At Therese's touch, Caradoc's eyes closed and his lips formed into a grimace. He supposed he could carry on the façade for a bit longer, with a dying hope that it would work, but even then, there would still be loose ends. Therese wouldn't let go of it, the possibility of him, as he knew how all to well she could harp on matters until their death. Either way, he would be left with the path of having... to clean something up.
Or, he thought much more cheerfully, this was not Therese Bonaccord at all and the first event in what would undoubtably be a field of disasters was about to unfold. If someone pretending to be Therese Bonaccord was approaching him in public, then the truth was out. And was about to be killed.
Neither option was preferable, and each scenario weighed on Caradoc to the point of burdensome. Former housemate or former peer? They both made him feel tired, and sullen. But fortunately, there was a quick way to bring this identity question to light. An old Order trick that hadn't failed him in the past.
Dipping his chin to his chest, Caradoc brought his legs to a stop and watched Therese out of the corner of his eye. Her opposite hand was still in her pocket, presumably clutching a wand. At least he could say his hand was already doing the same. Breathing in through his nose, he spoke quietly.
"Do you remember what you said to me on the platform after seventh year?" he murmured. While his gaze stayed focused on her, his natural instinct to begin surveying the scene around them had his gaze subtly skipping around for any potential looming figures.
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