirts of Azkaban or his coat, flung over a chair, still held the scent of mustiness and utter despair that engulfed the prison.
Catching the slight dig sent his way (though not nearly as deliciously snarky as such a remark would have been coming from Shannon’s mouth) he let out a soft snort of incredulity. “Too busy to visit your father who betrayed his family, friends and any semblance of morality? Yes, quite,” he retorted easily, not allowing Owen the satisfaction of seeing him flinch guiltily at the accusation as his face was obscured momentarily as he had turned away from the boy in the pretence of closing the office door behind him, crouching to remove the block which wedged it open. Letting it swing closed with an ominous slam, the man straightened once more, “I’m afraid I’m here on… delicate business, shall we say,” he explained, an amused smirk emerging despite everything when Owen seemed anxious for him to not touch anything. “I assure you I’m not planning on destroying any precious belongings. Now, I do need to speak with you regarding your research actually… would you mind terribly if I sat down? We can at least pretend to be civil and amiable, no?” he proposed.
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Post by Owen Walsh on Nov 4, 2012 10:01:45 GMT -6
"I... didn't say anything," Owen spoke slowly in response to Michael's rather suspect defense of his observation. He wasn't about to call the man out on it -- at least not until he had some more solid evidence -- lest he look like a raving maniac.
Owen shrugged. "Oh, right, I always forget. You had no idea. Ought to have put some of those famous 'deductive skills' to use, eh?" He wasn't an idiot. He didn't believe for a second that Michael and his father were never in league together, but if this was the story the man insisted on sticking to, fine. He'd play along for the time being.
His eyes widened slightly as the door slammed behind Michael. Owen was accustomed to hiding his fears and insecurity behind a blank, emotionless front -- for years he'd done it in front of his father, a man who could sniff out weakness in even his most stoic of enemies. So he continued to stare blankly ahead and steel himself to his chair, ignoring the intense heart-pounding that seemed to resonate through his entire body and the feeling that he may throw up at any second.
Owen glanced up at Michael expectantly. "Out with it, then. You don't have to take me on a date first. You can have Laura's chair, I think she may be perishing of plague."
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Michael Lehrer
Pupil
An Angel who did not so much Fall as Saunter Vaguely Downwards
Posts: 55
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Post by Michael Lehrer on Nov 4, 2012 10:33:53 GMT -6
“Quite. But your face did,” Michael countered simply – the boy had looked rather suspiciously at Michael, to be fair, so it was more as though the Legilimency proved what he already suspected. It was his turn to narrow his eyes however as the boy talked of his ignorance of Aaron’s Deatheater activity. “I can categorically state I was not aware of the extent of Aaron Walsh’s involvement with the Deatheaters, it was only after his imprisonment that I truly took the time to reflect upon our acquaintance and I can only hang my head in shame that I did not recognise any warning signs in his behaviour,” he proclaimed, as he had stated verbatim time and time again, “You’ve never believed that, have you?” he asked curiously with a funny sort of smile at this.
Inclining his head in gratitude he pulled up Laura’s chair across from Owen at the desk and took his time, opening his mouth many times to begin before deciding on a different tack. Finally, crossing one ankle over his knee, he sat back comfortably and admitted fairly bluntly, “I know of your involvement with, hmmm what shall we call them… inappropriate individuals? I know you’re behind the particularly prevalent strain of poisons that has been baffling the Auror department to no end as of late, it matches up with your research interests perfectly. Frankly, I’m astounded no one else has realised this yet. And, if I may… I strongly advise you to get out, while you still can, to cut off associations with the likes of MacIntyre who I can only assume is your contact since this whole thing reeks of her mark. It won’t be long before the thick skulls of the Auror department accidentally stumble over your dealings with her and then… oh dear… another Walsh in trouble,” Michael predicted with an ‘oops’ face, biting his lip in a show of worry, before his expression softened. “I assume you have some kind of self-preservation instinct, yes? In that case, seriously, get yourself out of this mess Owen, before what I know starts slipping out accidentally,” he warned, hoping that the threat of turning the boy in, and the obvious public outing that it would inevitably lead to, would make him cease with his dealings entirely.
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Post by Owen Walsh on Nov 4, 2012 15:44:49 GMT -6
"The truth generally does not require a rehearsed answer," Owen stated calmly. He may have lacked Michael's charm or polish, but he was no stranger to the idea of a carefully crafted persona.
Owen sat up straight in his chair to give his very nonthreatening size and stature the slightest boost as he stared at Michael, expressionless. Weirdly -- and he wasn't anticipating this feeling, by any means -- he experienced an odd surge of pride, of the recognition he craved so deeply and sorely lacked these days. It gave him a brief shot of confidence despite Michael's threat. "Just try to prove it," he said finally. "By the way, having an affair with my mother doesn't actually give you any say over my life."
He was on a roll, now. He unclenched his hands from his chair, and though they were still shaking slightly, he laced his fingers together and rested his hands on the desk. "I suppose you won't mind everyone knowing you're a Legilimens, then." He'd meant to hold on to that particular suspicion, but he was new at this whole... business and had apparently been taken over by some sort of insane and extraordinarily foolish adrenaline reaction. Perhaps he had more in common with his little brother than he realized. "Granted, I can't prove that either. But I have to assume people would be more careful, and I'd hate to take away your all-access pass to people's memories and feelings."
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Michael Lehrer
Pupil
An Angel who did not so much Fall as Saunter Vaguely Downwards
Posts: 55
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Post by Michael Lehrer on Nov 4, 2012 17:13:05 GMT -6
“I’m a politician, I’m afraid it’s a side effect of the job that we’re well used to rehearsing answers. But I have repeated that particular answer many times over the years, to more senior figures than yourself, and they have found no reason to doubt me,” Michael argued coolly, the corners of his lips twitching into a smile as the boy appeared just as calm as he did in that present moment. Well, well, it seems he had rather underestimated Owen’s composure.
Raising an eyebrow and staring Owen out for a moment he then let out a dark chuckle, “Try to prove it? Oh, Owen, Owen, do you really think I’d be stupid enough to walk in here and accuse you of such a thing if I didn’t already have proof?” he proposed. The chuckle faded, however, as the boy mentioned his mother. Eyeing him for a moment he snorted softly and shook his head somewhat, “Would you call it an affair? I’m not sure she would and she really ought to have some kind of say in the matter, don’t you think? I’m fairly certain Shannon would deny such a thing until her grave. Besides which… I do not consider myself as worthy of having a say in any part of her life let alone her children’s so I’m not trying to dictate your life plans to you, no, that’s not it at all. I’m trying to save you from embarrassing the family with yet more scandal. This was meant to be a friendly warning and if I have not conveyed that then, well, my apologies,” he shrugged easily.
“Hmmm?” he asked, knotting his brow into an expression of confusion, as his gaze flickered down to where the boy had laced his fingers together in some kind of show of confidence and mastery over the conversation now. “That is a very, very dangerous accusation to make, Mr Walsh. And what, may I ask, would lead you to jump to such a conclusion? Being able to read people’s manner and tone is hardly Legilimency, I think. It’s an odd thing to say… considering we are alone and I am assuming you have not voiced these suspicions to anyone else, yet,” Michael considered aloud, then leaning forward onto Owen’s desk and meeting the boy’s gaze steadily, “Perhaps a good Legilimens would seize this opportunity to manipulate your mind, your memories perhaps, ensure you didn’t voice such disgraceful accusations to anyone else. If I were in possession of such abilities, I think that is what I would be considering at this present moment.” He would never, ever admit his Legilimency ability to anyone and he had a poker face no one would dare challenge or call out – until Owen came along, it seemed.
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Post by Owen Walsh on Nov 5, 2012 21:30:06 GMT -6
"Well, I'm a researcher. It's my job to debunk bullshit." He adjusted his glasses as an excuse to avoid direct eye contact with Michael.
"I assure you I am incredibly careful, Mr Lehrer." He rolled his eyes, very visibly now. "I do not know how many 'friendly warnings' you've given in your life, but that went out the window when you started laying down threats, sir. What, you think I'll do what you say and trust you not to try anything? That is not going to work for me," Owen spoke, carefully containing the anger that threatened to boil up inside of him. A good Freudian would probably jump at the chance to connect this misplaced anger to Owen's father, a man who spent years controlling his sons (or perhaps it was 'son', singular) by fear and intimidation. Owen would like to kindly point out that he just really, really did not like Michael.
Owen was never taught Occlumency aside from what he'd read in books, but he knew it was possible, so he attempted to shut down his mind completely -- of course, for Owen, this was an almost guaranteed failure that only resulted in new, worse thoughts pounding in his head. He could only pray for the slight chance that his OCD would at least gum up the works at bit.
"Sure, a good one might," he spoke up, his voice cracking slightly. "Perhaps if he were working against someone who didn't know he was a Legilimens, or someone who wore his heart on his sleeve rather than repressing things his whole life. He might make me forget this conversation, which as far as I'm concerned is preferable. Of course, he wouldn't know when I started having these suspicions, and if he wants to dig through ugly adolescent memories, he's far more of a masochist than I ever suspected. The brain is a complicated and many-layered vessel, sir. Would he ever truly know those thoughts were gone?" Owen was fully bluffing, now. He felt shattered on the inside and hadn't prepared for this at all. He already dug his grave, what did he have left to lose?
He suddenly realized that he'd been holding his breath, and had to put his face in his hands for a second. "I'm... I'm not an idiot. I know more than you'd like to think. And I don't think you want to destroy my life for no reason... all I want is some -- what was your word, 'friendly'? -- mutually assured destruction," he offered, as if this were a perfectly casual request.
(ooc: Totally up to you if you want Owen to know that Michael turned his dad in!)
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Michael Lehrer
Pupil
An Angel who did not so much Fall as Saunter Vaguely Downwards
Posts: 55
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Post by Michael Lehrer on Nov 6, 2012 13:41:13 GMT -6
Michael couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh, shaking his head, at Owen’s words, “Quite, quite. I am the purveyor of, I’d like to think diplomatic, bullshit, you are the debunker.” Then, knitting his fingers together casually he shrugged, “I assure you, you are not nearly as careful about your work as you think. Not for people who truly know where to look, or should I say who to… ask would be the friendly term I suppose.” Rolling his eyes as though he found Owen’s show of angry resilience to be somehow tiresome he continued, “I’d contain your irritation if I were you, Mr Walsh. Oh and I’d kindly ask you to cease displacing years of resentment onto me… you’ve just been visiting the individual to whom it truly belongs after all. And that conclusion is merely me playing amateur shrink, not Legilimency I assure you.”
“That would be a low blow, if I were a Legilimens,” he clarified calmly, pretending to dust away a speck from his jacket sleeve as he considered the boy’s words. He was certain of a bluff – he was fairly confident that Owen, while he talked a good game, didn’t actually know Occlumency well enough to stop him, if he wanted to manipulate his mind. “Repressing things, true, true… that would make it more difficult, but not impossible I feel. I trust you’d also prefer if I didn’t have to wade through thoughts about Helena Armitage to get to it? Which, to be frank, I’d rather not probe either,” Michael’s lip twitched into a slight smirk of amusement at this before he sobered once more.
Raising an eyebrow carefully as Owen’s face dropping into his hands – was he really so defeatist? – before nodding along, “Mmm, I know you are not an idiot. Could an idiot create such a… brilliantly ingenious poison? I think not. But you may be right… I don’t wish to destroy you, I’d rather not have that on my conscience, thank you very much, which is why I’d prefer it if you took my advice and bowed out graciously,” he reasoned, “I think, for the sake of your family, you should take this option. Do you really want another headline-grabbing case in the family?” Then, with a soft sigh he relented somewhat – the cause of which, he couldn’t be certain. Part of him just didn’t want to completely destroy Shannon’s son, as unpleasant as that thought was to comprehend given its implications. “Fine. Mutually assured destruction seems to work as a nuclear deterrent, let us try the method and see how it truly ends, shall we? But just so we are clear with each other, I would like to know, gloves off, exactly what you are certain you know about me. And I will convey the same back to you, perfectly candidly… just so we know where we stand and, to be honest, what we stand to lose if this… doesn’t end well.”
((ooc: Maybe MacIntyre could have let slip that Michael did so? I’m thinking he probably was chummy with her at some point, or at least she has a habit of knowing everyone’s motives, though Cara’s Victoria has always been his main contact to the Deatheaters. I suppose if Owen knew this and that Michael works for the DEs and that he mostly did it to get him out of the way so he could continue to see Shannon, well… Michael’s in a bit of a pickle if all that comes out and it’ll be fun to write him realising how convincing a case Owen has managed to put together, do you reckon?))
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Post by Owen Walsh on Nov 7, 2012 17:26:13 GMT -6
Owen's eyebrows knotted together. Had he grown too cocky? Too ambitious? He'd checked and double-checked everything so many times. He then narrowed his eyes at Michael. "I do not resent my father, Mr Lehrer. He knew what I was capable of and... he pushed me to achieve it." He winced internally at the man's comment regarding his feelings for Helena. So... that answered that question.
The corner of Owen's mouth twitched slightly at the 'brilliantly ingenious potion' bit. It was that bizarre boost of confidence keeping him from total nervous breakdown. He adjusted his glasses again. His primary concern over getting caught was, admittedly, his mother. Owen was never super happy with his life to begin with and he could give a shit about his little brother, but he adored Shannon -- and knew that he was one of the only soft spots she had left, the one loss that would truly crush her.
He nodded silently before looking up at Michael. He calmly stated, "You're a Legilimens. You worked for... them. Probably still do. You put one of your own men in prison, left his sons without a father, all for a woman who didn't even want you. You're right, what you said before. I wouldn't call that an affair. I'd just call it... sad. I hope my memory of Aaron Walsh wasting away in that cell is permanently etched in your brain, sir." Owen pressed his fingers together and stared at Michael, hoping the man would see that he wasn't fucking around.
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Michael Lehrer
Pupil
An Angel who did not so much Fall as Saunter Vaguely Downwards
Posts: 55
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Post by Michael Lehrer on Nov 8, 2012 3:50:12 GMT -6
((ooc: Is it completely wrong that I want somehow to overhear them or to burst in unannounced? haha.))
“And now we have denial,” Michael retorted simply, looking down at his nails as though incredibly bored of the whole thing, “ ‘Pushing you to achieve it’… hmm yes well with rhetorical spin like that, maybe my department is more your area?” he joked dryly. He couldn’t help but grin in amusement, despite everything, as Owen’s thoughts stuttered in a wince as he mentioned Helena – he found it almost cute how enamoured Owen was with her. “You know she’d probably consider marriage… it’s keeping it in the family, she doesn’t find you wholly repulsive, she likes younger men now, you’re successful in your field… something to think about,” he advised him in a mockingly friendly tone.
As Owen revealed what he knew (which, yes, was everything it turned out), Michael remained inscrutable. He regarded the boy in consideration. “That was a fairly harsh and might I say too emotionally involved statement. Now, would you like the truth about why I turned your father in? He was cruel, sadistically so, you cannot know the truth of half of what he did for them. That kind of man is not fit to be a father in any sense of the word, Owen. Do you seriously think his emotional blackmail and tough-love parenting worked on you?” he asked incredulously, shaking his head a little at this. “Besides… you’re right, I wouldn’t call it an affair either though I’m not sure I run with your assessment. At the time I was fairly certain Aaron knew about it and to be honest I had a bit of self-preservation about the whole thing – I didn’t want him to take me down, so I took him down first. It’s amazing what proof they found in the end. All in all, I think your mother is much better without him. The scandal that surrounded it… I should have foreseen that and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone… I should have helped somehow but…” he trailed off to shrug, knitting his fingers together and meeting Owen’s gaze steadily, “What can I say? The horrible truth is that I was a man in love. And that is the line I will run with if my reasons are ever questioned. Everyone loves a good, ‘sad’ story, even if it’s unrequited love.”
Then he looked at Owen, “Alright. I have proof you are closely involved with a certain Ms MacIntyre who, by the way, is well within the inner circle and that is Ministry intelligence, not my own,” he added as an aside, “I have proof that you were the creator of the poisons which are now being employed to kill innocent people. Oh and I know your Uncle Harry is involved, perhaps only in a networking sense but… we’ve been trying to send him down for years and when his involvement with the Auror department ends up in disaster, perhaps we could implicate him too. Two birds with one stone, and you ending up in prison so young, so early in your life and career, and imagine how distraught your mother would be at losing you too,” he said casually. “Now, I realise that I don’t have quite the uh ‘wealth’ of accusations that you have towards me but I think you’ll find I am a much better practitioner of spin so I feel that somewhat levels the game. Is that sufficient?”
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Post by Owen Walsh on Nov 10, 2012 8:34:55 GMT -6
(ooc: ha, I'm up for whatever!)
Owen stared blankly at Michael, unamused. "Allow me to introduce you to the concept of personal boundaries, sir. None of that should be any of your concern."
He turned to stare at his half-finished paper, 'hmm'-ing every so often at what Michael said. It wasn't as if he didn't know that his father was cruel, sadistic -- he just couldn't bring himself to write the man off completely. He sat silently before quietly muttering, "Not up for you to decide whether or not we're better off, but fine. Nothing anyone can do about it now."
"Haven't you ever heard the expression 'ingeniously strong potions don't kill people, people kill people'?" Owen asked very dryly, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. He hadn't asked questions. As far as he knew, MacIntyre was using his creations to deal with a severe rodent infestation. His morals were, admittedly, twisted. Half the enjoyment he got from this whole business was trying to work out an antidote -- it was as if a lack of challenging problems to solve had driven him to create his own. He then sighed and stuck his hand out for a shake. "Fine. Deal," he conceded. "Pleasure doing business with you," he said sarcastically, in a manner that suggested he'd rather drive pins through his eyes.
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Michael Lehrer
Pupil
An Angel who did not so much Fall as Saunter Vaguely Downwards
Posts: 55
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Post by Michael Lehrer on Nov 11, 2012 10:17:22 GMT -6
((ooc: I threw it out there but idk who – I’m thinking a relative of either of them, Isaac or Harry or maybe Helena? Do you think any of them would work interestingly, assuming they basically overheard EVERYTHING?))
“Uh… Legilimens here… personal boundaries are non-existent,” Michael reminded him jokingly with an amused smile at just how blank Owen’s expression was. “For what it’s worth, I think you two would make a positively charming couple.” Watching the boy look at his work then he raised an eyebrow, “Oh, I’m sorry, am I boring you? Terribly sorry, old boy,” he dryly apologised. “Hmm? Alright, certainly, it’s not up to me, I can see your point and I can see why you reserve a lot of resentment for me because of it. In my defence, I did what I judged to be right. I cannot deny there wasn’t also some kind of selfish angle to it regarding your mother but… it’s done, you’re right about that,” he agreed surely.
“Hm yes, I do believe I have heard that somewhere. However, cut the knowledge source of said potions and the people, who are not clever enough to invent such potions themselves, will have to look elsewhere for their death draughts. And that could take a lot of time and energy so… all things considered, I’m completely behind the Ministry policy of rounding up the brains behind the operation, even if those people insist they harmless made poisons and were blissfully unaware of their intended purposes. Someone so intelligent would have to be wilfully stupid to truly not know what they were going to be used for,” Michael reasoned pointedly, eyeing Owen purposefully, before he let out a sigh at the situation the boy had got himself into. It wouldn’t be easy to keep his name out of the firing line if the Auror department got any closer on Owen’s trail, it would take a lot of effort and concentration on his part if it got to the stage of needing to manipulate Aurors’ minds (they wisely included Occlumency as part of their training programme) to keep the boy’s secret. He’d do it, of course, he’d already recognised just how much the loss of Aaron had affected Owen and Kevin and he did feel some semblance of guilt at this, despite the good game he talked, and he never wished to intentionally rob Shannon of anything else. Michael felt that the least he could do was try to make amends for Aaron’s imprisonment by saving her son from a similar fate. He hadn’t even spoken to her in months at this point and yet she still frequently slipped into his thoughts. Ugh, how awful.
“Deal?” he repeated questioningly, trying to hide how taken aback he was that the boy had agreed, but he nevertheless shook his hand firmly. “Oh it’s always a pleasure, Owen.”
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Post by Owen Walsh on Nov 11, 2012 20:52:56 GMT -6
(ooc: Hmm! Helena might be the most interesting/most natural choice to visit Owen? And she presumably wants both of them around, so Michael and Owen won't have to go on a killing spree to keep their shared secrets. Though that would make for an extremely dark comedy movie that I kind of want to see. :p)
"I fear you've stumbled across the point I was trying sarcastically to make, sir, which is that some of us would hesitate before taking a joyful romp through everyone's deepest darkest thoughts," he muttered. Would he himself be able to control the impulse, if he were a Legilimens? Probably not. Of course, he'd probably also drive himself insane in the span of about a week. "I was a bit busy with work before you barged in, yes. If you're done beating an imprisoned-for-life horse, I'd very much like to get back to it."
Owen eyed Michael for a second, trying to discern if what he said about Shannon was true, and more importantly, if it was something he could exploit. He was young and inexperienced, and his small triumph made him feel more in control than he actually was -- not fully aware of the tight corner he'd painted himself into. He pulled back from the handshake, dousing himself in hand sanitizer afterward (which was just something he did, not a personal affront, though Michael could be forgiven for assuming otherwise). "Do you hear something?" he asked suddenly, sure he was just being paranoid.
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