Adam Turner’s eyes popped open of their own accord.

Sun shine was just starting to press its way past the windows, giving the flat a soft afterglow that wasn’t quite day time but not at all night time either. As the Cursebreaker groaned, his leg throbbing with pain –a reminded of how he’d let his guard down on his latest assignment. Throwing the covers off his body, Adam carefully climbed out of bed and stalked with uneven strides to the bathroom and a shower, relishing the way running water washed down his body like broken beads of rain. It was far different from anything he’d had available in Machu Picchu, and one of the only reasons he was grateful for the return to civilization –that, and the fact that, last night, as soon as he’d arrived back in London Adam had been able to apparate into Mungo’s and get his leg checked out. Turned out, it was nothing according to the all-too-young healer who’d tended to him. Healers were becoming less and less competent by the day, and it amazed the animagus to be informed that the fact that half of his right calf thigh was turning purple was not an indication of danger. If they hadn’t been in a busy emergency room, Adam would have murdered the bloke right then and there. For free. Alas, witnesses had surrounded him, so he had simply settled for storming out of the wizarding hospital with blood clouding his vision.

With a sigh, he turned off the faucet. Timing his moves perfectly, he awkwardly stepped out of the tub at the same exact moment as he whipped his towel from its hook and wove it around his waist. Dripping water, Adam walked back into his bedroom, where he proceeded to dry his body and change –pulling on a pair of worn jeans, hiking shoes and a shirt. It might not be the preferred dress code, but after what he’d gone through to get the latest artifact for the bank they could shut their pie holes and allow him to wear whatever the bloody hell he wished. Dragging the towel through his hair, Adam lazily moved to the kitchen and began the preparations for breakfast. The envelope that had been awaiting him last night as soon as he’d returned from Mungo’s –and the subsequent meeting- bled through his mind, as he readied a mug and pulled out a somewhat humid pack of crackers. Tempting as the money he was being offered was, the Cursebreaker turned Assassin –and apparently now turned to errand boy- was not certain he would be taking the job. His possible employer had not only kept his face in the shadows and his voice magically corrupted, which made Adam suspicious, but had given little enough information of the item he needed found. And that simply wasn’t how it worked: whenever Adam took on a killing job, he insisted on knowing not only his employers name, but having hard documentation on everything. As back up. He had gotten himself into a corner where he needed to be sure he had plans that ranged through the entire alphabet. And the man last night had provided none.

Fifteen minutes later, Adam had finished his breakfast, collected the items for Gringotts and apparated to the bank. His feet hit marble with a loud clack, his right thigh exploding with pain. Wincing, he inhaled deeply before starting to walk, first moving towards his own desk and tossing everything upon it, before turning towards one near by and the familiar blonde hair sitting behind it. Loath as he was to admit it, Adam had grown somewhat attached to Raizel Cohen years ago when she’d been training under him in Central America. She’d been a brat and he’d wanted nothing more than to strangle the life from her lungs, but it was also impossible to spend so much damned time with somebody without taking on affection for them. Of course, as with every other relationship in Adam’s life, she was entirely disposable and he’d kill her if ever he had the need without a single issue. But while she still breathed, he very much enjoyed the conflicting love and hate he had towards the woman.

“Cohen,” As with all other pure mortals, Raizel was not aware of Adam’s side jobs, and he made his best job at making himself seem as normal as anyone. Perhaps a bit bad tempered at times, but surely not psychotic or murderous. The Cursebreaker allowed himself a small smile as he limped towards the woman’s desk and slid himself into a sitting position on the surface. Winking at the girl good naturedly, he shrugged his shoulders in way of salutation. “Hear you’ve been desked. What happened?” He considered himself a mentor for her, even though it was hardly the case and should probably hex his ass if he ever suggested it. “Piss someone else off like you did to me in Central America, lass?”

Perhaps it was the fact that it was the middle of the week, or maybe it was all the excitement from the night before[1], but Raizel Cohen's normal Gringotts workload seemed exceptionally boring this morning.  The blonde Cursebreaker sat slumped at her desk, mindlessly picking her way through calculation after calculation. 

She'd nearly glanced up at the sound of uneven footsteps behind her, but experience had stilled her.  The only regular in the Bank with a limp was Charisma Aldridge, and she wasn't about to leave an opening for a conversation with that particular coworker if she could help it.  But then a male voice cut in and whether Raizel had liked it or not, her work day was being very definitely interrupted as someone limped his way into her field of vision.

And in this case, the mage couldn't say that she minded at all.  "Tur-ner," Raizel retorted delightedly.  She straightened in her chair, her features immediately lighting up as she flashed a wicked grin at the man who had invaded her desk.

Her relationships with the other Gringotts Cursebreakers were often hit or miss.  Too many of her coworkers were like St. Just or Aldridge: refined, careful, with no sense of the excitement and awe and adventure that had once drawn her to the mix.  But as much as she might clash with the others, she liked Adam Turner.  He threw himself into things with tenacious determination; there was no flouncing about or making small talk over a cup of tea when one was on assignment with him.  And it certainly didn't hurt that he was just as stubborn and sharp-tongued as she liked to think that she was.

"I do not piss people off," she mimicked, slipping briefly into an approximation of the man's accent.  "Maybe they wanted to make sure that there would still be work for the rest of you to do, yeh?"  She gave a nonchalant shrug, as if the truth of it didn't bother her one way or another, and attempted to eye the other Cursebreaker without looking like she was doing it.  As much as he might be unfortunately British, Turner usually ranged as far afield as she did; it wasn't often that business brought him back to the London office.  And he had been limping.

"Let me guess."  Her teeth flashed in a swift, pointed grin.  "You missed me so much that you had to stop in?  Don't tell me that that's the only reason that you are in London, Turner," Raizel said nicely.  She arched a quizzical eyebrow at him.  "What did they threaten you with to get you back to the office?"

1.	Mind Your Fingers

Adam actually snorted at her answer, and it was not at all an act. Rolling his eyes, the Cursebreaker settled slightly forwards on the desk, leaning a hand against the hardwood. “You piss me off some times,” Although, at the moment, his mood was leaning more towards being amused as she mimicked his accent. “Or do you mean to imply I’m just special, Cohen?” Adam spent half his time wanting to strangle the woman, and the other half of it bantering playfully with her. It was quite the lovely relationship, enough to make the man hope he’d never be obligated to murder her. At times there was a bit of flirtation tossed into the mix, but he made sure to hide it as nothing but a joke. And still other times, he simply ignored her out of pure frustration: around her, he forced himself to act differently. For everyone, there was a different mask –and Raizel Cohen was the one person who got to see the one that was closest to his true self: adrenaline junky, slightly psychotic, flirtatious, cold yet capable of warmth. Adam was aware she didn’t mind his company, but on the days he ignored her, he wondered what her reaction would be if she ever discovered his job on the side. The twenty eight year old had long ago taught himself to look after number one first, and not allow himself to care for any other being with a life of their own; he had made himself understand that everybody else should be treated simply like a bag full of a beating heart, working lungs and an active brain. Emotions, he’d reminded himself until it stuck, were not to be considered. But such notions brought certain loneliness, and he couldn’t say he enjoyed it. And Raizel Cohen reminded him of that more than anyone.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Adam pulled back again, and picked up a slide of paper, eyeing it as if the conversation were something not all too important. “You’re not the expert you think you are,” It was a bluff, and the small twitch at the corner of his lips would certainly reveal it: Raizel was not the Cursebreaker he was, but she came close. “If you hadn’t done anything wrong, you wouldn’t just take paperwork, Cohen,” He tossed the piece of paper in her direction, but watched it float indelicately to the floor, ignoring his order to hit the woman in the face. “I know you –being prostrated to the desk is not something you’d simply accept,” The banter was gone for a second, and the look of worry on Adam’s face was actually entirely earnest. Of all the people he knew, this woman was the only one he worried about. Having to kill her would be excusable, as he was aware if he did so it would be for a perfectly righteous meaning, an agenda that suited him. He wouldn’t shred a tear, because crying was useless; he might miss her, but only in the way one misses their youth once they reached adulthood –not that Adam missed his childhood, for he hadn’t ever been able to enjoy one. He’d worked hard to accomplish his goal, and he would allow nothing to stop him now. Even if he didn’t like it. However, if anyone other than him were to put a single hand on the woman, the animagus was aware that he’d break out in rage. She was the closest thing he had to a true friend, and until such a time came that she needed to be out of the picture, he’d make sure nothing happened to Raizel.

“You know you’re the only reason for me to come back, honey,” Adam slipped off the desk, all seriousness to his thoughts suddenly gone as he slid off his desk and stood, stretching his arms over his head and careful not to put too much weight on his right leg. “I’d snog you, but you might try to hex me and I’d rather not stain my jacket with your blood,” He winked, as he stalked around her and bent his knees, almost kneeling besides her. “I’m just ravishingly in love with you, Cohen.” He winked, patted her on the shoulder, and pushed back into a standing position, folding his arms over his chest. “Don’t flatter yourself –had to turn in the conquests.” He tossed a pointed glance towards the items he’d brought in, before moving to settled down on the arm of her chair. It wasn’t a comfortable place to sit, but in the game the two constantly played he’d gain the upper hand if he managed to make her uncomfortable.

“What have you been working on, Cohen?” He rested both hands on his lap, tempted to run a finger through her hair but deciding that she might snap if he tried. “The desk might be boring, but I doubt you’ve managed to keep yourself entirely out of trouble.”

Raizel gave a loud yawn at the man's performance, pantomiming covering her mouth as she feigned boredom at the false profession of love.  But just as quickly, her devilish grin had returned, and she was cocking an eyebrow, eyeing the man sidelong.

The last thing that she wanted to do to start today was have a conversation with Adam Turner about why she was desked.  More than six months had passed since the unfortunate incident with Charisma Aldridge in the Libyan tomb; six months since her fellow Cursebreaker, who had been old and slow, had fallen victim to a Runespoor venom-laced trap, and their entire plan had fallen apart.  As far as Raizel was concerned, her sentence should have ended long ago -- and yet she was still here, imprisoned by paperwork when she should have been off adventuring and exploring and marauding.

Of course, she had a more than vague idea of why that was the case, but it wasn't one that she cared to share -- not out loud, and certainly not with this man, who could wield even the slightest hint of her shortcoming like a verbal weapon.  Instead, Raizel rolled her eyes, giving a shrug of her shoulder, and let a hand flutter as if the entire thing barely resonated as a care in her world.

"They're still paying me.  Why would I argue with that?"  She arched an eyebrow at him, drumming the three good fingers of her right hand on the desk.  Turner had moved from her desk to perching on the arm of her chair; trying to get a rise out of her, certainly, which was why she wouldn't react at all.  "If they want to give me a paid holiday and still keep the galleons coming, I'm not going to protest."  She flashed him a daring grin.  "Maybe we don't all want to live constantly on the edge like you, achi."

Which Turner would surely recognize as a completely ridiculous statement since it was coming from her, if he remembered her at all.  Raizel gave a shrug, doing her best to seem nonplussed.  When one jousted with a serpent, it was best not to show weakness.

"It is no problem," she said easily.  With Turner perched on her chair, it was harder to examine him inconspicuously; she aimed an elbow at his side, but not nearly hard enough to knock him off.  "Those conquests must have been the ones that you could bring back, yeh?  And they already had you stop in to see the Healers?" she inquired nicely, tilting her head to the side so that she could inspect his expression and subsequent reaction.  "What did they say about your leg?"

The elbow she tossed in his direction connected with a spot right between two of his ribs, causing a dull pain in his midsection to accompany the throbbing of his right thigh. Clenching his teeth, Adam barely managed to keep himself from hissing –but admitting pain would be allowing her the upper hand in the game, and he was unwilling to let such a thing occur. Instead, he sat there, an eyebrow arched in her direction at the same time as he rolled his eyes. Nice try, his gaze commented, and he was certain she’d be able to read it. Patting her lightly on the shoulder, however, he stood –his buttocks were starting to get uncomfortable, and the position was doing nothing for his injured leg. Dragging a hand along her desk, he let his shoulders rise and fall in answer to her question; his back directed towards the woman for an instant before he faced her again, the smirk on his face now full of a sense of debauchery. His womanizing ways had apparently not been lost on Raizel, and Adam found himself almost glad to know it.

“I had a few other conquests begging to move in with me,” He shrugged, as if entirely nonplussed by the fact that he apparently had women at his feet crawling to come live with him in London but left behind in Central America. “But I’m a one woman type of guy,” Wincing just slightly as he accidentally put too much weight on his leg, Adam let his left arm lean down on the desk and keep him upright. “And you’ve managed to steal my heart,” He lazily tossed a wink in her direction, for an instant too distracted by the fact that his thigh felt like it was burning to actually focus on looking sincere. The pain registered on his face, as his lips twisted into a snarl, and his knuckles turned white as his fingers curled against her desk.

“Went in to Mungo’s last night,” he commented, slowly exhaling and making an attempt to control the situation once again. “The twelve year old who checked it out claims it’s nothing,” Adam let his right leg slid across the ground until there was utterly no pressure on it. “My purple thigh begs to differ, but who knows which of the two is right,” Again he shrugged, trying to turn the situation into nothing: half of him didn’t want to preoccupy the woman, and the other half didn’t want to expose any type of weakness that could be exploited as a tactic in their eternal match. “Probably nothing but a minor inconvenience, anyways.”

“But enough about me,” The topic of conversation had lingered on him for long enough, which always made him uncomfortable –it was best to keep it on other matters. “If you think I’m going to take that bollocks line about not wanting to live on the edge, you’re sorely mistaken, love,” He allowed just the right amount of sarcasm into the final word, as he tapped his fingers against a stack of paper and allowed the color to return to his knuckles. “You’d jump into a nest of dragons just for the adrenaline rush, Cohen,” In a sudden rush of inspiration, Adam pushed away from the desk and –dragging his right leg behind him just slightly- moved towards her, extending both hands with a slightly mischievous grin plastered on his face. “Stand the bloody hell up, and let’s see what we can do about getting you back on the field.”

There were no winks, no promises that would win her over to Adam Turner.  Raizel gave a loud, heartfelt sigh, pressing her hand dramatically to her forehead as if she were about to swoon out of her chair.  This was how most encounters began: undying professions of love that quickly faded into talk of whatever really interested the other Cursebreaker.  If she'd ever been affected or impressed by them, she'd never have lasted long in her current employment.

"Then it's good that I can't bear to live without you," she told him with a devilish grin.  "I don't know how I have gone on living, when you were gone for so long.  My heart -- it breaks --"  She clutched her hands to her heart, letting her eyelids flutter dramatically.

The talk of his leg -- Raizel arrested her performance long enough to regard him coolly from behind half-lowered lashes.  The stiffness of his movements and the way he kept favoring it left little doubt that the injury was far more grave than he wanted to let on; she could see it in the pain that spasmed across his face, in the careful, controlled breaths that didn't quite go as deep as they should.  With anyone else, she might have been worried -- but Adam Turner was not quite a friend, and he was certainly adept at looking after himself.  There were other ways to take care of an injury besides going to a Healer, and he'd probably be the first to heartlessly tell her that it was none of her business.

Except for the fact that he had evidently decided that her grounding in the office was now his business.  Raizel nearly rolled her eyes again, prepared to launch into another half-hearted defense of her lack of interest at escaping; she certainly didn't need Turner seizing upon that as some weapon he could wield against her.  But then, suddenly, he pushed away from the desk, and his next words took her entirely by surprise.

The Cursebreaker was left blinking at him for a long second, her astonishment more than showing in her expression, before she quickly schooled her features once more.

"You want to get me back to the field?" Raizel flashed him a quick, brazen grin as she closed her hands around his, and then let him pull her to her feet.  "Who are you and what have you done with Adam Turner?" she retorted.  "When have you ever worked with someone by choice?"

The astonishment plastered on her face and the quick succession of blinks were almost enough to make Adam snort in laughter, but he maintained his face serious –although slightly mischievous-, as his crooked his fingers into a half-fetal position before extending them again, a clear indication for her to come forwards. He couldn’t quite have explained what he had in mind, or why he had any interest in helping Cohen back onto the field –but he did, and Adam was the type of bloke who enjoyed getting his way. With everything. Admittedly,  Cohen was an interesting woman to work with, and her lack of any true sense of self-preservation made her not only the target of his murderous desires, but also both an amusing distraction and possible bait. If ever needed, he knew he could gauge her into a life threatening situation by simply suggesting she was a coward for not trying –better her skin than his, after all, though he might just slightly miss her once she was gone.

But just as quickly as the lack of understanding had appeared, it was gone, as Raizel grinned and extended her hands. Her palms were warm against his as his fingers squeezed around her hands, and his leg complained at the effort it took to pull Cohen into a standing position. “I might need bait,” He answered with a shrug, though his lips were still quirked in just the right amount of playfulness and amusement. The trick here was making sure she never guessed he actually liked her –unless it was a night out for drinks and he thought he had a chance of taking her back to his flat for some nighttime debauchery; only then would it be permissible, and only for one night before the sunlight glanced upon their skins once again and he explained it’d been a drunken mistake. And damn it, it’d be worth it: annoying and disobedient and strong headed as Raizel Cohen might be, she was an attractive piece of meat.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” Adam winked, as he let go of her hands and stepped back with some trouble, folding his arms over his chest and shrugging, eyebrows rising on his forehead. “And don’t act like you don’t like it,” A playful, teasing glint to his grey eyes, the Cursebreaker took a step forwards once again, closing the distance between them, lips straining to stretch against his will and almost impossible to control. “You know you like it,” He almost purred, and the instant he did he realized he might have over done it. Still, the scent of her was exciting and Adam knew that had she not been Cohen and had they not worked together, he would have snogged her just for the sake of it. “Or maybe you’re just too much of a coward to like it,” Another wink as he pulled back and slid his backside onto the edge of her desk, gripping it at each side.

The suggestion that he might only need bait was about as believable as her insistence that she didn't mind the office.  Raizel clucked her tongue, arching a disbelieving eyebrow at him.  The ideal 'bait' would never be another Cursebreaker, particularly one who had already proven that she only followed instructions if they suited her.  If that was all that he was looking for, there were plenty of pliable options about the office -- some of them even competent, although the Israeli had no doubt that none were so competent as her.

Which meant that Turner must have some other reason for wanting to drag her into the field.  As he moved closer, Raizel held her ground, meeting his gaze directly, her brows raised.  The other Cursebreaker was practically infamous for his love of pushing buttons.  Testing limits, seeing how uncomfortable he could make others -- which was fine with her, because she had never had a problem with returning the favor.

Even now, with the space between them so small that they were nearly touching, he drew back first, shifting to sit once more on her desk.  Raizel cocked an eyebrow, eyeing him in silent challenge, and then gave him a smug, lazy smile.  "Yeh, I'm the coward," she agreed easily, stepping towards him.  She regarded him for a moment, face to face, and then leaned past him, lingering for only a second as she reached to reclaim a small object wrapped in a colorful scarf that had been sitting in the middle of her desk.

This was the game that he played, and if she wanted to, she could push it further -- perhaps even bump that injured leg, although judging by how much he was wincing earlier, that would be playing dirty.  As it was, she merely ran her finger over his hand as she withdrew -- a touch that could well have been accidental, for how quickly it was over.

"Since you're here," she said, sending only the slightest of smirks as she began to carefully unwrap the object.  "Maybe you can give me an opinion on something."  Her fingers moved delicately as they untangled the scarf from the small wooden box that it had been twisted around.

Keeping strange objects at one's desk was hardly unexpected for a Cursebreaker.  Many of her colleagues had all manner of things decorating their workspace: wooden masks, ivory trophies, bits and baubles collected from their travels.  Even so, it hadn't felt right to leave the music box sitting out where anyone could see it -- just as she had been uncomfortable taking it back to Akiva's house.  The scarf had been a compromise, twined around it, protecting the dark-colored little wooden box from possible prying eyes.

Raizel finished freeing it, wrapping the scarf back around her right hand, where it settled to hide her missing fingers.  Her eyes flicked to meet Turner's, and she held his gaze for an instant longer than she might have otherwise.  But then she held it out to him, arching her eyebrows quizzically, and shifted so that she too had her back to the desk.

"It was a gift from a friend," she confided, boosting herself to sit next to him.  "He thought that I might find it interesting."  She found his gaze again, studying his expression as she bit her lip.  "What can you tell about it?"

With ease, Adam’s knuckles softly wrapped over the edge of his desk on either side of his thighs, fingers dragging around the smooth wood as his eyes remained impassive on Cohen’s face. His tongue darted out to graze his bottom lip, as her mouth spread into a sluggish smile, her face smug as she’d just won the war. “You are,” He agreed amiably, though it was hard to keep his face from altering as she stepped forwards and closed the distance once again. His grip on the desk hardened, but on his face an eyebrow rose and his lips tugged into an amused grin –all while his heart galloped into his ribcage. There was a certain thrill when adrenaline broke through blood vessels, and Adam felt it know as she leant past him, reaching for something. His body remained lose and relaxed, for anything else would be a proof of weakness he was unwilling to show.

And then, she was pulling back, her fingers dragging along the top of his hand as she did –it might have been accidental, but he doubted it, and his grey eyes rolled as they looked into each other’s face once again. “Seductive is not an adjective that suits you,” He commented, voice smug, as she spoke, her fingers pulling back a colorful scarf to reveal whatever it hid. Curiosity peaked, his gaze shuffled down to the dark-colored wooden box. Adam’s eyes wrinkled, lips pursing as he tried to make out details –but it was a bit too far to make anything out properly.

Raizel shifted, now sitting on the edge of her desk next to him, her hand holding out the box. Reacting, Adam once again rolled her eyes at the woman. “Hold your hippogriffs, Cohen,” He said, reaching out to take it from her hands. “Might need to give it a closer look before coming to any conclusions.”

The wood was smooth beneath his calloused palms, dark-colored and small enough to almost fit in his hands –but for its four short legs that spilled over the edge. Adam sucked in his bottom lip, eyes slightly narrowed as he ran his thumb over the sunburst design wrought in small bits of iron. It wasn’t completely unbalanced by age, yet it seemed obvious to the man that, at one time, this small pattern had been worked on and crafted by trained, perfectionist hands. Trailing his hand towards the edge, it took a bit of work and a few seconds before Adam was able to tug the lid open.

Immediately, a soft tune filled his ears: unknown yet familiar, the melody sent a shiver dancing down Adam’s spine; his eyes drifted closed as he inhaled, eyebrows digging together and lips pursing. The music drifted around him, and although there was a slight skip every now and again –the same as if a muggle record were scratched-, he felt haunted by the familiar melody.

After a second, Adam tugged his eyes open, the tune still rolling, as he looked into the inside of the music box: lined with lead, the only thing inside was the machination that allowed the music to be played. Carefully closing the lid, the Cursebreaker turned over the box to look at the bottom –made in the same dark colored wood, there was an intricate pattern of circles and lines, as well as a number directly beneath. Adam tapped this with his index finger as he finally glanced back up at Cohen.

“Any idea what these numbers mean?” He questioned –everything else could be explained and detailed, and certainly a bit of research could identify the symbols on the top and bottom of the box. However, these numbers didn’t seem quite consequential. Adam held the box in both hands, balancing it on his palms, as he kept his eyes on the woman. “It’s a bit heavier than I’d expect for its size,” He commented, heart tugging at his ribs; he somehow felt a deep curiosity about what he was holding. “Rosewood, perhaps?” Adam glanced from the woman to the box and back again. “The tune is oddly familiar, yet I can’t at all place it.” Unwilling holding it out at her, he felt himself wanting to hold it tight. “It’s not inexpensive –who exactly gave it to you, again?”

Raizel flashed the other Cursebreaker a bright, fierce grin.  "An old friend," she replied, not bothering to hide her smirk.  Let the wizard make smart comments about her abilities in seduction all he liked. "Some people actually enjoy my company, Turner.  My friend was in town, and he wanted to take me to dinner."  She shrugged, her eyes drifting back to the music box, which looked so small and fragile in the man's hands.  "He said he bought it at an estate sale.  They didn't know any of the history to it."

And history there certainly was.  That, she was sure of.  She couldn't explain why else she cared so much -- why she wanted so very badly to discover the secret of this little box.  Maybe it had something to do with Harrison's death -- with her own brother's death a year ago, with anything and everything awful that had happened since then.  But one way or another, whatever effort it took, she was determined to find out.

"I'm not sure what the numbers mean," she admitted with a shrug.  "A date, maybe -- I used a spell[1] to try and date it, and it's maybe seventy or eighty years old.  So maybe 27 January, 1944.  Other than that..."

She spread her hands.  A combination, a code...the numbers could mean anything.  They might have very little to do with the box itself, other than what they had once meant to an owner.  There was no way to tell if the person who had carved them was the same as whoever had made and enchanted the little music box.

"Any ideas on where it might have come from?" she asked, leaning to peer at the object over Turner's shoulder.  "I wish I recognized the song.  You haven't seen that flower symbol before, have you?"

1.	Akheta, an age detection charm taught at Beit Gaddol

The bright grin on her face made Adam want to snap at the girl, as his thumbs curled around the small legs of the box, as if unwilling to let go of it. Instead, he rolled his eyes at her, an odd feeling burning in the pit of his stomach as his attraction to the object had mixed with a strange desire to throw it at the ground and stomp on it until it was nothing but a few shreds of wood and a led casing simply because an old flare might have been the one to give it to her. Still, his desire to hold the music box to his chest won over the destructive need, as he snorted. “I highly doubt anyone cares to spend social time with you, Cohen,” He commented, his voice not unkind, although his words were harsh. “You’re not easy to look at.” Of course, it wasn’t at all consequential that Adam himself found looking at her an exquisitely entertaining task, and had not yet came to understand why he hadn’t taken the advance and snogged her. Annoying and unpredictable as she might be, she was an attractive girl.

The numbers could well be a date, and –happy she’d yet to remove the box from his grasp-, Adam found himself turning it back over to allow his grey eyes to inspect the bottom once again. “That might be it,” He admitted nonchalantly, deciding perhaps the digits were not what he should be focusing on as he shook his head. Having her looking over her shoulder might have been distracting if he’d been drunk, but he was able to control any type of chemicals leaking through his veins, especially since he was busy focusing on the item he held. “I haven’t seen it, but I wouldn’t think it’d be that hard to discover what it means.”

Turning his head just slightly, he looked at her sideways, and their faces were close enough to send adrenaline rushing through him. Still, he controlled any temptation to either snog her or cover his thoughts with snarky comments. “You’re aware I think your story of how you got it is bogus, correct?” He questioned calmly, as he pressed the box against his chest in an almost hugging gesture without even realizing what he was doing. “This is no ordinary piece of shit somebody just happened to find and give to you,” If nothing else, he was pretty certain nobody would have been consciously willing to let go of this box –unless it was only him who felt this strange attraction to it, and it was born out of curiosity. “Where’d you get it, Cohen?” Swiftly, Adam twisted his body so that he was facing her, standing close enough for his chest to brush against hers. He reached up, holding the music box with one hand, the fingers of the other taking hold of her chin to hold her head still and look into her eyes. “Honest, now.”

Raizel went still as the man lifted her chin.  Her jaw set, and she could feel something hard in the back of her throat.  Here, alone in this small office at Gringotts -- but there were other employees nearby, certainly within earshot.  She wasn't frightened of Adam Turner, for all his cool attitude and nonchalant intimidation. 

"I told you," she said evenly, eyeing him in return.  The three good fingers of her right hand settled around his wrist -- gripping it, but not firmly yet, not yet making an effort to force him to move.  "A friend gave it to me.  A good friend.  And it isn't any of your business, anyhow."

She gave him a cool, measuring look, and then held out her left hand expectantly, fingers flat and palm facing towards the ceiling.  They were putting an end to this consultation.  He'd give the music box back, and then Adam Turner could be on his way, off on his misadventures and womanizing and visits to incompetent healers, and whatever else he had planned for this trip back to London.

"If you think of anything else, let me know."  Her voice was calm, even as she arched her eyebrows at him.  "I've got an appointment to get it appraised tonight.  We'll see what an antiques dealer can say about it."

He could feel her jaw grow tight under his grip, and there was a slight sense of satisfaction to it. But she wasn’t afraid, and that was perhaps one of the things he liked most about Raizel Cohen: the fact that she wasn’t a weak, whimpering little girl who’d grow cowardly at the first hint of trouble. He didn’t mean to hurt her, and hopefully she knew, but even if she did she managed to stare straight at him without wavering, as her fingers lightly wrapped around his wrist. “And I told you, I don’t bloody believe you,” He snapped, though his eyes were amused. “Blame yourself for making it my business.”

Her eyes were cool as she held out a hand, and suddenly Adam felt as if his stomach were dropping. He had no interest in handing over the box, yet he didn’t feel he had a choice in the matter. Half of him was suddenly snap her neck and run –but he was not ready to out himself as a killer, and a stupid musical box was not good enough of a reason to kill this woman. She was interesting enough to keep around, and he had no true desire or need to see her dead just yet.

Pulling away from her grasp, Adam let go of her chin brusquely, and handed over the musical box with little eagerness. He nodded coldly. “I’d say let me know what they say,” He growled, as he stepped away from her. “But you probably won’t.” Adam gave her one final look, before twisting around and leaving her behind, right leg dragging behind as he exited the bank, the musical box weighing heavily in his mind.

-Fin-