"They've gone official on Reid," Vedir observed, with an air of casual interest. He folded up the Daily Prophet. It had been a few days since he'd sat to read it; this had been a busy month on both sides of the legal divide. With Rippringham-Gomfrey having gotten himself turned inside out, the other Elders were firing letters over who'd be next. Vedir didn't much care, truth be told. He hadn't had a hand in any of it, and so while he followed the case with interest, it was ultimately of only casual interest 'til it effected him.

"Indeed, sir," was the reply.

Placing the paper aside, he looked to his left; his butler stood there with the polite air he'd learned to adopt oh-so-well. It was just after breakfast, and the grand dining table sat covered in dirty dishes, awaiting Vedir's departure so the servants and elves could descend and clean up. This was fine by him, as he had the morning's appointment to get to.

Piano music echoed softly through the mansion's halls as he strode to the foyer, hands behind his back. Casual demeanor or not, he was not entirely pleased with how things had been going recently. With luck, the men he would be seeing today could do something about that. Well, one of them, anyway. Grey so far had proven useful not not particularly effective. Morgan..remained to be seen.

"Send Misters Grey and Morgan to the study when they arrive," he said, and headed there himself, cigarette already lit.

Landis strolled down the walk towards Hasard Hall for the second time that summer. He was no less collected than he'd been the first time, but he was considerably more prepared. After the initial proposition, he'd taken some time to wrap up a few loose ends, get his affairs together, attack an Ministry-sanctioned organization.... and he'd thought, while he'd done so, of Prideaux's offer. It had come with a considerable carrot, but Landis had first to decide if he could live with the string.

A visit to an old acquaintance had helped solidify his position. Vedir had directed him to one of his employees, Alistair Grey, and Landis had willingly gone. It was a clever move on Prideaux' part to send him to a man Landis had known for years, whose opinion he could - almost - trust. In a world full of fools, Grey had always been refreshingly and intelligently vitriolic; while he hardly dripped compliments for his new employer, neither did he seem more sullen than usual about the arrangement. Landis took this to mean that the pay was fantastic.

He was still spinning out a few plots for the WBA, but they were mostly long-term. A few threatening letters, a package or two, though after St. Mungo's he was mostly lying low. There was no reason, when Vedir's summons had come via owl, for Landis not to answer. A month had been more than enough time for him to formulate an answer.

He was led into a study, currently empty. Landis kept his arms loose near his sides (and his wand) out of habit, sharp gaze scouring the glossy desk and dark wood with disdain. It was an impressively sleek room, but like so many things about Vedir it exuded showy wealth.

Alistair looked worse off than normal - if that was possible. His usually messy hair was a tangled mess, his clothing wrinkled, dirty and torn, and his shoes worn down. He looked thinner than usual, too, though Alistair dropping weight wasn't anything that new.

The last week or so had not been a kind one to the young Alchemist. His shop was - well, it wasn't gone, exactly. The fire had just taken out his living space and most of the shop's front. Prideaux had been kind enough to step up and lend a hand, and it was already being repaired...but Alistair knew that was only because Prideaux didn't want to lose the valuable tunnels underneath it. No doubt the shop would rise again, but Alistair was keenly aware that his chances of truly getting it back were slim. Prideaux had plans for him, apparently, and he had yet to be told what they were.

He'd been useful, he knew that. His experiments and potions had aided Prideaux, and so he could cling to that as hope he wasn't about to conveniently disappear. When he stumbled up the steps to the study he was not, then, in the best of moods - not that that was exactly out of the usual, either.

He certainly wasn't expecting Landis. He opened the study door and nearly ran into the other man, jerking back with wide, sunken eyes. "Morgan," he said, with a terseness of tone that was actually politer than the usual sneer. Landis was dressed up; Alistair's own leather was rather too casual in comparison.

"Took the bait, did you?" Alistair asked, stalking across the empty room for a chair - but not before looking around for any food that had been left out.

The door opened and Landis turned, expecting Vedir; his expression blanked out in a similar surprise to Alistair's when the slighter man jerked back.

"Grey," he said in returned acknowledgment, tone neutral, polite. What could Prideaux want with the both of them? Like Vedir's appeal to him on the basis of the WBA, Landis distrusted such tailored convenience.

"Took the bait, did you?"

"Obviously," Landis drawled. He watched the other prowl the room, taking in the sunken face, the unwashed hair, the dirty and wrinkled clothes. It was not unusual for Grey to take little care in his appearance, but today he looked almost alarmingly haggard. The fierceness of his glare did not negate the delicacy of his bones; Landis imagined he could just take Grey's wrist and... snap. "You were such a convincing salesman until now. Doesn't Prideaux keep you in better shape than this?"

Alistair scowled at Landis, not that an exchange of scowls was out of the ordinary for either of them. He sighed after a moment, though, and sink into the chair. He looked small for s moment, his hot air drained for a few seconds.

"Shop's gone," he said, rocking his head against the chair's back. "Bloody accident. Burned it up," he said. He smirked as he continued, though, giving Landis a look - as if Landis was the only one who would really understand what he said next. "It was live in the ruins or owe Darian a favor."

He crossed his arms, eyebrow raised. "I'm here to find out how well Pridaeux really keeps me. You're here to hear the actual offer, I assume."

Landis tilted his head, silent for a moment as he considered the kind of accidents that could burn a whole shop down. It must've been something spectacular. Doubtless Grey was already kicking himself and didn't need Landis' special brand of sarcasm to let him know how idiotic that was. Begging his way up from the beginning, now... how very uncomfortable that must be for Alistair. Landis almost smirked.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said, and meant it. He did not take a seat like Alistair, but he did lean against a high-backed one; his mildly disdainful expression shifted, a precursor to the rolling his eyes. "The lesser of two evils."

"Or his first instructions. He was fairly clear last time." Landis shifted again, back straightening, one arm trailing over the top of the chair rather than leaning on it now. "I wouldn't be here if I hadn't already accepted. Although of course I wouldn't turn down extra incentive."

"Yeah," Alistair said, with a grunt and a sigh that revealed his pale cheeks were far more sunken than usual. "Thanks." It wasn't a very humble thanks so much as a grunt of acknowledgement - which, for Alistair, was a humble thanks. Touchy-feely was not something he excelled at.

Alistair was clearly about to ask something - having looked at Landis for a long moment with a thoughtful gaze - when the study door opened. Vedir stepped into the room, his suit clean and pressed and - unsurprisingly - fashionably late. The man had made them wait for him; it was a silent, but telling message.

"Ah! Master Morgan. How good to see you," Vedir said politely, nodding at Alistair. "Mister Grey."

He crossed to his desk, but instead of sitting, he leaned against the wood instead, arms crossed and legs crossed at the ankle. He had a cigarette in one hand, which smoked in such an orderly and elegant way it almost seemed enchanted.

"I won't beat around the bush, gentlemen; I'm sure you're interested in the business at hand, not any polite riff-raff. Morgan, I assume that via your presence, that you're interested. Good." His gaze darted to Alistair, and then back. "I trust you're willing to work both with - and against - your former allies, Morgan? The first job I have for you is going to pit you against the residents of Knockturn and Diagon alleys."

Certainly, Vedir had made them wait. Landis did not take offense. Some things were just expected when dealing with men like Prideaux. He was much more effective than Malvivicus had been at implying he'd had some leisurely activity interrupted for this, too - Landis was mildly impressed. Belittling people was an art.

He did wonder, though, what Alistair had been about to say - perhaps he could catch him afterwards.

He hadn't been leaning when Vedir had entered, but regardless he straightened even more, no longer quite so casual in the presence of his new employer. "Of course," he said evenly - a statement of fact, not a boast, and an answer to both of Vedir's preliminary questions. He didn't miss the way the man's eyes darted to his associate; given the location, this would doubtless be of interest to Alistair as well. "What did you have in mind?"