[1]The last time he had been at the Royal Opera House had also been at Ira Almasy's pleasure. People had hung from the stage ropes that night though. Today in the late July warmth, he adjusted his tie, quite such sure a spectacle would not be repeated, however much he'd enjoyed it.

There was a quiet, respectful atmosphere amongst those taking high tea in the Hamlyn Hall, quiet conversation with the gentle percussion of teaspoons, cake plates and the bubble of tea. He trailed a member of the waiting staff, waited respectfully at a distance to be announced, to be seen.

The week's events had brought him here, from bloody Birmingham on the Wednesday morning to his best attempt to fix a broken arm on the Thursday at home, he had not foreseen the chain. But all seemed to lead back to Almasy, though as ever, he could not prove. Although Musgrave's word had been accurate with Birmingham, and he had certainly suffered for his assistance, Edwin did not trust the wizard fully.

However, if Ira Almasy wanted to get his attention, she had made the right moves. It would only be a case of finding a dance they could both step to.

When the nod was given that he would be received, he approached, maintaining a neutral expression, even if his eyes glanced over Almasy's companion at the table.

"Madam Almasy." He greeted most politely, dipping his head in a shallow bow nodding to her companion. "My thanks for permitting me to join you this afternoon."

1.	obbligato - required, indispensable con spirito - with spirit

"Must you order scones?"

Ira Almasy watched as her brother Kazimir poured pale Darjeeling into their gold trimmed cups, steam rising aromatically into the air. He spared the three tier cake stand a withering glance as the pot was neatly lowered.

Nobody detested scones so much as Kaz, she knew, although the reason was one he divulged only to those with strong stomachs. Ira accepted her drink politely in one hand and placed her other on his shoulder. "I haven't done anything to them," she replied reassuringly in Russian. "If that's what concerns you." A thin waiter paused at their table to refill their champagne flutes before moving along to the next.

Kazimir's eyes followed the man as he replied. "Fool me twice, sister."

A touch smug, she smirked and returned to sip her tea while he drained his in almost one swallow. They chatted a bit more - generally to do with family in Moscow and how their niece was getting along with preparations for Greece. Kaz promised to come visit for the young one's sake. Even Ira knew he worried about Raine being around her for too long, but it couldn't be helped. The maître d' was along momentarily.


"Madam Almasy." Edwin Glass looked as unremarkable as she remembered, perhaps even moreso in the vastness of the hall. "My  thanks for permitting me to join you this afternoon."

Ira smiled brilliantly at the wizard, indicating the spare chair at their table while her brother rose to shake hands. "Privyet Mr Glass," Kazimir greeted tersely with a glance at her. She should have warned him about company, he didn't like to be around for the foundations of whatever mischief they had planned. "Kazimir Almasy. A pleasure, but I am afraid I must be on my way."

Politeness was not one of his redeeming qualities. Ira allowed him to pay her the usual affections, a peck on the cheek and a warning in their childhood colloquialisms to stay out of trouble. She looked to Edwin as their waiter came to walk Kazimir out with his coat. "Have you an appetite?" her smile lost none of its perfidious lustre, even as the double meaning came through. "I am in a mind to order us a little feast."

The wizard with Almasy stood to shake Edwin's hand, introducing himself as another Almasy before saying he had to be on his way. Edwin tried to take the departure with good grace, showing minor concern that he had ousted a family conversation.

"Have you an appetite? I am in a mind to order us a little feast."

Edwin averted his eyes from Kazimir's retreating form and met Ira's gaze as levelly as he could.
"Certainly, I am more than a little famished these days." He agreed, "I would be honoured to join you in such a feast."

As Lawrence had indicated, Almasy was already somewhat appraised of why he had come. It wasn't to bail out Lawrence, but to meet her acquaintance and broker the start of a partnership.

If Lawrence prolonged his grubby little life in the process then that was fortunate. He'd been unhinged, but a good partner to work with back in the day, and there was much potential to cause crisis for Raynor and watch as Level 2 imploded from within.

"It is much calmer here than I recall," Edwin mused aloud, looking out upon their surrounding with a steady expression. "Such a memorable performance." He sounded disappointed and turned back to Ira.

The gentle chiming and tinkling of fine china echoed across the Hall, polite murmurs underlying the dance of cutlery and percolating tea. By the good light coming through the great windows it seemed like all the world was at ease in the moment. Ira loved and hated this feeling.

As they spoke, Kazimir's place at the table was discreetly cleared by a waiter and one was set for Edwin instead. The same brew of tea was ordered, though she sent the man away with instructions to bring fresh dishes. "I wouldn't advise the scones," she remarked and ignored her own drink in preference of company.

"We do seem to have recovered." Ira's eyes glimmered fondly at the mention of last winter's opera - she did like to be reminded. "A shame, however, that we can't repeat the performance. It wouldn't be tasteful to reuse the setting, you understand."

Their new platters arrived and Ira straightened the angle of a fork on the table, so that it caught the light favourably. "But events of late have allowed me to look past restrictive environments. The arts cannot be contained to stage-" she waved the servers away. "- or swimming baths, for that matter. In fact, I was hoping a wizard in your position might have... ideas on the subject."

Ira leaned back in her seat, taking her saucer sweetly. "Our other patrons are dreadfully dull. They haven't the stomach for it."

"… it wouldn't be tasteful to reuse the setting, you understand."

"Quite." Edwin replied with an understanding nod, and the conversation took a pause while platters were changed.

"… the arts cannot be contained to stage, or swimming baths, for that matter. In fact, I was hoping a wizard in your position might have… ideas on the subject." He looked to her as levelly as he could, though he was a little surprised she would reference Birmingham so easily. Certainly to business amongst the finery.

"Our other patrons are dreadfully dull. They haven't the stomach for it."

"Pity," Edwin agreed, adjusting his napkin in his lap "I heard it was quite the show." He looked to her without flinching, the slightest amusement on his features.

"A passive audience is no longer any good, I feel." He suggested, "We need something a little more immersive." His eyes narrowed a moment in thought, "Take it to the unsuspecting audience instead."

He averted his eyes to the platters, deciding which of the sandwiches without the crusts he might want to try first.

"Not even necessarily by the light of the full moon." He added as an afterthought lifting the tongs and gesturing gently if he might serve her.

Edwin Glass did not look away, nor did he seem to express distaste at her inclinations in the arts. The wizard appreciated a good show and Ira - for better or for worse - knew that she was open to working with anyone whose desire to be amused could so indiscriminately look past what others would call moral dilemmas.

She tasted her tea once as he served, and then drank deeper before setting it down.

"Yes, being made to experience is preferable to being made to watch." Ira glanced up at the  maître d' at the other end of the hall, allowing a thought to sail across towards him. "And I think I desire something with a touch more... intensity? It is most difficult to convey a point when your audience can simply close their eyes."

Or run away. Better if they crawled, or hobbled, or did not move at all. At this thought, the sixty odd occupied chairs in the Paul Hamlyn hall drew back - all at once.

Ira pretended not to notice as the other diners slowly began to leave: not in perfect synchronisation but as if though each had suddenly remembered to visit the lavatory or take a cigarette break, their saunters casual. Nobody looked at the seated pair except for a waiter who approached to fill their flutes with champagne.

"Indeed, we will have to leave the full moon behind before it becomes a trite motif. Tiresome wolves," she added in a diverted voice. There were other plans where that was concerned. "Do you have an especially unsuspecting audience in mind?" Ira leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs so that her ankle rested on her knee. "I don't discriminate."

The sound of chairs moving made Edwin's eyebrows raise a little towards his rapidly receding hairline, and he glanced about them very briefly, noting every other diner had got to their feet. Out they went, as if nothing unusual had occurred.

Edwin admired the procession, a smile very slowly creeping to his features, noting the champagne being poured. Had he just passed a test?

"Do you have an especially unsuspecting audience in mind?" Ira ask and leaned back. As the room emptied, Edwin felt more at ease with speaking his mind.

"It is my business to know the weak points in the wizarding world, Madam," he explained, "where our world meets theirs," the fingertips of one hand met the other in illustration. Edwin phrased it like a pureblood might, old habits from Slytherin and the war. He skirted keenly around the fact his own mother was a Muggle, and that he existed in Muggle records which allowed him to move from one to the other with ease.

"A gateway provides a fortunate collision point, and a most diverse audience." He brought his hands apart. "Tear down the curtain, so to speak." He looked to Ira to see if she followed his thoughts, and whether they intrigued her. Of the two, she was certainly more dramatic, what with this perfectly orchestrated walk-out.

"Tear down the curtain, so to speak."

Her lips pulled into a pleasant smile of understanding, charmed by the wizard's particular use of words. He harboured better ambitions than his peers. Louder aims, louder ends. Ira took her champagne but didn't drink just yet - only held the flute by its fragile neck as her stare settled on Edwin's face appraisingly.

This would do. This would do very nicely, in fact. "Yes. I believe you have the right idea," she lifted the glass to execute a subtle toast. "And the gateway is hardly in question. I think we are due something special, with a spark, if you agree." The drink went down smoothly although had little effect.

It had been some decades now since she last drank herself into inebriation. The world was so much more ripe for the picking when one is an exemplar of sobriety in a country room of drunks.

Unhurriedly, she picked at the small sandwiches they'd been served. "I will send you a man to handle the fine details." Ira decided not to cast her mind across the hall to see if Layton were lingering about, watching. Always so suspicious. It was unbecoming. "You can trust him. As I trust you now, Mr Glass. This could be a most worthwhile friendship."

At least for them, it could.