(1937-11-06) Casual Threats
Details for Casual Threats
Summary: Magnus runs into Sweeney in the Dog and Bones.
Date: November 6, 1937
Location: Dog and Bone Pub
Related: The Morning After/others.

The Dog and Bone Pub East End London

It is a fall morning. The weather is warm and overcast.

The Dog & Bone, a classic public house that has sat nestled in among the shops and residences of the Borough for countless years. Stepping inside is a bit like a portal to the past, as one is immediately surrounded by stone and mortar walls, thick wooden beams and rafters, and the hazy scent of pipe smoke and cinders from the large, wood-burning fireplace that warms the building. A handful of tables leave little room for walking in the cramped space, though most of the patrons tend to crowd around the wrap-around bar on the wall opposite the hearth. The only open space is a collection of mismatched chairs and sofas, close enough to be warmed by the fire, and turned to face one corner of the room, where a tiny stage rises six inches above the floor.

Magnus doesn't frequently come down to the East End, but sometimes it's a nice change of pace from the more posh sections of London; despite his rich tastes he actually enjoys places like these, from time to time. They're good places to keep tabs on the attitudes of the common public. He's dressed slightly less eloquently than usual in a simple white shirt, slacks, and a black wool coat as he opens the creaky door and paces inside. Almost immediately he reaches inside his coat and pulls out a small cigar, lights it, and heads towards the bar.

Sweeney walks through the door and spots Magnus, a smirk appearing on his face. He slides the black leather gloves from his phonebook sized hands and apptoches him, "Mr. Troy. It's been far too long. I trust you're keeping in good health?"

Once he's seated, Magnus orders a dark beer from the bartender - also not his usual fare, but Germany will give you a taste for the stuff - and folds his hands on the bar. When he hears Sweeney's voice, he jerks, his pale grey eyes widening involuntarily for a second before he narrows them and smiles. "I'd say it hasn't been long enough, Mr. Sweeney." His sarcasm-laced voice doesn't sound hostile despite his words, and he motions towards the seat next to him. "Have a seat. Your drink's on me." He is a diplomat, after all… whatever his true intentions might be.

Sweeney smiles devilishly at the man and nods, taking a seat next to him, tucking his gloves into his coat pocket and addressing the bartender, "Scotch, please." He looks over to Mr. Troy and says, "How are you holding up, then?"

Once Sweeney's scotch is served along with his beer, Magnus takes a long sip of the foamy liquid and leans back a bit on the barstool. "Quite well. The healers at Mungo's can do amazing things." He smirks wryly, though there's a bit of a dangerous glint in his eyes. "And you, Mr. Sweeney?"

Sweeney picks up the glass and takes a short sip of it, clearing his throat afterwards and saying, "I'm quite sure. Never had to use them myself, though. It's not often I let someone get his hands on me." He looks over to the man and says, "I'm doing wonderfully."

"I would imagine not," Magnus drawls, taking another slow drink of his beer and then raising his hands to straighten the front of his coat. He raps his fingers on the bartop for a second and then turns to smile thinly at the older man, his eyes calculating. "Well, Mr. Sweeney, no hard feelings. I understand you were simply acting on orders. What say we bury the hatchet?"

Sweeney stops and wonders for a moment if Magnus is offering a play on words as for a while there, he was known as The Hatchet, but dismisses the notion. He turns and looks over at him, saying, "I wasn't aware there was a hatchet to be buried."

"Oh? I suppose we're already on even footing, then," Magnus replies smoothly, raising his glass of beer a bit and chuckling mildly. "You did me the favor of setting up my security, so I wonder if you might do me another, Mr. Sweeney. One that I'll pay you very well for."

Sweeney takes a sip of his scotch and looks over at him, "It depends. What exactly do you have in mind?" Sweeney's weakness: The almighty dollar.

Magnus nods when his intuition proves to be right on that count. He sets a fingertip on the bar and draws it slowly across the surface, gouging a thin line in the worn veneer. "I'm being tailed by Montague operatives that are ostensibly part of 'security' for me. What can you do to make them go away?" He raises a hand palm-up in a conciliatory gesture. "Understand, I don't want to pick a fight with anyone. I simply like my privacy." In other words, he wants a certain monkey named Wolfgang off his back to whatever degree possible.

Sweeney reaches over and rests his hand on the man's shoulder, turning his head to look at him, saying, "It would be wise of you not to take action against my boss, Troy." The weight of his hand on a shoulder gives the impression that many bad things could be done if Sweeney was so-inclined, "Just learn to outrun them. Apparate a lot."

Magnus glances down slowly at the hand on his shoulder, then smiles coolly. "Of course not, Mr. Sweeney. Don't get the wrong idea." He turns back to the bar and takes another drink of his beer. "Well, your advice is appreciated."

Sweeney smiles wickedly at the man and squeezes down a little bit before removing his hand and finishing off the scotch. He stands up and straightens out his coat, saying, "You want to know how I deal with wizards, Magnus?" He of course says the 'W' quietly.

Another sip of the beer, then the glass is set down. Magnus folds his hands into a steeple and turns to look at Sweeney, his pale grey eyes resting on the mobster's with cool indifference. "Do tell."

Sweeney buttons up his coat and looks over at Magnus, replying in a coolness that nearly matches that of Magnus, saying, "A knife, Mr. Troy. Just a knife." He pats the man on the back and turns to leave.

The ambassador remains silent as Sweeney makes the veiled threat and pats his back. His lips thin out, then he turns back to the bar and takes a long drink of beer. Well, he wasn't planning on such an encounter… but such things happen. For now, he turns his attention towards other conversations so he can accomplish his original purpose in coming here.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License