Who: Chester and Violet
What: House call ;]
Where: Chester's Abode
When: Todayyy?



Violet took a deep breath. This was not exactly her usual role in the job, but she had been begging the department to give her a more active role in the investigations for months now. She furrowed her brow and lifted her hand to knock hard on the door, trying not to fidget. That would just make her look suspicious, and she felt ridiculous enough as it was standing at this man’s door in the rain.

She was here to inspect some of his goods, because a few cursed objects had been tracked back to this man. For all she knew, he was just an innocent salesman who had been conned by a Death Eater -- or he was one of them, and she was about to get blasted. She’d heard about his family’s ‘disappearance’, after all.

She frowned, curling her hand around the wand in her pocket and waiting for him to answer. She just had to -- stay calm, right?

Right.

To say that Chester didn't normally receive unannounced visitors would be an understatement. In fact he couldn't remember the last time someone showed up on his doorstep without his prior knowledge. Not that this mattered much, he kept his house immaculate. His over zealous attention to detail and anything that could potentially foil a plan didn't allow for him to leave anything less than desirable laying about for any passer by to notice.

He on the other hand, was looking a bit too disheveled for his liking. He never left the house looking less than pristine, so having to open the door after hastily pulling on robes and trying to smooth down his hair with his hand was beyond irritating. But whoever it was at his doorstep on this raining day had to be here with some important issue. Perhaps some late follow up to the disappeace of his late wife. He frowned at the thought. He was certain that he had all of that taken care of.

No matter what it was, it would be rude to keep them waiting much longer and Chester had appearances to keep up. He pulled the door open with a small sigh. "Hello? Can I help you?" he asked the witch pleasantly.

...well, she hadn’t been expecting someone handsome based on the files that they had on him. She puffed herself up, glad that she hadn’t chosen today to wear her hair in side braids -- and flashed him her own smile.

“Mr. Scabior, is that correct?” It wouldn’t do for her to start accusing the man in front of her of doing something that his boss -- maybe his manager? -- was responsible for, but as far as she understood it, Chester ran things from his home. Still, maybe this was his -- assistant. She drew her badge out of her pocket, holding it up with what she hoped was steady intent.

“Ministry of Magic. I have a few questions, if you don’t mind.” Nothing too scary to frighten him off of letting her in to start with, right?

Chester leaned over and inspected the badge she held up before stepping aside to allow her to enter his home. She certainly didn't look like a hit wizard. "Oh?" he said with a tone of surprise, "Very well. Come on in, its miserable out here."

He lead her into the sitting room off the foyer as he mentally ran down a list of potential reasons for her to be dropping by. "Please pardon the mess, I wasn't expecting company." Chester mused ironically as he picked up the Prophet that was the only thing cluttering the room. "Can I offer you a cup of tea or are we going straight to business?"

Right, because his home was completely filthy. Quite the opposite, it looked almost suspiciously spotless. She felt something tighten in her chest momentarily, and forced it away. It was silly to be so nervous when all this man did was sell antiques.

“Oh, I think I could manage some tea. I’m a little chilled, anyway.” And it was true -- she was damp even if her robes had water repellent charms put on them. She stepped inside and tucked away her badge, observing her surroundings with a quick visual sweep before turning back to Chester. “If it isn’t too much trouble, of course.”

"No trouble at all." he said before turning to call his house elf and asking he ever so politely to fetch them some tea. "Amazingly helpful, Mindy is. I don't know how I'd get anything done all by myself without her," he commented absently.

He gestured for her to take a seat, waiting politely before settling into a seat of his own. "So what can I help you with, Miss..." he started as his house elf scurried in and delivered their tea. Chester thanked her before turning his attention back on his guest. "Sorry I didn't catch your name." Anyone else, he supposed, would probably more nervous than he currently was. Having a Ministry official in their home for who knew what reason knowing the amount of skeletons in his closet, but Chester thrived on this sort of situation. A real life game of chess where quick thinking kept him out of Azkaban.

At least he was being polite to his house-elf. Some people didn’t grasp the fact that a house-elf could just as quickly poison your tea or spit in it than serve it to you with sugar. She took her cup of tea from the elf once she came back with a polite half-nod, pursing her lips until Chester spoke again. She settled down into the chair after a silent charm to make sure there wasn’t anything strange about the thing.

“Voltaire.” She wasn’t supposed to give him her first name, right? She took a sip of her tea.

“I’m sure you’re very busy, so we might as well start speaking about business.” She unrolled a parchment with several pictures on it from her bag, laying them out on her knees so that he could take a look at them.

“Do you recognize these artifacts?”

Oh, was that all? Some artifacts he sold, easy, almost boring even. Out of all the things he had done, this would take the least amount of effort to clear up. So little, he could even afford to take some of his focus and pay attention to the fact that this witch was very attractive.

He leaned over to look at the parchment she was holding out. His fingers brushed hers as he took it from her. “Oh yes, I do.” No point in denying it, they have obviously already been tracked back to him. He remembered them clearly. Bought and sold all relatively quickly, and yes he knew about some of the charms and jinxes hidden in them but only because he knew what he was looking for. He didn’t bother removing them, a, because he really didn’t care, and b, because the were concealed well enough that he could feign ignorance.

“I have all the paperwork in my office, if you would like to see it.”

Whether or not that touch had been intentional, it served to remind her just how long it had been since anyone had actually touched her other than -- well, affectionate shoulder-pats from people at work. She cleared her throat and tried not to get distracted from the task at hand.

“We’ve had some complaints about them. Can you account for where they came from?” If he was knowingly buying from someone who was a suspected Death Eater, she had to think that he’d known the risks associated with the items, and then he should’ve had them checked out by the Ministry, but of course … that was both a lengthy and expensive process. Still, he was cooperating -- maybe it was just a misunderstanding.

“...yes, that would actually be perfect. It’s just a formality, you understand.”

“Of course.” Chester said standing. “Nothing serious I hope? I would hate if one of my customers got hurt due to an oversight. I normally take everything to an appraiser who checks them against Ministry standards. I’m sure it will be easier for you to just follow me. That way if you have anymore questions will be right there.”

His hand fluttered at the small of her back, never actually touching her, but the intention was clear, as he lead her to his office. He shifted though the parchments stacked neatly on his desk. Perfectly forged certificates of authenticity, passes on inspections, anything he needed to clear his sales.

“The necklace I bought from Mrs. Masterson about three months ago. The broach from a grumpy old man basically throwing away his ex-wife’s things.” He handed over everything pertaining to the items she was questioning. “Here you are. I have copies if you need to keep those.”

“...do you have the name of the appraiser that gave you the go-ahead? Some of the curses on these things were practically staring me in the face.” Then again, she was used to looking for that kind of thing and she had an eye for detail. It was that fact that made it obvious to her what he was -- well, trying to do.

She swallowed hard, taking the copies of the papers from him with a nod and tucking them away into the self-compressing envelope she used to carry important documents in. “It wasn’t anything too serious, no, but a few socialites lost a finger or two for a couple of hours.” Violet would be going over these papers closely later, but -- well, for now … everything seemed to be checking out. She couldn’t believe he’d been so understanding about everything.

“I think that should do just fine, but I’ll -- be sure to come back if I need to follow up with anything.” Which mean that she should be leaving now … right? She bit her lip gently, glancing to the side.

“blah some name here... Here I have his card. Just let me know if you have anymore questions.” Chester held out a business card between two fingers for her to take. When she moved to take the card, Chester captured her fingers in his own.

“There is no reason for you to rush off, you should at least stay and finish your tea, Miss Voltaire.” he invited offering her a charming smile. “I apologize, this is most likely vastly inappropriate, but it is still pouring out and if you don’t have somewhere to be, you should wait out the rain.”

He honestly wouldn’t have had to do more than remind her that it was still pouring outside to convince her to stay, but he was -- well, being forward in a way that reminded her of just the opposite of what her mother wanted for her. She took a sharp breath in when he caught her fingers in his, glancing down.

“I suppose you’re right. I’d hate to get soaked again when I’ve just started to dry out...” And her tea was still in the other room. She cleared her throat and drew her hand back with the business card, tucking it into the files he’d handed her previously. “So you’ll just have to find a way to -- entertain me.”

Chester’s smiled turned a bit more mischievous as he took a step closer into personal space, under the pretense of putting something away on the shelf behind her. Out of the reactions he planned for, he wasn’t expecting one so---encouraging. “I am certain that I will be able come up with something.”

He lingered for a moment before taking a step back. “Either way, there is nothing entertaining here in my office. Perhaps we should go back to the sitting room. It is far more comfortable.” he suggested, although he didn’t make any indication to moving any further away than he currently was.

“Oh, of course.” She didn’t want him to think that she was some sort of easy harlot, but he was -- attractive, all right, and it had been a while since she’d really had the time for a man in her life. She was finally feeling a little more settled in at the office, and they’d started sending her on real missions. That meant that they trusted her, didn’t it?

Violet stepped artfully out of the personal space bubble and smiled over her shoulder to him, heading out into the living room where they’d been before. She wasn’t sure what was so entertaining out here, but maybe he had a trick or two up his sleeve.

Well this was a very promising turn of events. He followed trailed behind her, settling down on the opposite side of the couch that she had chosen to sit down on. “So, Miss Voltaire, now that all this business is aside, do I get the pleasure of knowing your first name?”

He leaned back propping his feet up on the coffee table stretching his arm across the back of the couch. If he reached out in just the slightest, he could play her hair. If he wanted. “You can call me Chester if you’d like. Or Tripp, some people call me that as my father decided to give me his incredibly pretentious name make me a third.” Chester rolled his eyes at that. “Anything but Mr. Scabior.”

She folded her hands over her lap and pursed her lips in a line. It couldn’t hurt, could it? He’d be able to find it easily enough if he called in to the office, anyway, since there wasn’t exactly a long list of female hitwizards in their area.

“Violet. And -- trust me, I completely understand about the pretentious parents.” Her mother was ‘new money’, though, so she just came off being even more desperate than some of the other people in rich circles. She tipped her head to the side. “Chester it is, then.”