Snippet #1313761

Had this been any other day of the month, save perhaps the day after this one, Sander wouldn't have been able to say at word. Angry on Drake's behalf, not to mention horrified by this man's cruelty - everyday Sander would have drawn into himself, refusing to let reality scare him any further. Unfortunately, the werewolf was currently going through a mentioned stream of uncontrollable mood-swings, and though he had been quite calm up until now, a little trigger in him snapped.

"Don't be stupid, Mr Malfoy," Sander spat with a surprising amount of hatred behind his words, his eyes slightly more purple than usual. Since he went to Durmstrang, he had no idea what that necklace was, but he could give a wild guess.

"I don't know what that thing does, but just how long do you think you'll be able to hold it? If you kill the boy, I can only think of a very few amount of things able to stop his brother from tearing you apart. And if you manage to find a way to hold the child constant hostage -- how long before we, or anyone else, does something everyone will regret in order to save him?

We're not going to work for you. In fact, if Drake doesn't manage to rip your throat out, I'll be more than happy to finish the job for him. So, what are you going to do? Kill us, and wait for the back-up, which are currently making their way here, so that they can take you down? Are you going to walk out of here and have your crazy what's-his-face take care of the dirty work for you?

Or perhaps you and your bloody lackeys can take the highroad straight to hælvete, piss off, and leave us alone?" The last words were said in a quite literal growl, before the boy seemingly calmed down. His expression remained angered, his eyes didn't change back, but he took a step back, looking very confused with his own words. Then his face grew slightly more worried once more -- there was no way Malfoy was going give that speech a positive reaction. Well, positive for them, anyway.

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

The pocket-watch came back up, not even a minute later. Something ought to happen soon, James thought to himself. The outsiders didn't have long to get here, going by the sounds coming from downstairs. Whatever Lucius was up to, he did hope the bastard didn't go and get himself killed. He always got the blame when his associates died, and quite frankly, it was getting a bit tiring. Calling him a wild card because they practically suicided themselves to death, which was hereby a phrase he'd never use again, leaving him with all the work.

"Well," he said in a low, yet conversational tone, taking another look at his watch. "I do believe this is what they call 'the calm before the storm'."

(( IF IT TOUCHES YOU, YOU DIE OF SUICIDE. Who can guess the reference. Come on. ))