| Details for Ignoring Caution |
| Summary: | When Rhyeline was visiting favorite shop in Verdic Alley, Cyril Malfoy happens to drop in. In a quiet corner behind rows of books, the man reveals that though he shouldn't do a great many things, that hasn't ever stopped him before. |
| Date: | Saturday, December 22, 1937 |
| Location: | Fox's Treatises and Rarities |
| Related: | — |
| Characters |
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It is a winter morning. The weather is cold and clear.
Fox's Treatises and Rarities
Although small and cramped, there's nothing dark or dank about this tiny bookshop. The shelves are neatly organized and always free of dust and cobwebs, featherdusters constantly making the rounds to keep them that way. None of the books are easily available in Flourish and Blott's, as the owner specializes in old, rare, and very hard to find texts. The rarest are kept behind the counter, the showpiece being a first edition copy of 'Ephemeris of Bryn yr Ellyllon,' by Gwalltafwyn Snowdon, dating back to the Sixteenth Century. Also behind the counter is a comfortable easy chair and a nice fireplace, usually kept burning during business hours, with a cauldron hook, just in case the proprietor should desire to make a cup of tea. A door there leads to the back of the shop as well.
With clear skies and the ground covered in new-fallen snow from the night before, there is a feeling of untouched purity to the streets of Verdic Alley. Hidden away from the chill of the morning air, Rhyeline wanders slowly through the stacks of her favorite shop. A warm cup of coffee is held in her hands. It’s a proper cup, not something she got ‘to-go’ from a nearby shop.
Cyril steps into the bookshop, as it's one of his frequent stops when he's feeling particularly bored. Which nowadays is pretty much all the time. No job and no woman can lead a man to the brink of insanity. Especially a man like Cyril. He sighs softly as the smell of old books floods his nostrils and he approaches one of the stacks, eager to pick through the various volumes.
Rhyeline pauses as she hears the sound of the door opening. The shop assistant behind the counter nods and greets him. “Good morning, sir. May I help you?” While the new arrival speaks with the shop assistant, the girl approaches and peeks out from behind a bookshelf to see who it is. Catching sight of Cyril, she blinks. It has been some time since she has encountered him and a bookshop wasn’t the first place she expected to run into him.
Cyril turns to smile at the assistant, sayng, "Oh, no thank you. I'm simply having a look around." With that taken care of he goes to do just what he said, but look up as he feels someone looking up at him and locks those golden eyes of his with Rhyeline, "Oh, hello there, Diderot."
Rhyeline moves to half hide behind the bookshelf, peeking out at him. “Hello, Mr. Malfoy,” she murmurs. “How are you?”
Cyril smirks at her and says, "Well, for one I'm dreadfully offended as you've gone and tucked yourself behind a bookcase instead of standing in front of me to have a conversation. I didn't realize that I was that frightening."
Rhyeline flushes. Clinging to the cup of coffee, holding it close to herself, she emerges from behind the bookshelf and moves to stand before him. Bowing her head, she dips into a little curtsy. “Forgive me. I did not mean to offend.”
Cyril smirks even more and says, "I suppose I could forgive you this time, Rhyeline." He turns to pull a book from the shelf, flipping it open and skimming his way through it as he says, "So, tell me, what have you been getting into?"
Rhyeline shrugs. “Mm. Life has been quiet. There isn’t much to tell. Though. I have been trying to improve my skills at dueling. That is something, perhaps. And yourself?” Bringing her cup of coffee to her lips, she takes a slow sip as she peeks up at him from over the brim.
Cyril raises his eyebrows at her mention of dueling and says, "Oh, you have? You really must show me what you're like on the floor sometime." Double entendre! He stuffs the book back where he got it and says, "Oh, not much. I've got an interview in a few days with the curator of the British museum. Hope to see about finding some work there."
The double entendre seems to go right over the little one’s head (not hard to do). Rhyeline merely nods although the assistant behind the counter has brought up a hand to hide a smile. He understands. “I remember you mentioned you were going to work for the museum. I’m glad to hear you got an interview. That is the hardest bit, no? Especially for you. The interview should be easy.”
Cyril nods to her and says, "Yes. I imagine everything will go quite well. Shouldn't be too hard to convince him of my merit when I flash all the things I've discovered in front of him." He clasps his hands behind his back and says, "I trust your work is treating you well?"
Rhyeline nods, a soft smile touching her lips. “Yes, sir. It treats me well.” Lowering her gaze to the coffee in her hands. “The storm is building. The news is never good. But. At the same time, that keeps me busy, which I prefer.”
Cyril nods to her, "Yes, well. It's a shame I'm not going into a business in which I'd need an assistant, because I would quite quickly snatch you up if things went South for you." He pats her on the arm as he moves past her on his way to the next row of books.
Rhyeline blinks at such a suggestion. Slowly following him down the row of books, she lingers a few steps away and murmurs, “What do you mean- go south for me?”
Cyril shrugs and says, "Well, if the trial goes badly, of course. I imagine you'd be quite out of a job if your boss ended up incarcerated." He plucks another book down and begins to flip through it, "I do wish him the best of luck, of course."
Rhyeline’s hands tighten around the cup of coffee. Though she tries to keep her features neutral, her gaze betrays how his words have unsettled her. “It shouldn’t go badly. He was acting in defense. The ones he harmed- they were trying to harm me.”
Cyril nods and says, "Of course." He decides to hold further comment on the matter, instead saying, "So, what were you looking for today in the shop? Anything in particular?"
Rhyeline bites her lower lip before letting the matter rest. Shaking her head, she lifts her gaze to the books. “No. I just like it here.” She holds the coffee cup closer to her chest.
Cyril nods to her, "Yes, the atmosphere of a bookstore is rather soothing, isn't it?" He tucks the book he's holding back in the shelf and turns to face her, his eyes looking her up and down in an unrestricted manner.
A soft smile touches the girl’s lips as the man seems to share her appreciation for the reassuring peace of a room full of books. But when he turns and observes her delicate form with such unveiled interest, a vulnerable look of caution emerges in her dark gaze.
This morning, she wears a pale rose dress which brings out the blush of her cheeks. This particular dress hugs her upper body tight before flowing down just past her knees. The dark brown cardigan isn’t enough to conceal how narrow her waist is, which only emphasizes the curve of her hips. The swell of her young breasts is subtle. It seems as if she must have stopped growing when she was about fourteen. She looks younger than she is.
Cyril sniffs a bit when he's finished his appraisal of the young woman and says, "You're a very attractive woman, you know. If not a bit small." He slides his hands into his pockets and once again levels his eyes on her face, saying, "Definitely a catch."
Rhyeline isn’t sure why he is suddenly saying such things. Sidling closer to the books on her right, she gazes up at him with such shy caution. Not knowing how to react at all, the girl keeps quiet for the moment.
Cyril raises his eyebrows and says, "I suppose you're not used to being hit on by handsome men in bookstores, then?" He smirks a bit and looks back to the books for a moment, pondering something.
Rhyeline hesitates before shaking her head. “No, sir.”
Cyril chuckles softly and says, "But then again I don't imagine you often end up with handsome men in bookstores." He looks back to her, sniffing a bit and awaiting a response.
At first the girl just remains silent, but when she realizes he is waiting for a response, she blinks and holds her cup of coffee close to her chest. “No, sir. Not- not that I speak to at least.” Lowering her gaze, she shifts a bit before she peeks back up at him.
Cyril smirks and reaches up to pat her on the arm, saying, "It's a shame, Rhyeline. We really must break you of your shy demeanor. I imagine there's something much more…passionate beneath that meek exterior."
Rhyeline presses her elbows tight to her sides as she clings to the cup of coffee. The deepest blush warms her cheeks and the vulnerability of her dark gaze seems to deepen. The girl takes a tiny step to the side, but finds her shoulder touching the edge of a shelf. Her dark gaze flits to the books next to her and then back up at him. The shy creature seems rather nervous indeed, not sure what to.
Cyril grins wolfishly and says, "You seem ever so worried about something, Miss Diderot." He reaches up to cup her face face and smirks at her, leaning down to brush his lips softly against hers.
Rhyeline’s gaze widens as he draws closer. With her back to the bookcase, she tries to take a small step to the side, but the hand he places upon her cheek, keeps her from moving that way any further. Her breaths come sharp and quick as she stares up at him, transfixed by the wolfish smile. At the gentle kiss, a soft squeak escapes the innocent creature. “Please. You- you shouldn’t.”
Cyril smirks and says, "I know that I shouldn't. I shouldn't do a great many things, but that hardly ever stops me." He keeps his face close to hers, the dark, warm scent of his cologne wafting from his neck and chest.
Rhyeline’s breath comes faint and shallow as she stares up at him, ensnared by his piercing golden gaze. Her lips part as she tries to find words that would warn him away, but the promise of possible danger doesn’t seem like it would deter him either. In fact, it might only encourage him. These thoughts seem written in her eyes and in the end, she remains silent save for her soft, sharp little breaths.
Cyril brushes his lips against hers again and they linger there for a bit longer this time before he says, "Tell me, Ryheline. What is it that keeps you so quiet…so docile? You're around men of politics and action all day…and yet you remain a meek, harmless little mouse."
Rhyeline’s breath catches when he brushes another kiss to her lips. Between their bodies, the girl continues to cling to her cup of coffee. Closing her eyes, a sharp little breath escapes her. When at last, he draws back to look at her once more, he will see how flushed her lips have grown. Peeking up at him, she parts them to speak. It takes a moment for her to find words, but at last she murmurs, “It’s my nature.”
Cyril smirks at how much he's affected the poor girl. It really is his bread and butter to torment people. He strokes her face softly with his thumb and says, "How very endearing." He finally removes his hand from the girl's face and slides it into his pocket, watching her.
Rhyeline’s eyes close as his hand strokes the soft flesh of her cheek. But then as he withdraws his hand, she peeks up at him. For the moment, she remains backed up against the shelves.
Cyril clears his throat and tosses another wolfish grin her way before saying, "Well, I suppose I should be going. Do come and see me if you need anything, Diderot." He pats her arm and slips past her, smirking in devilish content.
Rhyeline remains right where she is as he slips past her down the row of books. Long after the shop’s door has opened and closed, the girl stands with her arms folded tight against herself, holding the cup of coffee in her hands, and trying to regain her calm.