(1937-11-20) Sudden Politics Over Breakfast
Details for Sudden Politics Over Breakfast
Summary: When Laurence and Rhyeline join Cyril Malfoy for breakfast, he shows a sudden interest in the political views of Ambassador Magnus Troy, who the girl works for.
Date: Tuesday, November 20, 1937
Location: Leaky Cauldron

It is a fall day. The weather is warm and drizzling.

Leaky Cauldron - London

This cramped, angular room is the taproom of the Leaky Cauldron. A long bar runs along one side of the room, plain wooden stools set out before it. Smoke from pipes and candles fills the air. The patrons of this curious little bar, many of them elderly, sit hunched over their mugs at the tables. Waitresses sometimes coined 'Wenches' bustle back and forth bearing trays of food and mugs of ale. Many of the people seem strangely out of place, dressed in cloaks and floppy hats, as if they stumbled out of another century. Notably absent is any modern muggle devices or electric lighting, or any sign of electricity at all. Still, the occasional muggle does find their way in here, usually declaring it to be 'quaint' and 'atmospheric'.

In that perfect hour between the last of the breakfast crowd and the first of the lunch crowd, the Leaky Cauldron is perfectly quiet and calm. Behind the bar, the barkeep stands polishing glasses with an ancient rag. Only one barwench remains, having drawn the short straw while the others are all off on break.

Tucked into a quiet corner of the room, a single patron (Rhyeline) hides behind a cup of coffee as she takes a long, slow sip of its restorative richness. A copy of the Daily Prophet hovers in the air in front of her open somewhere in the middle. The front page is plastered with moving black-and white images of the chaos at St. Mungos the day before.

Cyril steps into the Leaky Cauldron, rubbing at his face. Seems that the man has just woke up, or is suffering from a massive hangover…or both. He walks over to the bar and orders up a glass of water. He'll stay leaned against the surface, not taking the time to look at the one other patron in the room.

Rhyeline peeks around from behind the newspaper to watch Cyril with quiet caution as he drags himself over to the bar. There is a subtle haunted quality to her young, dark gaze that was not there when they had first met. However, should he glance over, instead of withdrawing once more behind her newspaper, the girl nods in greeting.

Laurence makes his way into the Leaky Cauldron, wearing his usual grey trenchcoat and tugging off a pair of leather gloves that are quickly shoved into the leather messenger bag at his side. He's got a small smile for folks who look his way, waving or winking to various female and even male patrons who give him a greeting and he makes his way towards the bar, leaning against it. "Ahh, just tea and any of the left over breakfast bits you have…don't worry, I'm not picky."

Cyril takes his glass of water and downs it in one go, clearing his throat afterwards. He turns to have a glance around and gives a smile and a nod to Laurence before looking at Rhye and giving her a wink.

Rhyeline hesitates at the wink and almost withdraws with a sudden shyness behind the newspaper. However as a second man wanders into the Leaky Cauldron, the girl lingers to watch him curiously for a moment before shifting her gaze once more to Cyril.

There's alot of looking going on, and nodding, and some winking and all that so Laurence just breaks the silence. "Alright, lets do the whole late breakfast ting, pull up a table, I'll get the drinks…get the lovely lookin' lady over yonder to join us, hm?" He chuckles softly and shakes his head, turning to order extra breakfast food.

Cyril smirks and says to Rhye, "Such a shy creature are you, young Diderot." He looks back to Laurence, seemingly trying to place him from somewhere before nodding to him, "Alright, fair enough." He smiles to Rhye and says, "You up for a little bit of breakfast then, Diderot?"

Rhyeline’s pale features warm with a noticeable flush. After a moment of further hesitation where her gaze flickers cautiously from one man to the other, the girl at last nods and rises carefully. “Yes, sir. Thank you, I’d like that very much.” Folding up the newspaper, she carries it one hand with her cup of coffee in the other and approaches them slowly. Her gaze lingers upon Laurence’s fair features and nodding to the broom-maker in greeting she murmurs, “Pleased to meet you. My name is Rhyeline Diderot.”

Laurence thumbs the side of his nose before he turns to bring the plates to an appropriate table along with some cups of tea and he nods politely to both Cyril and Rhyeline. "A beautiful name, for a beautiful woman…its fitting, I'm Laurence Toulson…Master Broom-Maker, I own that newer shop in the alley, Flights of Fancy." He makes his introductions with a warm smile and turns to Cyril. "I didn't catch your name mate…but that's me, the smell of the food suffocated my manners."

Cyril offers a hand to the man as he sits down, saying, "Cyril Malfoy." It's simple and to the point. No messy titles to get in the way of that glorious last name he touts proudly.

Rhyeline lowers her gaze at Laurence's flirtatious compliment. With a small nod, she murmurs, "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Toulson." Setting the newspaper onto the table, she holds tight to her cup of coffee with both hands. It is only when Laurence turns his attention to the most adventurous member of the Malfoy family that the young witch peeks up at them both once more to take in their conversation.

Laurence takes the hand and squeezes it gently as he shakes and then releases it, settling down at the table himself. "Master Malfoy and Lady Rhyline, what lovely company I have for breakfast today." He shakes his head a bit and digs in to his meal with the gusto of a person who's worked hard and is refueling, still maintaining manners but he appreciates his food indeed.

Cyril leans back in his chair, still studying Laurence before turning his eyes to Rhye, "So, what have you been up to, Miss Diderot? Pandering to the whims of the good ambassador, I trust?"

Rhyeline keeps to coffee for the moment. Perhaps she has already eaten. At the nature of Cyril’ question, the young witch blinks once. “That is not how I would put it. The Ambassador’s work involves neither whims nor the need for pandering.”

Laurence scratches his cheek before taking another bite of something with potato in it, and he takes a sip of his tea, watching the two have their conversation and staying politely quiet.

Cyril nods to Rhye and says, "Indeed." He's as cool and calm as always as he speaks. He rests his chin on his hand as he continues to watch the two of them. It's a moment before he speaks back up, "I'm curious. Where does Ambassador Troy fall on the subject of the Statute."

Rhyeline’s dark gaze flickers to Laurence before she looks up at Cyril once more. “I thought such affairs did not interest you, Mr. Malfoy,” she murmurs with a subtle smile. Bringing the cup of coffee to her lips, she peers over the brim up at Cyril. A glance to Laurence and she asks softly, “Do they interest you, sir?”

Laurence has to laughs softly, pressing his fist to his mouth as he cough and shakes his head. "Pardon? Oh goodness…you should try this, so much butter." He wipes his mouth and clears his throat. "I try not to mix politics with breakfast, its bad for digestion."

Cyril smirks at Rhye and says, "Perhaps I've had a change of heart." He does look to Laurence as he says he'd rather not talk about politics and provide a simple 'hrmm' before flagging down a wench and ordering a cup of coffee for himself.

"Then we must discuss it sometime," murmurs Rhyeline with that enigmatic smile of hers. "But perhaps not now," she adds, glancing to Laurence. "Such things are intricate matters and not all have such an interest." Looking up once more to Cyril, she tilts her head just a bit to the side. "Perhaps instead… we might hear more of your travels in the Far East? I have always wanted so much to travel there. I am curious. Of all the countries you visited, which did you cherish most?"

Laurence chuckles softly and shakes his head as he takes out a few bills and tucks them under his plate, a little extra to cover any drinks that the others might order as he gets to his feet and grins. "Hey, don't let my sensitive digestion muck up the works…you two obviously have much to talk about." He tugs two soft grey business cards from up his sleeves, setting them down on the table…and they have a picture of a broom that changes color and the words 'Flights of Fancy Broom Shop - Turning your flying fantasies into reality…' along with an address and his name Laurence Toulson - Master Broom Maker. "You both must come to see the shop…there's always a glass of wine or a cup of tea prepared for every person." He flashes a grin and waves a hand as he turns to head for the exit.

Cyril looks up as Laurence turns to leave and begins to ask him a question but holds it back as to not stop his exit. He hrmms softly to himself once again and turns back to Rhye, saying, "Egypt. Now, tell me about Troy."

Rhyeline parts her lips to encourage Laurence to stay, but he is already heading for the door. Resting back in her chair once more, she shifts her dark gaze to Cyril once more. After a slow, thoughtful sip of coffee where she watches him carefully, she rests the cup upon the table and murmurs, “You are not the first to try to learn more of the Ambassador through me. So you have chosen to take an interest in your brother’s pursuits after all?” she asks, evading his question for the moment.

Cyril rests his hands on the table and says, "Yes, I have. Such an interesting topic, too, don't you think?" He smiles and tilts his head, saying, "You seem to be dancing around the issue at hand, Miss Diderot."

“Why do you think the Ambassador would have any opinion on the matter?” Rhyeline asks him softly. “As an ambassador, he maintains strict neutrality when it comes to the political conflicts within our nation. He is concern only with our international interests. Please don’t mistake my fascination for the debate with his.”

Cyril peers at her coldly and says, "Hrmmm, fair enough, then." He drums his fingertips along the tabletop and says, "I shall have to seek him out and ask him myself. He seems to be a fairly interesting fellow from the way you speak about him."

The last remnants of her soft smile fade as Rhyeline meets the man’s cold gaze. “I am merely sharing with you the answer he gave me when I ventured to ask after his personal opinion,” she murmurs, lowering her gaze to the cup of coffee held in both her hands.

Cyril nods to her and says, "Oh, do not worry, Miss Diderot. You have not offended me in any manner. You've simply stood in the way of my curiosity." He rubs at his chin and stands up, saying, "I must go attend to some things. Enjoy the remainder of your day."

Lifting her gaze once more to him, Rhyeline gives a subtle nod. Though the painful shyness of her earlier manner as well as the subtle haunted look to her eyes has returned as strong as when he first noticed her, she murmurs rather softly, “Of course. Perhaps I will see you tomorrow night for the debate your brother is to attend.”

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