1835 hours


He boarded the lifts on level nine, flipping through the folder that he was tasked to hand in to three. Last minute paperwork for the imminent arrival of the meteor on Sunday - Yavin was keeping Catastrophes up to date but he preferred sending Unspeakables upstairs instead of using memos or other forms of delivery. It was safer. Or at least they thought it was.

The floor dial swivelled smoothly to eight, stopping with a ding! Virgil shut his file to look up and found himself staring in surprise.

Tristain Vaillancourt joined him in the carriage, smooth and pale countenance giving nothing away; he was dressed in a formal suit but the unbuttoning of cuffs and collars gave the vampire a casual appearance. The doors slid close and he looked at Virgil, in greeting, a close mouthed smile. The smile tilted somewhat, a frown forming between his dark brows. His nose wrinkled like he was trying to sniff something out.

"Um. Good evening." Virgil tried, something in his stomach clenching anxiously while his heart raced. Shit. The lift continued its smooth ascent upwards. Did Vaillancourt know? Did Hooker tell him what happened[1] earlier in the week? Why was he looking at him like that?

Quite without warning, Tristan stepped closer and leaned in. He was quiet and quick, one hand raised to Virgil's neck - he pressed two fingers against it. Against where the scar could be seen if it hadn't been disguised by an illusion charm. Virgil wanted to step away but his back was already pressed against the lift wall.

They were about the same height. Vaillancourt had a couple of inches on him, which made the act rather more intimate than he wanted. Tristan clicked his tongue and pressed his fingers harder on the bite.

            "You shouldn't hide this," he breathed against Virgil's face, a sharp and metallic fragrance. "It belongs to you now."

Ding! The lift doors opened on level four, revealing Solomon Carstairs in one of his meeting suits. The bespectacled wizard startled a little at the sight of the two of them. "For Merlin's sake, can't you take it outside of the Ministry?" he muttered as he entered, "It's not even the holidays yet."

Virgil wanted the floor to swallow him up, catching sight of Vaillancourt's self-satisfied smirk. The vampire stepped back and bowed his head slightly at the department head before alighting on the fourth floor. The doors closed again and Virgil slumped against the lift wall, glancing at his oblivious older cousin. 

He relaxed his grip on the folder in his hands. The bite marks might have healed but he could feel them nonetheless, burning.

1.	4th December - The Freakiest Show