Who: Clara Abbott, Marcus Edgecombe
What: Clara needs to pick something up at Joceline's, but the angry hubby is there ;[
When: Thursday (as Laurie randomly decided XD)
Rating: Er idk violence and ~language~ XD



"One, second---" Clara twisted the front door of Joceline's house open, turning around to push it open with Marietta's carrier held tightly in her hands. Joceline was busy with some errand at work, so, of course Clara had volunteered to babysit, but unfortunately the container of formula had been left at home. "No worries Marie."

Letting out a breath, she put the girl down on the counter of the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge for the formula. Well. Hell. She had to make it. Not like she didn't know how, she was an expert at this by now, but she could've sworn she had some at her flat!

She was about ready to mix the water when she heard footsteps, and Clara rolled her eyes at the sight of Marcus, "Hullo," she muttered, going back to work.

Marcus was not in the mood to deal with people. Well, that was Thursdays for you, wasn't it? He had no idea where Joceline had gone--stupid bint, she was probably off with that bloody arse again. Really, how did she think that he would just sit there and be okay with her going off with other men? It wasn't as if he cheated on her--well, she probably thought he did, but he didn't. And of course she wouldn't leave their daughter, his daughter with him. No, that stupid bitch of a friend always got custody of his child when Joceline was out. Typical. He huffed when he heard the door shut loudly. Maybe it was Joceline back, or...bugger, no. It was Clara.

He reached around her carefully, looking carefully at his daughter on the counter before grabbing the bottle of scotch. "Glad to see that you have the decency to knock on the door," he drawled in response as he busied himself getting ice.

"Glad to see you've got the decency to skive off work and bless your coworkers with your lack of presence," Clara shot back, shaking the container and turning toward Marcus. She wasn't normally a confrontational person, she was actually quite the opposite. Most of her nasty remarks came from sitting at the bar with Malcolm where the people who the remarks were directed toward couldn't hear them. But, this was a man that hurt Joceline, and could hurt Marietta, and if Clara was anything, she was a bloody loyal Hufflepuff and would do anything for her friends and family.

She leaned back against the counter to watch Marcus (mostly because of Marietta), one hand continuing to shake the container and the other slipping into her pocket to grab her wand just in case. Clara didn't care what Joceline said---she would hex him if he merely thought about her the wrong way.

He slammed his glass down on the counter, which caused Marietta to startle awake. Ugh, last thing he needed was the bloody baby crying. He leaned his weight on the counter, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. "Bloody--" Oh this was just rich. This bint was probably the reason that he and Joceline had been having problems lately. "If I were you, I'd watch who I said things to," he growled out, now glaring at Clara. She had no right to say shit to him. His marital relationship was for him and Joceline to deal with, not some--some bint to stick her nose where it didn't fucking belong.

Clara smirked, her grip on her wand tight and she put down the container. There, he'd gone and woken the baby after she managed to keep her asleep through the floo and all of that jumbling for the keys. Merlin's fucking beard, this man couldn't do a damn thing right. She scoffed and crossed the kitchen to tend to Marietta.

"Or what, Marcus," she said, not hiding the fact anymore that she had her wand in her hand as she pulled the blanket off of the baby. She picked up the pacifier and put it in Marietta's mouth, and the girl stopped crying, but the whimpers were still there. Clara turned back to Marcus, shaking her head, "Or what? You'll smack me around like you do Joceline? Don't think I don't know what's been going on, you fucking prick!"

"You have no fucking right to tell me what to do," he yelled back. He felt something inside him snap, explode. "You're the one that's ruining our bloody marriage, telling her to go off and--and see other men! If it weren't for you, we would be doing just fine." He was fuming; he bunched his fingers into a fist before uncurling his fingers again. His wand was sitting back on the nightstand, luckily for Clara. But he could take her, that was obvious...wand or not. And without really thinking about it, he found himself crossing the kitchen towards Clara, fists ready to go.

In her wildest and most frantic dreams Clara would never have actually thought he'd do it. She knew he was capable of it, she'd seen Joceline's bruises, but---she stumbled back, completely and utterly sent into a shock at the pain and--the---Marietta was crying. Clara pressed back into the fridge, staring dumbly up at Marcus for a second before raising her wand shooting a stinging hex at his arm.

"Get away from her!" she shrieked through her tears---she couldn't help it, the pain was really too much, but she shot another quick spell at him, not caring if the neighbors called or if Marietta screamed because--no! He couldn't do this anymore! Not to Joceline! "GET OUT!"

"This is my bloody house!" he yelled back as his hand shot up to his face; oh, he could feel something burning on his--well, on his everywhere. He crumpled to the ground halfway between Marietta and Clara, his hands now cradling his face. He could feel his anger boiling up again; lucky for Clara, there wasn't much he could do now except sit there dumbly. Oh, but when Joceline got home. When she got home, there would be hell to pay.