Pulling The Hood Of His Robes A Little Tighter Around His Face, Regulus Had Stowed His Mask In His Pocket

At the woman's suggestion, Fenrir considered it for a moment. "Gruyere is an incredible suggestion. I did think about using a goats cheese, or a sheeps cheese to add depth I might do that for a smaller side dish rather than the main menu. Maybe some chargrilled leeks with goats cheese, a little bit of balsamic drizzle..." Fenrir would have to try it at home before he started messing about with his finely tuned menu here. "You can have the recipe if you like."

"You know which cheese could also work really well with this? A Gruyére. Or some aged red wine cheese. They have that sharpness that cheddar has but it's more layered." Talking about cheese was her favorite past time. "I'll have to try to make that at home one time. I doubt it'll be as good as yours, but I'll try my best."

"There's a small dash of mustard in there too, and some nutmeg," he said. He may work in a pub kitchen, he may be looked down upon within society, but he saw no reason to serve shit food. He kept his employers happy, and they continued to turn a blind eye to the days off that he requested each month like clockwork. "I find that the two work very well together. Just the right balance of each, and some finely sliced potatoes and...voila, or whatever the French say."

"Oh cheddar and parmesan together is a great idea. Usually people shy away from combining two stronger flavor profiles but I do find that they compliment each other well."

It wasn't like he set out this morning to darken the shelves of the Apothecary with his mood, but he couldn't help it. He wanted to be in and out efficiently, and he'd been pushed and shoved and bothered. Any reasonable person would be grumpy about it, though he did quietly admit that it wasn't the woman's fault that she'd been shoved into his back. Perhaps this was what he should expect from society these days.

Handing the bottle over, Regulus wondered how bad one had to be at potions in order to need to buy bottled potions from the Apothecary instead of brewing them at home. "People generally have lost all sense of common courtesy, never mind when you add the busyness of the festive season in," Reg grumbled, turning his attention back to the shelves before Sophia spoke again. "Yes, gurdyroot, it will add some depth and make the whole thing a bit stronger. Crush it in a pestle and just add a pinch in and it should work a charm," he offered. "I find some peace in brewing potions. It's methodical, just like cooking."

Crowds didn't overly bothers Sophia, but it was the lack of care of consideration towards others that did bother her. Yes, she understood the streets and shop was busy, yet, she knew there was never any need for the pushing and shoving some of them had resulted too.

She sensed the annoyance from him, though chose to ignore it, after all she could hardly blame him, she'd feel pretty irritated too if someone had been shoved into them.

"Yes" she nodded, taking the bottle from him. "Thank you, and sorry again. This time of years seems to send people into a frenzy." She paused, thinking to herself that perhaps she was simply talking too much. She went to turn away, but he spoke again, he focus back onto the man.

"Gurdyroot" she repeated. "I hadn't heard of that, clearly" she chuckled. "Thanks, I'll grab some. Looking at how chaotic it is out there, I think I'll need all the extra help I can get. Potions never was my strong point."

The childish part of him that Regulus had thought was long dead seemed like it was fighting to get out at his brother's comments, and part of him wanted to knock the damn chair over before tipping Sirius off his own chair but the last place he wanted to start a fight was the aurors office. "I'd rather have a stick up my arse than be seen sitting next to you," Regulus retorted, though his voice held more of a pathetic tone than he wanted. Regulus glanced up at his brother's face, searching for something although he didn't know what. Perhaps he was searching for a hint that Sirius was as unhappy as he was, although he knew that couldn't be true. To an outsider, which Regulus now was, he knew Sirius had got the better deal out of the two brothers.

"Thought you'd have changed your name to Potter or Lupin, or hell, even Pettigrew at this point - anything to distance yourself from me...from us, I mean," Regulus winced at his slip of the tongue. He couldn't let Sirius see how bad things were, or how much he quietly missed his brother. Sirius had made his choice a long time ago, and his choice had made life much worse for Regulus. Regulus' shoulders were broad enough to bear the weight of his brother's betrayal, even if sometimes he felt like he was carrying the weight of the world.

Sirius watched Regulus eye the chair beside him, giving his brother a smirk and a raised brow as he continued to stand up. "Not going to sit down?" he asked. "You look like you've got a stick up your arse," he noted, facing the desk in front of them again. He didn't know why he was antagonising Regulus; the presence of his brother seemingly turning him back into a teenager. He remembered that stiff stance, standing straight just one of the many things their mother had taken great care to instill in them through any means necessary. He still had great posture because of it, try as he might to be as un-Black-like as possible. "Well as much as it pains you all to remember, my last name's still Black," he replied, a reminder that he didn't exactly enjoy either.

Awaiting Thorfinn's appearance, Fenrir had begun sizing up the cottage in the distance. If he had to guess, he would say the place was heavily warded, though it didn't appear to have been made unplottable. At the crack of apparition, Fenrir turned to face Thorfinn and he didn't have to ask for further information before the other man offered it freely. "Witness protection," he snorted, twisting his wand in between his fingers. "What good has witness protection ever done anyone?"

"I'm always ready for fun," he said, starting to edge his way a little closer to the cottage though he stayed hidden in the tree line. "You've watched the patrols?" he asked, turning his wand on himself to cast a disillusionment charm over himself. "I don't know why we can't just kill the patrols...we can deal with whatever reinforcements they send."

Thorfinn finished his drink, watching the other come out from the back, changed and ready to go. There was nothing like having a good hunt and extracting some information. That seemed to be the go to for them. The more information they had, the better it would be for them. "See you there."

With a small twist, he popped from the white wyvern, coming out in a small clearing where a cottage stood off in the distance. He turned to find Fenrir standing there. "Corey Adler. He worked for the Minister of Magic, and was put under witness protection, and I wonder why." The last week, he had learned when patrol switch off happened and found a way to break the wards. "You ready to have a little fun. In five minutes we'll have enough time to break through and enter without anyone seeing us."

Regulus's gaze fixed upon Frank with a curious eye, before he shook his head. "Whether I was in the shop first is irrelevant...if you were at the shelf first, that's what's most important. You'd be entitled to take whatever you need," he said, it making absolute sense in his mind. "A bit of a grump...not a huge grump, but a bit. I'll take it. Better than being known for being a miserable bastard," he said, lips curling into a brief grin.

"Oh, well now when I go home I'm going to have to sit and think about future code names. Leo is too obvious, he'd know it was me immediately."

"Maybe, but if you were here first you deserve some as well, don't you think?" Maybe he ought to try and talk with Regulus more often, this really was a fascinating conversation. "Only a bit of a grump though. Everyone has to work at politeness anyways. It's a learned skill. You could definitely do it.

"Why not both? Go fully under cover. Give yourself a code name. Could be a bit amusing, honestly."

Fenrir had headed out into some woodland in the Cotswolds following on from a shift at the White Wyvern. He would head home to collect his son soon, but Fenrir sometimes needed to walk off a long shift and he had several preferred haunts across the countryside outside of London where he could usually be found in the middle of the night. He loved the quietness of the woods at night, and with his heightened senses, he didn't even need to illuminate his path. As he wound his way deeper into the woodlands, Fenrir heard some non-natural noise ahead.

Wand now in hand, Fenrir continued to approach quietly. The figure came into sight, and Fen let out a small sigh. The youngest Nott sibling, Pandora, alone in the woods at night. "Pandora...is it safe for you to be out in the woods so late? Don't you know creatures prowl between these trees?" he called, wand still in hand just in case she shot a jinx his way. @pandoraxnott

Up until now, Regulus had been incredibly careful about those he'd spoken to about his changing allegiances. He'd asked Edgar to honour that by keeping the true source of the information anonymous, and keeping the circle of protectors as small as possible. If he didn't accept James as a protector, that was a loose end and a risk. It infuriated him that this situation was clearly Edgar trying to honour Regulus' demands, and therefore he had been the harbinger of his own doom (if one wanted to be so dramatic, which he did). This would require a lot of contact with James, which he vehemently did not want.

Reg shrugged his shoulders, glancing down at his shoes. "Nobody likes wet socks," he murmured. When everything else was spiralling out of his control, wet socks was something entirely stupid and mundane that he could indeed control. As James settled the bottle back down, Reg snatched it up again and took another long swig. "I don't think you want me going anywhere near your head with a wand at the moment, not given how much firewhiskey I've just swigged. If you want to take the risk though..." he trailed off, quirking an eyebrow in James' direction. "What sort of test? Do you want to pinch me to make sure I'm real? I assure you this is actually happening, despite every atom of my body fucking begging for it to be a nightmare. I'm not sure even the Dark Lord himself could conjure up this particular situation, and yet Edgar Bones has just....well."

"What's not to understand? Edgar told you the situation, I assume. You volunteered because you're a hero and that's what heroes do, and unfortunately, the person is me. Here to continually disappoint people, as ever," he offered James a tight smile - a mask of protection. "My conscience finally won over my people-pleasing nature. I expect it will kill me, but that's the risk I've accepted. I'm sure if you go to Edgar and explain, he'll let you out of this assignment."

The universe was very clearly playing a prank on him. It was obvious. After twelve years of dishing them out, now, finally, his punishment had come, some kind of divine retribution in the form of this sick practical joke – and not a very funny one, at that. James bitterly willed the universe to try harder. He'd always felt justice would come back around to bite him in the arse one day, but couldn't have in his wildest dreams predicted something like this: Regulus Black, betraying his family’s cause, under James’ protection. The whole thing was outrageous.

Despite everything, he let out a breath of laughter. "It was getting into your socks," he repeated, amused, as if it were the most nonsensical thing in the world. To be honest, everything in this room right now seemed to be nonsensical. Walking around the table, he picked up the bottle and took a swig. Face immediately soured at the taste. He replaced it on the table, sliding it across towards Regulus. "I'll obliviate you, you obliviate me?" he suggested. "I can't believe this is happening. Surely it's not real. Is it a test, d'you think?" He nodded. "I think we might be, too."

James chewed his bottom lip. "Okay, you're going to have to explain what's happening here, because I don't understand."

Regulus nodded approvingly as Frank finally saw his logic. "It's just...basic courtesy to other shoppers, I feel. Do you think we'll regularly see each other at the apothecary? I'd appreciate that though, given the owner has a vendetta against me," Reg said, offering Frank a small smile. "Maybe I need to try harder at being a miserable bastard then...it's what my family would want."

"I'm not sure I look much like a Bill either. Something regal...Henry definitely. Albert, or George maybe. Something to match my strong jawline."

"Okay, I can see the logic behind that." Frank said. "Next time I'm first to the shelf, I'll make sure to grab you a few." That seemed only fair, and if it was his right as first to the shelf then Regulus could hardly argue. "Trust me, I've met miserable bastards. You're definitely not one of them.:

Frank pursed his lips in thought, ruminating on possible code names. "The best ones are often the most simple. Go with something more common, like... Bill or Philip. Though honestly you don't look much like a Philip. Henry, maybe?"

Fenrir turning Remus had been nothing other than revenge for the vile way Lyall Lupin had treated him. As a young adult, he had known that turning Lyall would not be enough suffering for the older man - no, it would do more damage to turn his young son and watch that boy become everything that Lyall hated. Lyall quickly changed his tune - Remus, as far as Fenrir knew, was not on the werewolf register and his condition had largely been kept secret. So much for his allegation that werewolves deserved nothing but death, for Remus stood before him, in adequate health.

Remus' ongoing resistance towards Fenrir was understandable, and yet he felt sorrow that the younger man continued to choose suffering. Werewolves were pack animals, they were not meant to be solitary creatures. When they were alone, they would turn on themselves and rip themselves to pieces as Remus appeared to be each month.

Letting his hand drop as Remus shoved it off, Fenrir crossed his arms as he let the other man shout, not bothering to interrupt. He let him run his course, staring calmly at the other man's explosion of anger. "Look at me, Remus. Do I look like I'm covered in scars? Do I look like I'm suffering? The full moon was two nights ago, and I am in perfect health. I don't need to take healing potions the following morning, I wake up and I can get on with my life. My five year old son copes better with the changes than you do, because you are resisting who you truly are. You make this so much worse than it needs to be. I have control over myself when I turn, the pack helps with that. We're not meant to be alone, Remus. A sole werewolf suffers, but one with a pack...it's beautiful. You may think I'm demented, you may think I've lost my mind...maybe I have. But I am not the one suffering needlessly every month. I live a full and happy life. My son has a better existence than you appear to - because he has accepted his species, and runs free each full moon. There is a pack that will accept you. And if you don't want to be in a pack under me, there is a pack in Scotland that would accept you. You don't have to live like this."

Remus had nothing but hatred for Fenrir and hatred wasn't something he took lightly. Fenrir was the only one in that class. Even Voldemort was something different. He didn't understand how anyone could think it right to curse a young child to become something he would be his entire life. It was cruel and selfish. That's all Fenrir was. That's all he ever had been. Remus was living proof if he had ever dared reveal what he was to the masses. The people who knew were the only ones that needed to know.

Remus felt his broken bones and scars flare up as the older werewolf touched him. His body shivered and shook. He tried to hold steady, not wanting Fenrir to know he had such an effect on him but his body was letting him down. But there was something else in the shaking -- anger. He clenched his fists wanting to hurt the werewolf. How dare he touch him. He had already done enough to ruin Remus' life. He didn't deserve to touch the younger man.

He finally turned around, red with fury and shoved Fenrir's hand off his shoulder. "Not meant to be difficult?! Are you out of your bloody mind? Our bones tearing apart each month? Scars showing up and not knowing where they came from? Internal injuries we can't go to the hospital for because we have no good excuse? Our bodies rejecting us? Attacking the innocent? How is that not difficult?! How is that beautiful?!" Remus took his clenched fists and punched them together. "You're demented to think we're a superior race. We have no control of what we are! We're -- we're -- we're freaks of nature."