This was the first spring Cinaed had experienced since he'd mastered the art of animagus transfiguration and, to be honest, he'd never much considered the behavior of birds before.  Which was unfortunate.  There were some interesting aspects of the season that he probably would have benefited from planning for. 

Magpies tended to congregate in spring - even more so than during other seasons.  Pairs, trios and larger groups of them were not an uncommon sight around London.  He supposed the old tune had had to come from somewhere: One for sorrow, two for joy and on and on.  It was one thing to hum a tun when you saw the occasional pair of black and white birds.  It was another to experience, first hand, the relentlessness with which these birds would flock around you if they perceived you as one of their own.  They followed him everywhere.  Whenever he transformed, it was usually only a matter of minutes before one or two (or three, four, etc) of the feather heads congregated around him in a cacophony of loud cries and crows. 

Chasing them away made no difference.  They'd just evade his fluttering protestations and settle back when he'd stopped.  He'd finally stopped trying to fight the inevitable and started trying to figure out how he could use the persistent shadows to his advantage.  He'd started mimicking their behavior when transformed - figuring blending in with the crowd could only be to his advantage.  Even if the Ministry discovered his secret - even if one of the many targets he'd been stalking got suspicious they were being stalked - even if they were certain he was in the area, they'd still be looking at a flock of identical black and white crows. 

He'd now, officially, been a magpie for over a week: a small black and white shadow that had been the Ginger's shadow.  Most of the time, he followed Trevelyan proper though he did occasionally take to settling on a wire above the kids' school. 

His curiosity had been piqued ever since Chris had passed on the message from Trevelyan.  He'd been trying to surmise from observations what the man was after but it had proved difficult to confirm or deny any theories from a bird's eye view.  He'd seemed legitimately curious about Mannie's death but Cinaed was skeptical it was as simple as it seemed.  The man hadn't hesitated to betray him before; what was to say this wasn't an attempt at a repeat performance? Cinaed had every intentions of meeting with the man - but, before he did so, he had to make one thing very clear: the Ginger didn't hold all the cards.  If he wanted to betray and threaten Cinaed, Cinaed wouldn't hesitate to respond in kind.  If the man wanted to make it personal, Cinaed would oblige.

The Ginger had ducked into a restaurant, with his two children in tow.  As far as Cinaed could see, no one was following them.  There didn't appear to be any additional auror presence.  Cinaed landed in a side alley behind a dumpster.  The two magpies that had been flocking with him since yesterday landed next to him but took to sky immediately when Cinaed's form silently became human, again.  He pulled a small bottle of polyjuice from his pocket along with his wand.  A large gulp of the potion and a few quick transfiguration spells to his clothing and the form of the Katz woman he'd kidnapped the previous summer stepped out of the alleyway and towards the restaurant. 

There was a bit of a line inside the restaurant and Cinaed fell in line.  The Ginger, it appeared, was getting close to ordering - his kids were standing around, appearing bored.  Which meant they'd be open to distractions readily enough.  He offered them a welcoming smile and a nod. 

"Stop licking me," Gwenna Trevelyan hissed, glaring daggers at her younger brother.  "I already bloody told you, I know where you bloody well sleep.  Harah," she added for emphasis, spitting the word out like it was something deadly, even though she had no idea what it meant.

It was somewhat disappointing that her threats didn't have the same effect that they used to.  When her brother had been younger, Gwenna had been able to make him cry just by glaring at him and then rolling her eyes back in her head.  But now that he was almost seven, Artie barely seemed to notice the venom.  All her creative swearing only caused Artie to give a mournful shrug and then stare down at his shoes, tentatively wiggling his feet to make the lights on the side flash. 

Rolling her eyes with a huff, Gwenna yanked at her brother's shirt collar to remind him who had been left in charge, and then turned her attention sullenly to the queue.  She didn't even want Chinese food, but her father hadn't given them much of a choice.  With Mum working late again, he'd picked them up from the neighbors and dragged them off to get supper.  (Artie had managed to beat her to the punch by cheering when Dad had asked if they wanted Chinese, but Artie cheered for anything.  Gwenna didn't see how that should translate into getting to choose where they went for supper.)

She was standing there, still sulking, when she saw the movement out of the corner of her eye.  Artie, glancing at her slyly, nonchalantly raised his right hand to his mouth and touched the tip of his fingers to his barely protruding tongue.  Gwenna knew a sneak attack when she saw one.  Letting out a shriek, she attempted to kick her brother in the shins, which promptly turned into a wrestling match as he tried to shove his barely-dampened fingers into her face.

"Stop it!  I'll tell --"  Gwenna broke off furiously, searching the room for a likely ally.  Her father was nearly at the counter, blissfully chatting away to the woman next to him as he contemplated their order for Chinese food.  Yelling across the restaurant was probably trying her luck. Dad usually had a much longer fuse than Mum did, but apparently stealing his phone while they'd been stuck waiting in the car at the petrol station three nights before and downloading a whole host of applications  had been enough to push him beyond his limits.  He hadn't been in a very good mood with them ever since.

Usually, threatening to tell any military-looking official was enough to cowl her brother, but there wasn't a single piece of camouflage clothing in sight.  Scowling, Gwenna attempted to both wrestle her sibling into a head lock and scan the queue for help.  Maybe someone's mum, who would be suitably appalled that her brother was treating her this way.  Someone maternal.  But wasn't that --?

Her face lit up.  "Akiva!" Gwenna called in a hushed voice, and then slugged Artie in the stomach hard enough to distract him so that she could give the woman a hurried wave.  Shooting her brother a dirty look, she gestured for the librarian to come join them.

Unfortunately, the gesture had distracted her enough that Artie managed to seize the moment and twist free.  Letting out a cackle of delight, he darted forward and licked Gwenna right down the side of her face.

"Ewwww!  Ar-tie!"  Gwenna let out a moan, doing her best to keep the delight from showing in her expression.  Only her younger brother would be so stupid as to attack when an adult was there to witness.  "He licked me!" she announced to the woman, wounded pride evident in her tone.  "Can't you make him stop?  He's not supposed to lick, Dad said so, and I didn't even bite him this time.  Now you're in for it," she hissed at her little brother.  "She'll turn you into a bloody newt.  And I won't even miss you, I won't," she concluded icily, voice dripping with merciless sincerity.

There was definitely something about parenthood that made one view the world with an entirely new perspective.  Normally, Cinaed avoided humanoid beings under the age of - well, there had been no concrete age limit.  It had been more suggestive.  But, whatever the age, it was definitely beyond the licking phase.  It hadn't exactly been hard - most kids tended to steer clear of him.  Maybe it was the size or the hair or he somehow exuded ex-con but most kids tended to shuffle away from him to slip behind the skirt of the nearest adult. 

But, he now had one of his own.  And, he really hoped this licking thing wasn't a universal commonality among kids their age.  Perhaps, in the case of halfbloods and muggleborns, it was.  It did seem like a very muggle trait. 

The girl was scanning the restaurant for something or someone when she spotted Cinaed and she bought the disguise without question.  Cinaed offered the girl a smile and returned the wave, giving the man in front of her in the cue an apologetic grimace before moving off to join the kids.  And, no sooner had he reached them than the girl started complaining to him. 

"Ewww," he repeated - partly in solidarity with the girl and partly in all honesty.  The poor girl was completely in the right to think it was disgusting.  "Of course you wouldn't miss him."  Actually, given the girl's threat, she was showing some promise - more so than her brother, at least.  With the right upbringing, she might be salvageable.  And, if the WBA ever had their way, the girl would be removed and raised in a strong wizarding home, away from those unfortunate muggle influences and offered a chance.  Had they gotten to the boy early enough, he might have been worth something, too - so far, though, it was appeared like he lacked his sister's resilience.  It was a shame. 

"I'm sure he'd look very nice in a terrarium as a newt.  You wouldn't have to miss him at all - you'd see him whenever you fed him dead flies."  It occurred to him that this was probably not the route Katz would have taken to discourage the licking.  Unfortunately, polyjuice made one physically resemble an individual - it didn't give them insight into their parenting skills.  "Of course, there are potions you could wear - like a lotion.  If he licks you, the potion will turn him into stone."  Of course, that was not the potion's intended use but he was sure it'd still be effective.

Despite the presence of an obvious authority figure, Artie was still refusing to cooperate.  He flicked his tongue in and out of his mouth like a lizard -- he didn't even know what a newt was, Gwenna thought disgustedly -- and then sprung to attack her face.  Gwenna let out a shriek and then abandoned all appearance of propriety,  grabbing her younger brother by the arm and attempting to bite him on the neck. 

That, at least, had the desired effect.  Artie howled and took off like a shot across the room, making a beeline for their father.  Rolling her eyes, Gwenna glared as her brother buried himself in their father's side, grinding her teeth rather noisily before turning her attention back to Akiva.

"He always gets away with that," she informed the woman disgustedly, and then gave her best pleading look.  "Can't you turn him into a newt for it?  Or yell at him, or something?" she added, a note of hope creeping into her voice.  At least the librarian had seemed open to the newt idea.  "If he had to eat dead flies for a week, maybe he'd stop.  And me dad probably wouldn't even notice," she added with a scowl.  "He never cares if --"

"Gwen!"

Gwenna jerked back at the sound of her name.  Her father had already abandoned his place in line, Artie swung up into one arm, and was hurrying back towards them, moving as fast as he could with his bad leg.  Before she knew it, he was behind her, smiling politely at Akiva as his hand clamped down on his daughter's shoulder.

The touch startled her enough that she almost jumped.  Uh oh -- that meant trouble.  Gwenna wracked her brain, trying to figure out what she'd done, but the only thing that had happened in the past fifteen minutes was her biting Artie.  But he had licked her first!  The absolute unfairness of it all made her want to shriek.  Grinding her teeth horrifically, she writhed in her father's grip, trying to twist free so that she could give her brother the tattler a death glare that promised the tortures he'd receive once they were left alone, but her father held fast to the collar of her shirt. 

"Akiva," he remarked, his eyes following the woman as he gave her a pleasant smile.  "I wouldn't expect to run into you all the way out here.  Everything alright?" he asked, perfectly amicable, though he kept his hand so firmly on Gwenna's shoulder that it made her squirm again. "Seems like a bit of a trek to make just for takeout, innit?"

Cinaed was quickly discovering he was, likely, out of his league here.  Would the Katz women find these ... outbursts and antics amusing?  Endearing?  Was Cinaed supposed to somehow pretend all the shrieking and licking and yelling was pleasant?  It wasn't.  It was grating and aggravating.  Especially knowing, if he looked like his normal self, it wouldn't take much to convince the boy to be quiet.  But, that wasn't the purpose of this visit.  He had to play along.  For now, at least.   

The smile Cinaed plastered on the Katz woman's face when the girl turned back to him was still strained.  "How unfair," Cinaed sympathized.  Then, with a touch more honesty than anyone present was probably expecting, he added: "I would happily turn him into a newt if I could.  I'm not quite so confident I could turn him back, though."  Well, he wasn't sure if Katz could.  He wouldn't put too much effort into finding out if he could.  But, before he could give this prospect more consideration, the Ginger joined them with the boy who couldn't keep his tongue to himself.

"Oh, it wasn't much of a trek," Cinaed offered, as amicably as he could muster.  "I was out this way, already, doing some shopping.  Decided I'd get a bite to eat before heading home.  Are you a regular here?" 

Cinaed glanced between the squirming girl and the boy before turning back to the menu posted behind the counter.  "So many of them look like they could be quite good, it's hard to decide what to try.  I'd asked for some suggestions from those I passed on the way here but it can be hard to know who to trust and who will intentionally misguide you. Have you ordered, yet?"

Gwenna shifted uncomfortably under the unyielding grip.  The conversation had already descended into pleasantries; it wouldn't take long before the adults were chitchatting over the weather, or her father was pretending like he cared about sport again.  One would think that witches and wizards chose more interesting topics when they were being polite, but several days with the Eleors had taught her that Akiva and Dreogan were just as boring as her parents, if not more so.  This was the first time that Akiva had even mentioned a newt.  Most of the time, she just smiled and offered to bake cookies.

Above her, her father was still smiling politely.  "Yeah, we stop in every now and then," he said pleasantly, adjusting his grip on Artie.  Her younger brother shifted in Jonas's grip, squirming around until he locked gazes with Gwenna.  "Reckon the best thing you can do is give the place a try, and then raise hell if the food's bad.  Does almost as much good as blind trust sometimes."

Even if her father was clearly ignoring them, Artie hadn't broken eye contact.  The deliberate stare that he gave his sister was a challenge in and of itself.  Slowly, purposefully, he shifted his fingers to his mouth, letting them hover tantalizingly within reach of his tongue. 

Gwenna's eyes narrowed.  She knew what that meant.  With a sharp shake of her head, she glared furiously back at her brother, as if daring him to do it.  This wasn't playing fair!  'I know where you sleep,' she mouthed with exaggerated enunciation, and then pantomimed drawing a finger across her throat, gagging for effect.

"And yeah, we were just heading out to the car," Jonas replied, completely oblivious to the secret war that was on the verge of erupting around him.  He glanced at the counter, and then flashed Akiva a smile.  "Sorry to run on you, but we don't want the food to get cold.  Maybe we can catch up again next week, yeah?"

Akiva's mouth twitched up in an amicable, though tense, grin as Trevalyan excused himself and started herding the kids to the door.  Tawse turned his back to the trio and slipped his hands into his pocket as he stepped up towards the counter.  The fingers of his right hand closed delicately around the wand hidden in his pocket and ran gently over the smooth wood.  Carefully and subtly, he withdrew the wand just enough to flick it towards the door behind him.  There was a soft, almost inaudible click.

"I'll have the ... whatever that is," Cinaed requested as he gave the overhead menu his attention for the first time.  He wasn't exactly familiar with ethnic foods - the were a rather muggle concept, it seemed.  He hadn't a clue what most of the things on the menu were, but then he also wasn't there to eat.  There was a confused mumbling from behind him as one of the restaurant's other patrons tugged fruitlessly at the door.  A confused expression flickered across the face of the teen behind the counter as he got distracted by one of his coworkers going to the patron's aid.  "And, a stout," he added, the Katz woman's voice taking on an unexpected dark tone to draw the kid's attention back.   

The kid nodded, still looking quite confused.  He pulled his attention away from the server who was still trying to unstick the door.

Tawse tapped a finger on the counter.  "Yeah.  I'll take a seat."  The kid nodded, again and turned back to placing the order. 

Cinaed flashed a quick glance in Trevelyan's direction before crossing to one of the empty tables and taking a seat.  He pulled out a brown-papered cigarette and balanced it, unlit, between his lips.     

"But Daaaaad!" Gwenna let out unhappily, digging her heels into the ground as the pitch of her voice reached near-epic proportions.  "Why do we have to go?  I want to stay!"

"Gwenna."  He put an abnormal amount of force into the word, and his daughter's weight suddenly became heavy against his grip.  Jonas took a deep breath, let the air hiss out again.  The nice thing about having a ten-year-old was that he did not need her acquiescence or cooperation to physically move her, but this wasn't the time to fight her.

"Look, we can talk about this in the car," he informed Gwenna in a low voice, as he hauled her along by the back of her shirt.  "But I need you to listen right now, yeah?"

Gwenna's head dropped immediately -- the surefire sign of an upcoming sulk -- but at least she began to move her feet, apparently willing to propel herself under her own direction once more.  Jonas nearly let out a sigh of relief, adjusting his grip on Artie as he limped along behind his daughter, coming up short behind a man who was battling to open the restaurant's front door. 

He was so focused on the kids, so impatient to get the bloody hell out of there, that it took a moment for realization to hit.   The patron at the door, still struggling to open it, began calling for an employee to come and unlock it.  One of the waitstaff hurried over and began wrestling with the handle.  He rammed his shoulder into the wood repeatedly to try and unstick the lock, apologizing profusely, insisting that this sort of thing had never happened before. 

Abruptly, the pieces clicked into place.  Jonas froze, his thoughts racing as he stared blankly at the firmly shut exit.  Swallowing hard, he glanced back warily after the woman, forcing the uneasy feeling in his stomach to settle as he mentally ticked through his options. Calling in reinforcements was out.  Adon's phone might not necessarily work if he were home or at the Ministry, and Jonas had no way of knowing who else might be nearby, how outnumbered he might currently be.  He couldn't leave Gwenna and Artie alone or send them to the car -- even if they didn't lick each other to death in the process, he'd rot in a bloody hell before he'd abandon his children when he knew some bastard was about. 

There was only one other option.  The thought of bringing the kids with him when he went to talk to the "woman" at the table, of having them sit through whatever threats and dark promises she wanted to deliver, sent chills down his spine -- but he didn't have a choice.  Setting his jaw, Jonas adjusted his arm around Artie, and then looked down at Gwenna.

"Look, everything's going to be alright," he informed them both in the calmest, most reassuring voice he could muster.  Both children were watching him, Artie with big, dark eyes and Gwenna with an increasingly worried expression, her gaze shifting between her father and the seemingly stuck door.  He had to keep his cool; as long as he stayed calm, then they would, too.  "Someone wants to talk to me, so they've done themselves up with magic to look like Akiva.  So we'll go chat, and then we'll head home with the three of us, yeah?" he asked reasonably, as if people disguised themselves as family friends on a daily basis just for an excuse to chitchat.  "Reckon you can keep quiet for a bit whilst we talk?"

Artie buried his face against his shoulder, which was likely meant in agreement.  Gwenna watched him for a moment longer, her eyes wary, and then gave a brief, anxious nod.  That was probably the best he could hope for.  Jonas let out the breath he'd been holding, shifting his grip from Gwenna's shoulder to her hand, and then started back across the room, keeping his leg straight to minimize the limp as his gaze locked on the woman sitting at the table.

For all intents and purposes, she could have been Akiva.  Same features, same voice -- just the logic defied it, as did the dark mug of beer that was just being delivered by a confused-looking serving boy. That answered the question of who was waiting for him better than anything else could. 

"You've got a funny way of striking up a friendly conversation," he informed the woman coolly, lowering himself to slide onto the opposite bench.  He kept his right arm around Artie, put his left around Gwen as she edged onto the seat next to him, and then leveled a look at the figure across the table.  "Reckon it might be hard to believe, but trying to spook me isn't going to make me any more likely to cooperate with you, mate.  You would've gotten a lot farther by just sending an owl."

With a small but bright flare, a match burst into light and licked around the end of the cigarette.  Smoking in public was, according to Christian, some heinous crime in the muggle world.  The locale's authority figures - the young twenty-somethings - were still too preoccupied with the firmly locked door to bother harassing him. 

Trevelyan settled himself across the table with the ill-mannered licker and the slightly more tolerable girl.  "About that turning your brother into a newt," Cinaed offered in a casual, conversational tone, a smirk curling around the lip of his mug as he took a drink.  He ignored Trevelyan at first and kept his attention focused on the girl.  "Better yet, could always teach you to do the deed yourself, then, you can do the honors anytime you need."  He assumed the girl was capable.  Even if the man had defiled himself with a muggle, the children were more than likely magically capable. 

He propped the smoke between his lips, freeing his hand to tug out a small pocketwatch.  Twenty minutes before the polyjuice was likely to start wearing off.  Not that it mattered, of course.  The ruse was already up.  If the muggle's got confused and panicked by the sudden human transformation, well ... the Ministry was bound to learn through Trevelyan that Cinaed had been here.  Might as well give the Ministry as much busy work to do as possible.  Not to mention, if push came to shove, Cinaed wasn't entirely sure animagus transfiguration worked when his body was morphed into another's.  He should remember to test that. 

"And leave a parchment-trail to a planned meeting?"  Cinaed's gaze slid from the girl to Trevelyan.  Did the man really think him that much of a fool?  "And, I assume, I should have also trusted you wouldn't invite some friends along to the meeting?  You've violated my trust before, friend.  I wasn't intending on making the same mistake twice.  Given the circumstances, I figured a planned and controlled meeting with plenty of business insurance would help ensure my continued ... independence."  He took another sip of his beer.  "I wouldn't advise trying to leave before I think this conversations complete.  I'll just keep following you.  You'll have to second guess every familiar and strange face you see."

Cinaed leaned back against the back of the booth and draped an arm over the back of it.  "Is betraying clients a common business practice?  And, do you offer refunds?"   

It took Gwenna a moment too long for Jonas's liking to dissolve into a scowl.  He wasn't quite sure which possibility worried him more:  that his daughter might decide to make a lunging attack across the table with her incisors, or that she might decide that the look-a-like librarian's offer was tantalizing and try to take her up on it.  Either way, he kept his arm firmly around her, holding her in place just in case she decided to bolt.

The so-called librarian beat her to the punch, though.  Jonas could barely believe what he was hearing:  Following him?  He'd have to keep second guessing?  Despite the severity of the situation -- despite the fact that he had no doubt that the woman sitting across the table meant every word she said -- he couldn't help himself.  He burst out laughing.

"Tell you what.  I'll just start on doing that, then," he informed Akiva cheerfully, struggling to swallow his grin.  This was not going to solve anything, but the words tumbled out before he could think better of it.  "Here I've been, blindly trusting every bloke I come across, going about me life like there's not a chance in bloody hell that anyone could come after me.  Reckon I owe you one, mate, for opening me eyes up to that.  Never know what might have happened otherwise."

He swallowed hard, fighting to get himself back under control.  Even though he shouldn't, he felt considerably more at ease than he had a few moments before.  The wary, uneasy caution still lurked just under the surface, but it didn't seem that Tawse -- if it was Tawse -- had come here to kill anyone.  Implying that Akiva-Two was here to have a conversation felt decidedly less ominous than other possibilities, even if his teeth still clenched at the thought that she'd been alone with the kids.

No.  Chances were, this was as much a result of the message he'd passed on as it was a threat.  And even if the visit was intended as an ominous warning, the pattern had been well established.  If Akiva-Two had wanted him dead, she could have disguised herself as anyone and hexed him or the kids when his back was turned.  Whatever her eventual purpose, she was clearly here because she intended to say something first.

"Is betraying clients a common business practice?  And, do you offer refunds?"

"Not usually," he said, keeping his face straight and his voice calm as he freed his arm from around Gwenna and dug into his pocket for his wallet.  Once out, he began to shuffle through it.  "Refunds aren't a normal practice either, but I reckon I can make an exception.  You'll have to take the bank notes out yourself, though," he said easily, pulling out a debit card and flicking it across the table to the woman.  There was no way he'd ever get that lucky, but it was impossible to win the lottery without risking a quid and buying a ticket.

He returned his wallet to his pocket, draping his arm back around his daughter's shoulders and ignoring the imminent growl that emerged deep from her throat.  Deep breath.  He was calm.  Even if Gwenna attempted to gnaw someone's arm off, he'd still stay calm.

"That all you came here for, mate?" he asked, eyebrows raising and expression cool.  "Seems a shame, when Colburn went through all the trouble of passing on the message.  If you've got a few minutes, there's a couple of things I was hoping to ask you about Manfred Ashford."

A slow, shallow grin stretched across Cinaed's face as he heard the humor and sarcasm in the other man's voice.  He was filled with a temptation to prove to the man how foolish his laughter was.  But, until recent events, Cinaed had held a certain amount of respect for the man sitting across from him and, to some degree, some respect still lingered.  As long as that respect remained, Cinaed was less inclined to act on his impulses. 

But, while grinning, Cinaed had felt the tell tale signs of the effects of the polyjuice potion starting to fade.  While the transformation itself was almost impossible to feel, the itchiness of returning facial hair and the growing distance between himself and the table was not. 

Those idiots at the muggle appropriate excuses office were going to be busy this evening.  Which was entirely their problem. 
Cinaed watched as the card was tossed across the table.  There was no doubt that this was a poker move, though there was little to reveal what his opponent was holding in his hand.  Perhaps Trevelyan was hoping to track him with the thing.  Perhaps, he was hoping to catch him whenever Cinaed tried to do whatever it was that muggles did with those cards.  He'd need Chris' help to figure that bit out.  It was probably an incredibly risky thing to do but he took the card, slipping it into his pocket.  He had no intentions of holding onto it for longer than a few minutes after they were through but there were any number of ways he could have fun with it in the meantime. 

"Nope.  In fact, had a few questions myself.  Sounds like we're generally overdue for a chat.  Dale.  The previously unregistered werewolf lass.  She's sniffing around Knockturn again.  Getting cozy with the crowd.  As her employer, I figured you might know how she got out of that March mess scot free?"

But, Trevelyan's question indeed caught Cinaed's curiosity.  "Mannie?" He asked, making no efforts to hide his surprise.  "Didn't reckon the Ministry cared much about him.  Course.  If the Ministry's not willing to bring his murderer to justice, there's many of us who'll pick up the slack.  But, if you have questions, why not ask him yourself." 

Jonas didn't bother to hide the troubled expression that crossed his face at the mention of his former employee.  He didn't know very much about Lexus's current deception -- Radley was handling her, and they were all safer for it.  Requiring the Canadian werewolf to go undercover had been a necessary evil, and the dangers she faced now were all too real.  The thought that he'd put her in that situation, that she'd trusted him enough to say yes to it, was one that sometimes made it difficult to sleep at night.  If Jonas were to suddenly get word that she'd vanished and gone on the run again, he couldn't say that he'd feel entirely disappointed.

That wasn't what Akiva/Tawse was asking now, though.  He wanted an explanation, and the truth seemed the safest one to give.

"Lex?" he asked, meeting the woman's gaze.  Her eyes were decidedly darker than they'd been a moment ago, and seemed to be inching apart on her rather larger face.  Jonas blinked, and then swallowed, deciding that this was something he'd rather just accept and not mention.  Far better to just continue with the conversation.

"Yeah.  They were going to deport her or kill her," he said steadily.  Next to him, Gwenna was twitching, staring with ill-concealed awe at Akiva's chin, which looked to be well on its way to springing up a miniature forest of blonde hairs.  "Raynor owed me after Scotland, so I called in a couple of favors and got her out."  He took a deep breath, and then slowly let it out.  "I thought she was leaving town, though," he admitted, meeting TawsKiva's disconcerting gaze with a frown.  "When'd you see her last in Knockturn?"

Making eye contact with an individual who was quickly mutating into someone else, Jonas decided, was not something that he ever wanted to repeat in his life.  Watching as his best mate's brother's fiancee slowly expand outwards as if she were being inflated, while her hair began to slowly stretch and creep downwards and tiny follicles popped into being along her face and arms, was a slightly nauseating experience.  Thankfully, it also had the side benefit of fascinating Gwenna and Artie; neither of his children had ever been this quiet for so long.  Jonas would simply have to hope that the Muggles present in the restaurant didn't notice that he'd started to talk to a woman and ended in conversation with a walking carpet of a man.

At least his request about Ashford seemed to have caught the man/woman entirely by surprise.

"I'm not asking for the Ministry," Jonas said truthfully, giving a shrug.  "I liked Ashford.  I'd heard he'd been killed, so I got curious when I got hired a couple of months back and glanced through the casefile.  But once you start reasoning some of it out, there're some bits that don't quite add up, no matter what --"

He broke off, his forehead creasing, as the last few words finally sunk in.

"Wait -- what do you mean, ask him?"  He stared at Tawse -- who was clearly well on the road to becoming Tawse now -- looking genuinely befuddled.  "Bit of a trick to do that when he's dead, innit?"

The worry that flickered blatantly across Trevelyan's features was met with satisfaction on Cinaed's part.  The man's unsettled discomfort was, in contrast to Trevelyan's foolish laughter a few moments before, much closer to the dynamic Cinaed expected of the exchange.  Unfortunately, the worry didn't reveal much in the way of useful information - it probably showed more about what Trevelyan didn't know than what he did know. 

Cinaed dipped his chin in confirmation, feeling the familiar sensation of thick facial hairs shifting in their pores at the motion.  He couldn't see the ends of his beard when he looked down which meant he still wasn't completely back to his usual form, yet.  "Lexus Dale.  Yes.  She was an unregistered werewolf.  From what I've heard, the Ministry came down pretty hard on them."  Which, Trevelyan's next words confirmed.  She'd been in some pretty hot water.  And, apparently, "she got out on a simple favor?  Must have been an impressive favor.  But, it doesn't look like she has any intentions of leaving town.  Was that part of this 'favor?'" 

"Yes.  Let me just whip out my monthly planner and tell you all about my comings and goings."  It was Cinaed's turn to laugh, slightly, as he shook his head.  "Nice try."  Whether or not the man across from him had been purposefully attempting to get confirmation of Cinaed's movements in and around Knockturn, Cinaed had no interest in sharing that information.  Who knew what little snippets of information the Ministry could piece together to establish patterns or schedules or ... whatever else they did with information.  "I've heard she has been around.  Since the last full moon.  That's all you really need to know." 

Despite himself, despite their respective positions on opposites sides of the legal line drawn in the sand, Cinaed listened closely and aptly to Trevelyan as he described his interest in Mannie's case.  Finding out the truth behind Mannie's death was, ultimately, important enough for him to take advantage of whatever alliances (temporary or otherwise) might prove helpful.  He'd started to shake his head, confirming that the information didn't add up when Trevelyan quickly changed tactics.

"Aren't you a wizard?"  Cinaed asked, not giving much thought or effort to hiding his voice.  What was a violation of the Statute of Secrecy on top of the list of charges the Ministry had against him, already.  He doubted it was going to make the difference between being tossed back in Azkaban and giving the Ministry enough reason to reforge their alliances with the dementors in his case.  "He's dead but, I guess, his spirit didn't want to go on.  Or however that works.  The Chimaera can officially add 'haunted' to its list of tourist attractions, either way.  Manfred drifted his way back into the Chimaera a month or so after he was killed.  Don't think he knew his way that well around London."  Mannie's ghost, Cinaed imagined, had put a whole new definition to the phrase 'drifting aimlessly.' 

It was really quite impressive, how quickly the human brain could adjust to extraordinary circumstances.  Here he was, chitchatting with a family friend who was slowly mutating into an enormous, hairy man, and already he was beginning to accept this as a matter of course.  No one else in the restaurant had even commented yet.  Jonas wasn't sure if that was because they just hadn't noticed or were still fussing with the door, but he wasn't about to turn around and check.  It was all he could do to stay focused on the conversation, instead of outright marveling at the fact that he was capable of carrying on said conversation while barely batting an eye.

TawsKiva was still growing, slowly stretching toward the ceiling as her blonde hair elongated towards the floor, becoming an unruly mane.  Blonde hair -- the last time he'd seen Akiva, she'd been a brunette, but that had admittedly been at least a few weeks prior.  Jonas filed that bit of information away as well, instead trying to focus on what the man-woman was saying.

Replying to Tawse and admitting that yes, he was a wizard though he was currently incapable of proving it did not seem the best idea, considering his long term goals of staying alive.  But a ghost -- Jonas blinked, a distant, thoughtful look crossing his face.  Well, at least that was helpful.  Why the bloody hell didn't all murder victims think that way?  It would save a hell of a lot of trouble -- hell, it might even put the Aurors out of business, not that he'd complain about losing that part of their work.  Really, it was a brilliant idea.  Maybe they ought to launch a public awareness campaign, put it out  there before the magical populace -- If you're about to get murdered or die in mysterious circumstances, save your loved ones a headache and remember to become a ghost...

Jonas blinked.  Tawse had stopped talking.

"Well, the beer's good enough that there's one reason, innit?" he managed with a weak smile.  "That or he missed the company."

This conversation, fascinating though it had proven to be, wasn't the reason that he had made the effort to try and get in touch with Tawse.  Well, really, he'd been curious if it would work.  But getting down to it, there had been one question that he had wanted to ask the Scotsman -- one that Chris Colburn would have been no help in answering.

"Look, I know this is a bit rude, just up and asking," he started apologetically.  This was the sort of conversation where, if he actually thought about who he was talking to or what he was saying, the entire thing would fall apart.  Here he was, sitting across the table from the Ministry's most wanted criminal, watching him transform from a woman into a man, and he was apologizing for accusing him of murder?  If he ever told Adon about this part of the evening, the Israeli would probably slug him.  This was far too British for any sane person to take.

Jonas cleared his throat, managing an expression halfway between politely inquisitive and helplessly amused, and went on.  "But, you know, circumstances dictate that it's a bit difficult to be anything but abrupt about it.  Were you the one who put the Imperious Curse on Ashford before he died?" he asked Tawse with a frown.  "I'd give you the speech about self incrimination, et cetera, but I can't reckon that matters to you much at this point."

"Wished he thought it through more," Cinaed remarked as much to himself as to Trevelyan.  Mannie hadn't been the most interesting or charming bloke in life.  Cinaed had no idea if there had ever been any joy or optimism in the man back in the days before Azkaban; if there was, it was hard to picture it.  And, now that the man was dead, he had an eternity to find things to complain about. 

Marveling briefly at the superficially casual nature of the current stage of their conversation, Cinaed chuckled and shook his head.  "Had he thought it through, he might have remembered ghosts can't drink."  A fact which Mannie reminded them all about regularly. 

Cinaed rubbed his chin as the man across from him apologized, drawing the length of his beard through his hand, curling the tip of half of the goatee around his fingers.  By feel, he guessed he was probably almost completely back to his normal appearance; by the expression on the youngsters, it was a safe assumption. 

Had any other words preceded the comment about not being told his rights, Cinaed might have made some smart comment about how it probably didn't matter much anymore; things really couldn't get much worse than they already were.  He'd past he point the return and, by all appearances, Trevelyan knew that as well.  But, given the other man's question, there wasn't any room for humor. 

"Mannie was imperioused?  The Ministry is certain of this?"  Unless Trevelyan believed Cinaed would attempt to lie about such a topic, his response should have been a sufficient answer.  "I knew he couldn't have been acting on his own principles; Mannie wouldn't have risked returning to Azkaban for the lives of a few worthless muggles.  I'd assumed someone had set him up - even blackmailed him.  This..."  Cinaed grew silent as he considered this bit of information.  "This rules out most people beyond Knockturn."  An unforgivable had been used; that, in its own right, narrowed down the list of suspects to those already prone to criminal behavior.  "But, I can't think of many in Knockturn who would have done this."

"So - he'd been helpless when that recreant murdered him?  Do they have any leads as to why he was there in the first place?  Who'd have sacrificed the life of a wizard for a bunch of muggles?  What was there to be gained?"  In the back of his mind, Cinead knew there was little reason for Trevelyan to offer him any information; he certainly wasn't obligated.  But, for whatever reason, on this front they seemed to share a common goal: to solve a crime that, Cinaed assumed, the Ministry had probably swept under the rug.

"It shouldn't matter if he was an ex-Azzie.  He deserves to not let this be ignored.  Someone should pay."