Coiled (Book 1 of 2)

Wise Man

"Could you pass the coffee, Crouch?"

"Since when do you drink coffee, Rosier?"

Visible dark circles under his eyes, Evan turns and gives Barty a blank stare, "... Since this morning, apparently."

"In need of something a bit higher octane than tea, are you?"

"That's right. Precisely."

Fact of the matter is Evan desperately needs the extra caffeine, especially after the sight he stumbled upon unknowingly late last night.

"Not sleeping well?"

Barty's question, innocent enough if it weren't for the way his eyes now damningly dart between Evan and Reggie.

You know what, Crouch?

Sometimes you really get on my very last nerve -

"The mattress is too firm."

"Ah."

From his place at Evan's side, Reggie subtly slips one hand beneath the table, giving Evan's knee a supportive squeeze. He's no idea - not the faintest clue - what kept Evan awake all night once he finally rejoined him in bed, but he's here to support him nonetheless.

It's quiet now other than the birdsongs out the window, as the three men sit together at the long breakfast table. They're the first three up this morning. From down the hall, the telltale sound of whistling. Whistling which causes both Evan and Reggie to simultaneously tense. Sure enough, a few seconds later, Henry Mulciber's handsome face appears in the doorway. And unlike Evan, he's the very portrait of well rested.

It's actually completely infuriating.

Seeming to think along the same lines as Evan, Reggie clears his throat and narrows his eyes at the sight of Mulciber as he lifts his teacup up from the saucer, "Sleep well, Henry?"

"Like a fucking baby lamb, Black. You?"

"No complaints."

To everyone's surprise, Henry traverses the full length of the table; rather than sit next to Barty as expected, he instead slips down into the seat on the other side of Evan, causing Reggie to reluctantly slip his hand away.

Sighing contentedly, Henry smiles at the three of them provocatively as he leans forward and plucks two small oranges from the fruit bowl in the centre of the table, "Riddle me this ..."

"Mmm?"

It's practically a grunt from Evan.

That's right, a grunt.

If you want actual words from me, I need to consume more caffeine first.

Leaning back in his seat, Mulciber sets one of the oranges down on his plate, the other he begins quickly peeling, "... What's the only thing worse than one Carrow?"

Eyes lighting up with amusement, Barty bites, "... Tell us, Henry."

A quick glance around as he tosses the orange peel down on the napkin next to his plate, "... Two Carrows."

When only Barty laughs at the quip, Henry shrugs and reaches for the nearest tea cup, one which instantly fills with his favourite tea, the piping hot fragrant scent of spicy lemon zest now filling the air.

As Reggie lifts his knife and fork back up towards his plate, the sound of quick, purposeful footsteps echoes from down the hall.

Dropping his orange wedges down on his plate, Henry leans forward in his seat and whispers to the other men, "... In fact ... here comes one now. I can sense them from leagues away."