"That's true," Adon nodded, conceeding a point to Briggs. It was about to be Adon: 1, Briggs: 0, however."Couldn't have been your wand. From your file, looks like you're clever enough not to go about casting spells around volatile substances. You've clearly learned your stuff, working with Sellaphix, yeh?" He leaned back in a chair. "Could sure use the help of a man like you. Seem to have learned a fair bit about dangerous venoms and regulated substances."

There was the question of why Maggie might have been there--but that was likely questions to ask Maggie, when they found her. As for finding her, it was apparent that Briggs was not working collaboratively with Cinaéd. Meaning that it was also apparent that this interview was no longer for the purpose of recovering Maggie. The hitwizards would need to work with Raynor and Radley on that one.

He was quiet a moment before finally saying, "Because clearly, Briggs, you knew what was in the box, if you knew not to fire your wand. Maggie didn't know what was in the box, but you did."

For a moment, Nate felt that gentle satisfaction that he'd been underestimated.  At least the Auror was finally seeing who he was dealing with.  Nate sat back in the chair again and uncrossed his arms.  He stared straight on.  He had this in the bag.

All that was left was to dump this all on Sellaphix and be on his way.  Give Cinaed as much heat as possible and try and get out of this with some light jail time.

He did take care to comment that, "Sellaphix is a blow-hard and a miser.  That rotter didn't teach me anything I didn't learn for myself.  Not as if the information's hard to come by if you've got half a brain, and I've got both."

There was a quiet moment after that, and Nate was waiting for Auror Eleor to sigh, rub his hands together and arrange for his holding cell.  But he didn't.

"Because clearly, Briggs, you knew what was in the box, if you knew not to fire your wand. Maggie didn't know what was in the box, but you did."

Nate bit the inside of his lip and blinked his eyes slowly, trying to control the Oh Shit Face that he had coming.  He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again, giving a hateful glance at the Auror he'd underestimated.

"I didn't-," he started, his breathing ramping up again.  His story was based on Wrong Place Wrong Time Don't Kill the Messanger, but that fizzled up like burned skin when he'd just fecking admitted to knowing full well what was going on all night.

He rolled his eyes, his mind working working working on a solution.  He knew that every second he wasted not responding just killed his credibility more and more.

"I want a deal.  I can give you Sellaphix if you can get me off the hook.  Mate," he raised his eyebrows, trying to look causual, in control.  But they both knew the score.

Auror: 1, Briggs: none.

"Sellaphix has more than venom," he said.  "Bigger bust, the Old Man."

"Two for two, Briggs," Adon said, nodding in admiration of his brains. "I'm impressed. Clever bloke." His smile grew a touch ironic as he waited for the realisation to sink in.

Ah. Theeere. The promise of Sellaphix was predictable. It was also completely unhelpful. Sellaphix was dirtier than a coal miner's fingernails. Warrants secured -- which they were -- would ensure compelling evidence.

"Bigger stuff?" Adon replied dubiously. "We've got a warrant out for him already. We'll be searching the warehouses any moment--" he paused significantly. "If we haven't already done so. You're a stock boy. I'm sure you know the inventory better than anyone. But we can have that ourselves." He sat down once more on the chair, looking at Briggs levelly.

"Names. Vendors. Buyers. Origins. Destinations. You have that sort of information, Briggs?" He looked towards the door. In a moment, Hills could call in another Auror to act as witness to this confession. Nate might have let the cat out of the bag tonight, but Adon'd have it in by this morning.

Morning. The very thought made him exhausted. And cranky. This had better be worth something, and it had better be worth something quick. "Hill!" he called, not over-loud. The assistant was standing on hand. "Coffee. And another water for this gentleman." He raised his eyebrows at Briggs as Hill closed the door once more. "So."

If Nate never saw Adon Eleor so smugly satisfied again, it'd be too soon.  Every little grin on that Auror's arrogant face, every chiding little comment in that accent of his, rankled Briggs to the point of raw contempt.  He was getting played.  He shifted his weight in his seat, shifting his burned shoulder to a more comfortable position so the bandages weren't rubbing anymore.  He couldn't help but think things would have been much different if the Aurors hadn't had the advatage of being allowed to shoot spells at him, drag him off, threaten him with prison and all that.  Battle of wits, or whatever this was, was unmatched, but only because Nate didn't have a bazooka.

Nate knew Mr Auror was bluffing, so that was comforting.  The Sellaphixes had kept their heads plenty well down for three generations.  They weren't dirty enough to get any real attention.  They vetted their clients very well and the only reason, in Nate's opinion, it was all crashing down now, is because Sellaphix had gotten greedy and jumped onto the Runespoor game.  It was just too hot. 

Course, the Sellaphixes weren't completely innocent, not by a long shot.  They supported buyers and black marketeers who were in the business of hurting and exploiting people.  And even of Old Sellaphix wasn't a violent man himself, his hands were dirty. 

They were good people though.  And Nate had to admit to himself he was feeding them to the manticore not for some sense of justice, but to save his own skin.

"All of it," he said after a moment, firmly and boldly.  Sellaphix kept good books, you just had to know how to read them.  And most of their clients were delivery, so they also had addresses for the owls.

"I've got sodding all of that, mate.  But I want to walk out of here.  Today. I want whatever trafficking or possession or vandalism or whathaveya bullshit charges you're thinking gone.  I'm a witness.  If I'm a witness, I've got it.  If I'm a suspect, I might not."

"All" sounded wonderful. Adon didn't believe it. Nothing since coming to England had been easy. He had forgotten what a break looked like. But it seemed he was getting one.

No, Adon didn't buy it. But he'd hold Briggs accountable for his words. He'd already done it once.

"I think we can do that. I'm holding you to it, Briggs." He moved towards the door, where he knew Hills was waiting. He tapped twice. Hills, a storkish young man of about twenty who had not yet gotten over his acne, looked at both, taking in the postures.

"Need a witness?" he asked.

Adon tilted his head back and forth, noncommittally. "Sort of. No confessions. Mister Briggs here is our witness. We'd like to get a little agreement written up. Quill and parchment." Hills nodded and began to close the door.

"And," Adon added in an urgent undertone, "get a hold of Aurors Radley or Raynor? I'd like to know the status of the hostage situation, and what information they might need to speed that along."

Hills nodded once more. The door clicked shut and Adon straightened, clearing his chest of stale air. "Well, Briggs," he sighed, refusing to call the man by anything other than that, though Briggs had taken a fancy to using "mate." That would need to stop, soon. "After you've given what you've promised, you're free to go; we may, as a witness, like to call you in with any further questions." He looked at the man levelly. "Do you agree to this?"

This time, Nate wasn't as unnerved by the Auror's apparent pleasure; after all, Nate had just promised him what he should want.  A clean bust.  He shrugged as if it was all no big deal, like bringing a bottle of wine to a party.  No trouble. Glad to do it. 

The spotty clerk came when beckoned and the Auror went about calling for the proper materials - quill and parchment.  Nate hid a private twinge of nervousness.  Was he expected to just start writing...? Now? Just off the top of his head? But he exhaled and put it from his mind.  This wasn't a confession - this was a stool pigeon gig.  He and the Auror had made a deal.

When Eleor added that Hills should get an update on Maggie, Nate leaned forward on the table and leaned to watch the young clerk through the gap in the closing door.  What was was going on by now.  It was strange to think that at this very moment, poor nosy-arse Groust was tangling who knows where with loose-hinge Tawse.  It was worrying.

He gritted his teeth behind his lips and shifted in his chair as they waited for Hills to return.

Distracted as he was with thoughts of Maggie again, he had to tune back into the Auror's accented voice.

"Hm?" He raised his eyebrows, focusing again on the other wizard.

"I'm good for it.  You'll get a damn promotion from this inteview.  I'm a witness. I let the cat out of the bag. I walk.  Do we shake on it, or what?" he asked, gesturing with a hand.  "Do I sign something? I'm gorram tired."

Adon took a deep breath, considering Nate's question. Nate had been difficult, but really, when all was said and done, it had taken only approximately 40 minutes to get a true story out of him. No, a promise of a true story out of him. “You write. If you agree to it. ‘I, Nathan Briggs,’” a moment was spared to relish satisfaction; to think, only an hour ago the man was trying to deny that fundamental claim. How far they’d come. They'd need to go further. He paused, looking down at Briggs' hands, bandaged and still sore, he was certain, from the runespoor venom.

A slight twinge, a passing emotion, crossed his face as he shifted the parchment on the table over in his direction, taking the quill in hand himself. He continued speaking seamlessly, “--'upon condition of release and drop of all charges against me at this time, do swear to provide Auror Eleor and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement with all names of vendors and buyers,” he waited for his fingers to catch up with his mouth, the sound of a scraping nib upon paper. “--points of origin and destination, and supply store of Mr. Sellaphix’s business.” He looked up before adding, “I likewise agree,” he put the quill down, “to visit Margaret Groust, once found. At which time, Auror Eleor really prefers some type of apology be in order."

The door swung open suddenly. Hills. Adon waited expectantly. When the clerk hesitated, Adon drew nearer. "Auror Raynor has gone after Cinaed Tawse."

"By herself?" he asked, getting a nod in agreement.

Adon's expression darkened. Hills seemed to be waiting, as though Adon could do anything about this. "Fine, I guess," he stated, shaking his head as he rejoined Briggs. He glanced down at the parchment to see if it'd been signed yet. "They've gone after Tawse; if you have any information on specific whereabouts, Briggs, we'd be obliged."

There it was again.  Something about the Auror's motions and bearing seemed to suggest he thought he was better than Nate.  Nate's nostrils flared in a hidden scowl - the only bloody reason Auror Eleor was able to take top bunk was that wand and badge of his and the whole fleet of the Ministry behind him.  He was an appendige of a giant machine and if he thought that was worth being smug about, more power to him. 

Prideful Nathan couldn't wait to get back to Daz so they could have a pint (or ten) and make plans to poison this joker.  Merlin, he wanted to sleep.

Whatever ire these two wizards harbored for one another, Nate was damn relieved with Auror Eleor took up the parchment himself and began to dictate as he wrote out their agreement.  He sat back in his chair and scratched absently at his bandaged arm, as he listened.  For a moment, a split-second, he had the compulsion to halt the Auror, doubting his ability to actually deliver; when you said it like that, comprehensively, Nate wasn't sure anymore if he could actually follow through.  But he pushed  the notion to recant from his mind - things were moving forward in the direction he wanted.  Outahere.

"Oh, hell n-!" At the mention of apologizing to Maggie Groust, he'd animated suddenly to protest.  Damn golly Auror just throwing his weight around - it hadn't been his damn fault.

But the door opened with more intensity than yet before and their little buddy looked haunted.  Nate craned his neck to see past Eleor to hear what was going on.

He hadn't touched the parchment or quill yet.  He just shook his head in frustration.  In all of this, the one thing he couldn't seem to convince the Auror of was that, "I'm not bloody chums with Tawse! I haven't the foggiest idea what that hingey madman's got in his head.  I told you that."

He swiped up the quill and made his mark on the parchment.  He didn't care what the hell it said anymore because it was his ticket out of here.  He rose from his seat quickly and walked around the table, to Eleor's side where the door was, fully expecting the other wizard to stand up, let him out and escort him to the Atrium where he could get topside and walk home.

As Briggs irascibly signed on the line on the parchment, Adon gave another nod. "Rest up," he said. "See what you can find out about that information, and I'll be in touch." He reached for the handle. "Hm," he added, hesitating as he regarded Briggs attempt to downplay any possibility of collusion between Tawse and himself.

Even if Briggs and Tawse had been friends, he doubted they would be after this little caper.  His wife seemed to be, however, excessively chummy with the man.  Dazmond Weidman's meddling and open attack on three Aurors had not gone unnoticed. He wondered if Briggs even knew about it.  And certainly something for the files. Something else to consider to keep Briggs in line. Adon glanced back at the man.

"Well, let's get your paperwork signed off for discharge," he said. Stepping through the doorway, he snapped Hills over, signed a form, and tucked the clipboard under his arm. "Ready?"

Finally they were moving.  Nate's mind had begun to process what he'd get up to as soon as he left.  It wasn't a short walk back to Knockturn so all bandaged up and shirtless as he was he'd benefit from some sort of Confudus, but his wounds gnashed at the thought.  It'd have to be a magic-free loaner jacket or nothing.  And back at the Sodding Arms was a busted down door, trashed apartment and the possible presence of a murderously pissed off Ex-Azzie.  Merlin, would he ever sleep?  At least he wasn't going to prison like Cinaed Tawse would be - that was his only really pleasent thought.

And that was why he was so chaffed when that damn Auror dallied at the door, after he'd made every motion that Nate could be on his way.  Nate's expression shared every nuance of his vexation.  Mincy Hills got a similar glare.

"Maybe you've got all day, but I've got business to sort out," he said brushing past the Auror through the door.  The corridor wasn't very long, but Nate was more turned around than he expected he would be and was somewhat disoriented for just a moment.  It made the nagging feeling that he'd not find his way out of here at all grow just a size larger.

In a few moments they were out of the short corridor and out on the wide open Auror floor.   All those bastards in their red robes, all in one place was as disconcerting as it was over an hour ago.

He stood awkardly near a tall desk, his arms crossed gently over his bandanged chest.  "So what - you'll just swing 'round sometime tomorrowish?"  Not that Nate or Dazmond would be happy having their gentlemen callers knock them up again, but he sure as hell didn't want to see the inside of Level Two again for a long time.

"Oh. Didn't realise you were working on a tight schedule," Adon said, testily before giving a forced smile. "If you wait a moment, we can get this," he held up the paper Nate had signed, "MOC filed away and your permissions granted. Hills!" he called, looking around. Hills, in a moment, was at his elbow.

Adon waved his hand dismissively to Briggs' last question. He handed over the paper, a memo of cooperation, to Hills. "MOC for you. ASAP. And we'll need the contents of your second drawer."

Hills stopped and frowned. "All of it? It's not much."

"Yes." Adon's voice had a hard edge to it.

Hills seemed, remarkably, unconvinced by Adon's insistent tone. "Why?"

"Because I am starving."

"Auror Eleor, I have the MOC to turn in. And I don't think that's a suitable reason for--"

Adon sighed and, placing his hand on the young man's shoulderblade, pivoted him 180 degrees so that he was facing away from both Adon and Briggs. So that the young man was directed towards his own desk.  "Go, go! Before I write you up for impeding the process. Turn in the MOC on your way back! I've been up since yesterday morning and am hungry!" The words themselves were redundant; Adon's irascible tone made his grouchiness, if not its cause, vastly apparent. 

With a sigh, the intern headed over to his desk. Adon didn't look back at Briggs; if he had, he would have cast a longsuffering glance at the man, who he was fairly certain would have just told him to sod off anyhow.

Hills returned with two apples and a sandwich. He was no longer carrying the paper which he and Nate had signed.

"My hero, Hills," Adon said as he snatched the offering.

"Thought you should know that that's my lunch, though. . ." Hills grumbled feebly as Adon peeled away the wrapping and took a bite from the sandwich.

"Hills, your mother is --" he paused in his chewing a moment to watch Hills visibly flinch. Adon was known for "your mother" jokes. And "that's what she said." And generally jokes that, whether actually amusing or no, were formulaic and a little off-colour. He grinned once he'd swallowed, "--an excellent cullinarian. My regards."

"My mum didn't make that," Hills, once more feebly, protested.

Adon nodded knowingly saying, "Well, I'll buy your 'mum'-- or whoever -- a replacement lunch then at the Atrium, once Briggs is homefree." He glanced back at the man, handing him one of the apples.  "Let's get you out of here, hm?"

Adon pushed on the glass doors that lead in and out of Level Two and waved to a still-watching Hills. He shifted his attention back to Briggs. "Okay. Just got to wait for the clearance from the Boss, but we can do that as well in the entry."

Away from Hills.

By the time Adon had reached the entry, the sandwich was gone. "Wait here," he told Briggs, pointing to a bench that lined the wall by the entryway. Adon ambled over to the security desk, where hitwizards in uniform were asking for wizards' and witches' wands upon entry. Adon leaned against the desk. "'Lo, fellas," Adon greeted with the same shit-eating smile he adopted when talking to hitwizards. They got on pretty well, particularly since recently, lacking a partner, he'd been working closely with several of them.

"Where's Clayton?"

Adon shrugged. "Taking a nap or something. After the arrest, it's been a bit of a cakewalk. He's compliant, so we're sending him on his merry way." Adon jabbed a thumb back over his shoulder in Nate's general direction.

The hitwizards both craned their neck to get a look at the man. "You got the MOC?"

"It's coming," Adon said, nodding. "Speaking of. . ." he said, noting a paper airplane arriving with the traditional red scrawl of Level Two.  Adon took a bite from his apple and munched merrily. He had been up for almost thirty hours now. In one more, he could sleep.

One of the hitwizards reached out to read it. "Not an MOC. . ." the man said, voice distant as he skimmed the document.

Adon's mouth, opened wide for another bite from the apple, froze there. The hitwizards looked at him expectantly. Adon lowered the apple to the desk, closed his mouth. "What," he said darkly. He thrust his hand out. "Let me see."

"Says he's needed back up at Level 2 for further questioning."

"Like hell!" Adon stated, resonantly, in indignation. He glanced back over at Briggs. If they ticked this kid off, milking information from him would be that much more difficult. He let loose a dark, whispered stream of gutteral Hebrew curses and oaths as he jerked the paper back from one of the hitwizards, who was still trying to read it. "I'll deal with this."

He marched back to Briggs, countenance stormy.

"You forgot your apple!" one of the hitwizards called. There was the sound of chortling.

"Go to hell!" he barked back, not bothering to take his eyes off from Briggs.

"There's been a bit of a hiccup."

f-words ahead!

MOCs, permissions, paperwork, redtape.  What the hell ever.  For all their eagerness to fire spells around willy nilly and work quick to get him here, it sure was a convient sticky-ass bog to get out.  He leaned against the desk and watch Eleor head off with his paperwork, and wondered why Briggs had to hang around while it was processed.  They had the signature that mattered anyway right? And they certainly weren't shy about getting in touch.  He sighed and closed his eyes.  He had half a mind to show himself out.  Or just sleep right here.

It was pain to open his eyes - he'd nearly blinked out.  Eleor was there with an apple and what actually seemed like genuine interest in getting this whole thing finished off, and Nate back home where he belonged, away from this surreal situation.  He remembered again that Maggie Groust might still be with Tawse, hopefully all in one piece.

He took the apple, and as soon as he smelled it, realized he was ravenous.  Trying to not look too grateful, he went about munching on it.  It seemed with the reanimation of his innards, the rest of him got a second wind.  Things were looking up.  He had a deal. An apple. And was on his way back to normal life.

Eleor's bright manner was still somewhat surprising. He'd been all snark and shit in the interrogation room, and suddenly he was Mister Customer Service.  'Let's just sort you out, for you.'  'Have a seat' and all that.  Complementary, in-flight apples.  He took the bench and the moment to finish his breakfast, watching Adon chum up with some Hitwizards.

He munched with his eyes shut.

But raised voices brought him to and he looked up to see Eleor yell and come stomping over.  Immediately, Nate was on his feet, demanding to know what was going on.

"What is it? What's going on.  I'm getting out of here, right?"  But Eleor's face said everything.

"Hiccup?! What the fuck are you talking about.  You said I was out.  I signed that fucking confession, damnit!" Nate shouted at Eleor and the smirking Hitwizards by the security desk.

"Tell them, you two-faced arsehole! Tell them that I'm done! You know what? Fuck this!"

With that, Briggs pushed past Eleor and strode quickly and with the purpose and determination of a tornado, past the desk and towards the doors.

But he didn't get far at all.  He thought he heard Eleor shout something, but he didn't stop.  Instead, the hitwizards had jumped to action, probably eager to do something other than wrangle flocks of memos at boring desk duty.  The first stunning spell when past his head, but the second nailed him square in the back. 

***

When he came to, he was back in an interrogation room, hands bound behind him, and his head on the table.  His wounds had fresh bandages on them but they were still gnawing like a sonofabitch.

He sat himself up to see Auror Eleor. 

"Well that was fun," he said, smartass to smartass.

"Hiccup?! What the fuck are you talking about."

"Apparently, the--"

Briggs wasn't done. " You said I was out."

"It's just a mist--" Adon cut himself off, testily, sneering at the man who was bellowing like a red-faced sow.

Still going. "I signed that fucking confession, damnit!"

"BRIGGS!" Adon Eleor bellowed. "You are done talking, now!" He'd snap this kid in two if this didn't stop.

"Tell them, you two-faced arsehole! Tell them that I'm done!" That's what he had said! Briggs was done. Damn-god-damned done.

Adon grit his teeth. He cracked his jaw. "Look," he hissed with emphasis. "You listen, or --"

"You know what? Fuck this!" Whatever Nathan Briggs was doing, he was not listening.

"BRIGGS!" Adon snapped as he shouldered past, roughly. Adon turned to seize the man's shoulder, interlock feet, and land the man flat on his stomach. But by the time Adon'd reached out for the shoulder, Briggs was already on the ground.

Adon glanced back over his shoulder to see the two hitwizards from the guard desk moving forwards. "You're welcome one said to him as he moved forward, also brushing past Adon with an air of insubordination that Adon would have penalised the ass for if he'd been in the IDF. The hitwizard knelt on the ground to bind his hands.

"I can handle an unconscious witness, thank you," Adon snapped back.

"Can you?" the second hitwizard asked, keeping his wand traced on the unconscious figure of Briggs. "Looks like you handled him conscious just fine."

Without hesitation, Adon reached out, snapped the man's wrist outward, rotated, bent the elbow up, drove his thumb into the flesh of his palm to keep the hand pinned back, and listened to the sound of falling wood onto granite. "Yes. I can. Now get back to your desk. People are beginning to stare."

The hitwizard restraining Nathan Briggs had finally accomplished his job, it seemed, and stood to see his partner disarmed, staring murderously into the Auror's face. "C'mon," he said, bending over to pick up the wand and hand it back to his partner. Together, they both returned to the desk, casting several dark glances back to the Auror.

Adon suspected he wouldn't be hanging around the desk for break-time chats any longer. With a sigh, he looked down at Briggs, knelt down and draped the man over his shoulder. Briggs needed to lose some weight. He doubted the man'd even thank him for carrying him, sans-magic, all the way through the Ministry to his god-damned holding cell.

Swinging by the desk, Adon reached his hand out and snatched the apple. With the most ill-spirit he could muster, he bit into the apple, eyes locked on the hitwizards for several chews before he turned away, shifting Briggs' deadweight a bit on his shoulder.

Adon was mercifully out of sight by the time his shoulder had been exhausted and he needed to resituated Briggs onto the other shoulder. It was, needless to say, a non-triumphal entry through the glass doors of Level Two. Adon walked by Hills' desk, near reception, dropping the now polished apple core onto it. Worthless.

~~~~~~~~~
When Briggs finally came to, awkwardly slumped in his seat, Adon was perched on the edge of the metal table, feet set atop a chair, finishing up the sandwich. He was going to split it with Briggs. No more. Bastard.

"Well that was fun."

"Good morning, sweetheart," he greeted. "Looks like you've got upwards of two weeks of fun in store." He grinned. "Hope you liked the apple."

Nate felt groggy and his skin hurt - right, yes.  Runespoor burns.  He'd momentarily had the pleasure of forgetting about those ugly mars on his very pretty arms.

Sweetheart?  Nate responded to the pet name with a genuinely surprised and queasy expression.  The Auror was too easy to hate, but too much of a smartass to really despise.  He'd stick to hating him.  But tied up wizards always hated whoever tied them up and Nate was pretty damn uncomfortable with his arms pinned behind him, no wand and no way to change any of that.  He'd rather ruined any of his leverage when he'd panicked back there.

He coughed.  "Two weeks what?" he asked, concern blatantly coloring his voice.  "I can't stay here for two weeks...  Is that from before or after my attempted exodus?" 

Maybe it was the head fog, the lack of sleep, or just the pea-soup of a legal system that was based on old Goat Law, but Nate couldn't make it all add up.  Had he or had he not wormed his way out of Azkaban?  What was this two weeks and where did it come from? And what the hell time was it anyway?  And how much longer was he going to get to spend with his new boyfriend here?  Eleor was sitting there smug with a very good-looking sandwich, looking like he got a freaking medal since he last saw him.

He sighed.  "What are you so happy about? You get a bonus for shooting me twice, sweetheart? Tawse turn himself in?"

He couldn't decide if he hoped they'd caught Cinaed Tawse or not: Cinaed knew enough to get Nate jammed up rather nicely.  But Cinaed also knew where Maggie Groust was - which was still a concern.