This whole situation boiled down to one simple question.  How much did Cinaed trust Briggs?  Was the man telling the truth?  If Cinaed turned and walked away, would his nephew make his way to the hospital, as promised?  Was Cinaed confident the man's description of the series of events was accurate?  Was Briggs dragging a drunk millionaire out of his flat or was he dragging the drunk millionaire back into his flat? 

The answer was simple.  No.  He didn't trust the man who blew up his old pub.  He didn't trust the man who blinded his dog.  He would not trust this man alone with his flesh and blood.  And, it was also clear by now that Briggs was aware of the disguise, at least so far as recognizing the woman's face as a fraud.  He hadn't, yet, given any indication he'd figured out who was under the disguise. 

Perhaps that could help.  "Problem is, mate, I'm not leaving you alone with nephew.  So.  Seems we have three options.  One, we all go to St. Mungo's.  Which, we could - but, you see, polyjuice is liable to wear off in the about ten minutes.  You show up to St. Mungo's with an unconscious Xavier Tawse and an armed, very conscious Cinaed Tawse and I suspect your ass is getting canned." 

Cinaed shrugged his shoulders in an entirely casual gesture of apathy.  "Two.  You let me see to my nephew and pick up with the whole 'sleeping and forgetting' part of your plan.  Or, three.  We get all cozy up in your flat until my nephew comes around and he can verify you're not looking for trouble.  I suppose there's a fourth option.  But, I guessed you'd have no interest in it so ruled it out ahead of time."

If there had been any shadow of doubt (or hope?) that the threatening nocturnal witch wasn't Cinead Tawse, it quickly vanished in a deluge of context clues.

Even when faced with a very angry ghost of his past, even with a poor youth expiring on his stoop, Merlin's balls Nate was tired. He folded his arms and rested his fist against his mouth and closed his eyes. Cinead was being cute. Nate had been cute. This was all very cute. It was less fun than one might think to choose the blade.

Nate decided to take a moment to properly mull over the three/four unpleasant options. And that's when a few thoughts occurred to him. First. Cinead was more of a fugitive than he'd ever been; he'd be no more likely to enjoy showing up at Mungo's unmasked than Nate would be to stand next to it. So the first option was an empty threat. Probably. And number two. All this dangerous posturing was about Xavier.

He opened one eye and took a quick glance at poor Xav. If there was something Cinead Tawse was known for other than just ordinary murder, it was murder for family. Meant that Cinead would do no harm to Xavier, and that Cinead would definitely do harm to Nate if he didn't agree.

At last, Nate uncurled his arms and nodded. "Two. Let's go with two. But," he stretched in pained weariness. "But if I hand over Cinead Tawse's nephew to not Cinead Tawse then actual Cinead Tawse will be unhappy. So I'll need proof you're him."

Cute, Nathan. Very cute.

Cinaed wasn't quite sure what would have happened if Briggs had chosen option A.  Perhaps, option A was option D in disguise.  Or, maybe, Cinaed would have been just crazy enough to take him for his word.  Go with him (after leaving Fionn with a trusted friend, of course), linger just long enough to wreck havoc and kill as many as he could before attempting some wild-assed escape. 

It would be grand.  But, it would be foolish. 

Luckily, Briggs seemed to show some degree of intelligence as he opted for the second option.  Though it came with a frustrating, though understandable, stipulation. 

Cinaed took a long, slow breath to ease his rising temper.  "Do you want me to take you to see my blood dog whose eyes you burnt out with runespoor venom?  Or, we can wait another five minutes for the polyjuice to wear off.  I'm not carrying any identification."

Nate Briggs was about to respond when Xavier began to stir. Yeah, he'd sit there for too long; all agreed it would be a real bloody shame if Tawse the Younger were to expire (or worse) on the stairs of a haunted Knockturn hotel. They're be an investigation, likely another murder, it would be a mess.

Ignoring the great looming threat in stylish yet practical heels, Nate squatted down next to the kid again. He slapped his face gently.

"Oi. Oi! Xavier, still in there? Because that would be a delight for all of us." Tap tap tap. "We're working on getting you some healing, but I need you to open your eyes real quick for us."

Nate glanced a look over his shoulder, half expecting to see a wand in his face but very much hoping for a more cooperative stance from Cinead.

At some point in the confrontation between Briggs and Tawse, Xavier had been placed down on the steps outside the hotel. Although he was no longer floating in mid air, his head still lolled about and he was slumped against the nearest solid surface. His open eyes unseeing though pointed towards the other voices in the alley. Colours swam in front of him and his entire body tingled, intoxicated and poisoned. It wasn't likely to be lethal, at least the potion he had taken wasn't at least. The large amount of alcohol he had consumed, on the other hand, had him bordering on alcohol poisoning.

When Nate came over to tap his face his eyes followed the older man - a luminous violet instead of his usual grey blue. He tilted his head as if contemplating what was being said to him. Instead of responding he turned his head completely and let loose another stream of glowing purple bile.

As he straightened the glow to his eyes seemed a little dimmer and he seemed to focus, "We ousside?" He looked past Nate to the woman and child, "ye tell yer mam on me?"  His lips twisted in a smirk.

This was getting ridiculous and Cinaed was quickly losing his patience.  While Cinaed had never, actually, finished Hogwarts and there was a lot he didn't know thanks to his years in Azkaban, he did know one thing: handling drunk wizards.  If all this was a nasty hangover with some odd recreational side effects then, well, he'd manage. 

But, that wasn't his only reason for impatience.  He was starting to feel the slow, subtle changes that suggested his body was changing shape: the ground was gradually getting further away and some things were stretching while others were shrinking. 

As further confirmation, Fionn, who had been mostly quiet - perhaps due to sensing the building tensions - was starting to point at Cinaed's head and giggle.  "You look funny!" Fionn giggled, in stark contrast to the general tone of the moment. 

Wand still at the ready, Cinaed circled around Briggs and Xavier, putting his nephew between himself and the gutter rat as he ignored the kids question.  Finally close enough to get a good look at the state of the lad, Cinaed shook his head.  "What the hell did you give him, Briggs? 

"Water! Oh shit."

Nate had began the answer to Cinead's question with a twang of indignation.  But his thought was cut short as the trim figure of the nosy witch was giving way to Cinead's notable height and was growing the most magnificent blonde beard. It was an unusual scene to say the least. But at least he had the small comfort that he wasn't being duped.

"Just water," he said again. "He showed up like this looking for Dazmond. Bollocks, you think I'd poison him? He had something fishy before he got to me and I didn't have a bezoar. Hence: Mungo's. What, you a healer now, Tawse?"

Nate felt a little bad for Xavier who was probably having the worst night of the three of them. Now that Cinead's attention was focused on his nephew, Nate had a moment to take a better look at the child Cinead had with him. He seemed happy and unharmed, but something felt off. What business did a homicidal, ex-Azzie fugitive have with a five-year-old. Realizing he'd been staring, he looked back to Xavier.

"Oi, mate. What's got you purple. Tell uncle Cinead who is a healer now what got you purple," he called into the boy's head.

Xavier narrowed his eyes as best he could at Nate's coaxing, "Uncle Ci-" He looked over to the woman who was now very much not a woman. The formidable figure of his estranged uncle was now looking down on him. Shock he had not been expecting took over as he flailed about and almost fell backwards, "Wha' thee tough tittie whompus?! Where thee feck did ye come from?!"

He wobbled slightly and did his best to keep upright. He rubbed his head and for a moment it looked like he was about to vomit again before giving a wave. He kept his focus on Nate, doing his best to ignore the giant Ex-Azzie looming over the pair of them. Trying not to make eye contact with his baby cousin in his current state. Cinead was still a rather sore subject for him, when it came down to it.

"Sum new shite." He finally answered with as much of a shrug as he could muster, "Bloke called it a Lewis Bomb." His head lolled again and he rested it on his shoulder, cutting a side eye at Cinead.

"An' where thee feck 'ave ye bin fer thee last two years?"

From the amused look on his son's face, to the drunken befuddled look his nephew wore to Briggs' mix of uncertainty and relief, it was clear the potion's effects were wearing off quickly.  Cinaed cast a cautious, wary glance around their vicinity, keeping an eye out for bored passerbys and looky-lous, while he directed his wand at the five-year-old and cast a quick disillusionment charm. 

Anonymity had, so far, been Fionn's best friend; the less the authorities knew about the child's current appearance, the more free he was to actually get out and be a normal kid. 

If such a thing was even possible. 

Cinaed didn't bother gracing Brigg's rhetorical question about being a Healer with an answer.  Instead, he focused on the important information: "I know my way around idiots with questionable booze."  After all, he'd been known to serve it a time or two.  Was bad for business if you didn't know how to ensure your core clientele could come back for more. 

"Are you asking me if I trust you?" Cinaed asked, shifting his attention to Xavier while simultaneously trying to calm the child in his arms and decidedly ignoring Briggs' little quip. 

"A Lewis Bomb?" Cinaed repeated, ignoring the other slurred comments.  "Is that the one with the basilisk bile?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.  "You just need some pumpkin juice and tumeric.  Maybe some sassafrass.  Definitely, not St. Mungo's - unless you want to go with Briggs."  He rolled his eyes up, across his nephew's slouched form and towards the scrawny wizard.  "If your lucky, there won't be an off-duty reporter there eager to publish some tabloid bit about a teenaged-millionaire, his drunken state and his glorious arrival in the arms of a recent ex-Azzie.  I hear investors love that shit."

Nate threw his hands up. Now the wee Tawse was feeling chatty! Here, his uncle swooping in the well-read practical hedgewitch herbologist with the home remedy. He let out a relieved breath and laced his fingers behind his head. Daz would have known that and Xavier would be recuperating in Nate's bed. A bedfellow he wouldn't mind, by the way, seeing as it would save him this prodigious convention.

Cinead was a generous man of options it seemed; he was even offering his unfavorable bevvy of choices to his poor nephew, painting the picture of St. Mungo's crawling with press at this morbid hour.

"Trust? I know I'm your very favorite person," he answered dryly.

Ironic thing was, depending on your definition Briggs trusted Cinead. All of his deadly tendencies aside, he was nothing if not consistent. Between them, Briggs was the one more likely to be bandied about by weather or whim, and Cinead the one tempered to purpose in the cold of the North Sea.

Nate settled back on his heels, alarm mostly down. Xavier? Cinead could have him. Can't argue with his logic. Well. You could, but who'd that help? I need better friends, he thought.

Xavier simply shrugged at Cinaed's inquiry. He had no idea how the drink was made but Basilisk Bile could explain the violent vomiting and the hallucinations. In any case, he wasn't about to have another round any time soon. At least the remedy sounded easy enough, "Git me 'ome an Cook'll do the rest." The old grizzled wizard was more than used to taking care of his drunken arse by now anyways. Not to mention, Xavier was paying the man a tidy fortune to do so. Most of his grandfather's serving staff had kept on because of the young billionaire's generosity.

Cinaed painted a picture of an very undesirable welcome at St Mungo's and Xavier sneered. For a moment he narrowed his still violet eyes at his uncle. He was a little more than surprised that he knew about Xavier current status, "ugh, no. No more reporters."

He pulled himself to his feet, still wobbling and put his hand against the brick wall to keep from falling over. He couldn't even feel his feet let alone be sure he could walk on them. He looked to his uncle, a million questions racing through his head. If Cinaed knew Arathorn had left him his fortune, did his mother know? Did she know his father was back? Was she even alive? Where had she been for the past three years?

None of his burning questions made it past his lips, though. Instead he pulled a galleon out of his pocket, twirled it over his knuckles like a muggle con man doing 'magic' and handed it to his little cousin.

He glanced back at Nate, "sorry for the mess mate," with a side eye at his uncle he added, "an' the trouble."

Like some bastardly version of a three ring circus, Briggs was tossing his hands around and dancing like a demon-possessed marionette doll, Xavier was fumbling to his feet with the help of the brick wall and a very enthralled Fionn was expressing his delight in his older cousin's skillful handling of money with an enthusiastic laugh and clapping.  It was the definition of insanity.

And, their little performance was becoming progressively more intriguing to the passerbys, which meant it was more than time for Cinaed to get Fionn home.   

"Piss off, Briggs," Cinaed instructed, as he reached a strong arm out and grasped Xavier's upper arm.  It was unlikely Cinaed could go waltzing into Xavier's new home and hand him over to the Cook and waltz back out.  No.  Xavier would have to find his own way back to this Cook when he could do so of his own volition.

And, Cinaed would discard of the muggle woman who's appearance he'd been commandeering and he and Fionn would migrate to new digs.  Probably far from London - at least until any excitement from unavoidable Tawse sightings had settled. 

With a child perched in his arms, his wand held in the same hand, the handles of a carpet bag over the other arm whose hand was firmly grasping his nephew, Cinaed Tawse turned on the spot and disappeared from Knockturn Alley.  A child's delighted squeal and laughter followed in their wake.

"Piss off --?" Nate scoffed.

He watched with a weary detachment as the strangest scene unfolded in front of him. Giant of a viking Ex-Azzie in paisley and sensible shoes effortlessly collecting a ragdoll boy millionaire in one arm and a large purse and larger toddler in the other.

What?

Nate offered a one-fingered salute to see them off.

Soon they were gone. Soon after that Nate trudged back into the crumbling hotel to find his bed before dawn found him.