It was already after nine, and the club was clearly picking up for the evening.  The music was pounding, the energy was building, and the dance floor was so packed with British Muggles that it was unbelievable that anyone could move without crashing into someone else's elbow. 

They'd retreated from the hypnotic flashing lights and the deafening, thudding rhythms for the relative sanity and shelter of the bar.  Raizel had bribed Adon into coming out tonight by offering to buy him a drink -- just one, she had specified, and he'd be on his own to negotiate the rest -- for his birthday, which had taken place a week prior.  Their unspoken understanding was that going out to the club like this was a chance to get away.  Business would be left for another day.  Raizel didn't have to think about Gringotts or Josephine St. Just or death prophecies or Benny, except the last one maybe a little bit.  She could relax, Adon could lighten up and not take things so seriously for an evening, and they could both go dancing, have a few drinks, and maybe set something on fire.  It was just like old times -- minus the constant insults and the room-shaking explosions, so long as neither of them lost their temper.

For the moment at least, Raizel didn't feel particularly like biting Adon's head off like she might have back in school.  She tapped a finger against her martini glass, giving the Auror a wry look as he finished a very animated story that had broken the 'No Work' rule for the third time that night.

"That is good advice.  I will have to remember it for the next time that someone decides to disrespect me," she replied, flashing him a appreciative smile as he finally reached the object lesson of his tale.  "It's too bad you couldn't make the paper balls multiply and explode, though.  Perhaps that would teach them not to leave you presents."

She pressed her tongue against the back of her teeth, looking thoughtfully around the room.  "Hmm..."  Their current bar game was good for a quick change of subject whenever Adon started getting surly, but her latest martini was almost empty.  The biggest problem with 'Who Got the Better Deal?' was that there were no real way to win.  If she wanted to convince the Auror that he was paying for the next round of drinks, she'd have to come up with some more competitive form of entertainment to beat him at soon.

"There," she murmured, her eyes alighting on a couple across the room.  In looks, they were evenly matched: the girl was slight and slender with dark hair done up in a knot, offset by a sparkling necklace and a pretty black dress; the man was fairly handsome, with a build she'd associate with an athlete or a more-career soldier.  But they did not look to be very happy.  The girl was speaking intently and quickly, her eyes flicking and forth between her date and the rest of the room -- checking to see if he was listening and making sure that no one else did.  The man just looked unhappy.  His body was still turned towards her, but his attention was fixed on the crowd.  He responded to a question every so often, lifting his glass to take a sip of a drink that was now mostly melted ice.

Raizel glanced back at Adon, flashing him a smile.  "The two at the table," she said nicely, using the two good fingers on her right hand to gesture nonchalantly in their direction.  "The girl in the black dress, with the boy next to her.  Which one, hmm?"  She arched her eyebrows, meeting his gaze in a teasing challenge.  "She's very pretty," she pointed out with a wry smile.  "And she has money, judging by the necklace."

Raizel was being remarkably kind this evening. Either work was going well for her--but they weren't allowed to talk about work--or he'd done something right--besides surviving yet another year. Something that seemed to be more and more of a feat as the days crawled on. But yeh, they weren't talking about that, either.

Initially, Adon had been skeptical of Raizel's sudden good mood--she wasn't arguing against his every word, and she was smiling a lot.  That suspicion ebbed, however, as soon as the light touches and leaning had started.  And, coincidingly, they had gathered more and more glasses about them at the bar.

"Yeh, well... considering Archer shoved one of them down Jonas' throat, I'd say the lack of explosions could be something of an advantage. Even if the bastards didn't wrap anything new up."

He gave a slight shrug.  "S'alright. I'm a generous person." He grinned--feeling the need to give the line that, when coupled by a broad, white smile, seemed to provide him with a generous, if not unlimited, supply of drinks thus far: "It's my birthday."

He gave a relaxed, pleased-with-himself smile and leaned in closely to her to see where she was pointing. Leggy brunette. A good choice, and definitely doa-- Wait, no, that was not the game they were playing.

He considered her list of reasons.  "Or she's got his money.  Which, let's be realistic here, that's probably the more likely..." He squinted as he considered the man.  The miserable man with the flirtatious, cruel-looking sort of girl. 

"Neither.  He thinks he's got the better deal, but that's just because he's too scared to give it up.  And she clearly thinks she's settling.  If she wasn't so--" he gestured vaguely, nearly sloshing a bit of his beer. Really, was this a time or place for words? "then maybe I'd say she got the better deal.  But she'd never see it anyhow."

He frowned as he considered his beer.  "But she's hot."

Even if they hadn't been through the motions a dozen times before, Raizel could have predicted the response.  Male, wounded party.  Girl, flirtatious and clearly at fault, but still irresistibly attractive.  It was a wonder that Adon Eleor had lasted any time at all in the real world, let alone survived so many years in two equally dangerous careers.  If she were in the business of giving advice to enemies of the magical government, Raizel would have suggested that they send femmes fatales after the entire Auror Corps.

Still, she hadn't invited him out tonight so she could argue with him, or call attention to one of the numerous chips on her onetime good friend's shoulder.  Raizel laughed, flashing Adon a smile as she let her fingers graze over his hand.

"Well, if she's hot, then he got the better deal by default, yeh?" she asked, smiling at him.  This was the friendly sort of competition; teasing but not malicious.  Adon needed to relax, and she needed to do something that wasn't thinking about smugglers or goblins or any other problems.  "Maybe you should try to catch her eye.  You could sweep her away with your foreigner's charm and free him from his too-worthy burden."

Which, considering the number of empty glasses strewn on the counter in front of them, he would probably attempt to do, she realized a half second later.  Raizel looped her hand firmly around his arm, tightening her grip to keep him in place.

"You know," she said, tugging on his shirt to make certain that he was facing towards her.  "We can play a different game."  She smiled at him, tilting her head toward her now empty glass.  "You figure out how to get me another drink, and maybe I'll answer a question for you, yes?  Anything that you want to know," she told him with a dazzling smile.  "I think maybe you won't even have to pay for it, since it's your birthday and the bartender likes you."

"Unworthy," he corrected. He didn't like that woman. She had a sort of shrewishness, for all she was hot.  She probably sharpened her nails for this occasion.  He regarded Rai, who was once more smirking. She probably had worn out her nail file, too.  Adon's thoughts went from casual contempt to hitched-breath anticipation, however, as she tugged on his shirt, pulling him easily (he wasn't exactly resisting) towards her. We could play a different game. Adon'd already signed himself up, with a cocky smile.

There was a certain roughness in her movements--He liked rough, but after hearing her request, he frowned, realizing it was not that sort of game. There were rules. And only one competitor: him.  In this game of hers, Raizel had only to watch and win--either by proving him incapable of delivering, or getting her way--and her drink.  That was the way of things, wasn't it?  Calculating little devil--and he didn't even really have the will to... which was to say that it wasn't that he couldn't, only that he'd rather not go to the effort to... prove her wrong.

Moloch, he was drunk.  He glanced in the direction of the bartender.  "Her name's Tamera..." he considered, slowly as he watched the brunette lean across the counter to deliver a drink to a waiting patron. "Rai..." he said, eyes still on the bartender. "Remind me to not make any life-impacting decisions tonight..." Fun and games were just that--best to steer clear of anything else.

But he wouldn't back down from a challenge.  If the girl in the black dress was to be off limits, that was to say nothing of the girl behind the bar. And at her request, too! Victory was his.  He'd get one or the other, by the end of the evening.

Once more donning his confident smirk, Adon sidled up to the smooth, black counters, resting an arm on it to lean in. 

"Hello, again," she said, polishing a glass and setting it down. 

Adon smiled.

"Still your birthday?"

Adon made a show of checking his watch. "Yes, in fact. It is."

"Who's your friend?"

Adon quirked an eyebrow, then turned to see the direction the woman pointed. "Ah. That," he frowned significantly, "is my ex."  He gave a single, wry laugh.  "I am her troll-repellent in these places, and it allows her to peruse the men as she pleases. She's set her eyes on that poor fellow." Adon now gestured to the same couple from before, the military man.  "I only came tonight because she said she'd buy me almost any drink." He smiled more broadly.  "At any rate. I was thinking. Tomorrow--"

The bartender raised one, unimpressed eyebrow. Adon kept his game-face on strong. Plastered smile.

"She won't be here. And while it won't be my birthday..." He tried for a more suave smile.  "...if you're also not here, I thought we could... celebrate. Properly."

Tamera gave the statement some consideration.  "And how do I know you're not involved with her?"

"Because she's about to get that guy's number.  Here--give her some liquid courage, and she'll be off my hands. Promise."

Adon didn't know if it was a promise. But if Tamera gave the drink to give to Raizel, he did something Raizel didn't think he could.  He won.  And if Tamera didn't--he was pretty sure he could spur Raizel into spitefully hitting on another man. Which would mean a date with the hot bartender later, anyways.  It was all so clear; so brilliant.

Adon was a freaking birthday-boy genius.

The bartender slid a martini across the counter, a challenging look in her eye that made Adon give a slow, throaty laugh in response. "If she goes to that man--you'll get my number."

With a wink, Adon turned from the bar, only spilling a small portion of the drink when some drunk jostled into him.  He handed it over to Raizel.  "So," he said, cheekily.  "Birthday martini. Happy birthday."

He watched her for several long moments, considering how--in this maze of challenges--to get the girl, and get the information.  Damn it, it was his birthday. Presents weren't supposed to be this hard to get. People were just supposed to give it to him. 

"For the record, you've been outvoted 2-1.  Tamera also thinks she got better deal."

It was impressive how easy this was.  Raizel watched the mage go with a languid, confident smile, completely at ease with herself and the situation.  Getting people to do what she wanted was like learning the steps to a particularly complicated dance; even if it was a challenge at first, once she knew the rhythms and movements, everything fell into place with a natural grace. With Adon, turning any request into a competition was key.  He could never resist trying to best her; all she had ever had to do was imply that maybe he couldn't, and he'd be off like a shot.

Adon was already on the other side of the room.  He rested his elbow on the counter, leaning in as he exchanged obviously flirtatious banter with the bartender.  Raising her eyebrows, Raizel leaned back herself, perching on her bar stool as she lazily watched his progress.  Either the Auror was going to accomplish the task that she'd set out for him, or she'd be able to guilt him into buying her a drink when he returned empty-handed.  Either way, it was a sure victory.

Adon's skills at flirting had apparently not diminished in the decade since she'd known him well.  All too quickly, he was stumbling back again, with a cheeky look to his eye and a martini in hand.  Raizel arched an eyebrow at him as she accepted the drink, eyeing it for a moment as if judging its quality, and then took a long, evaluative sip.

"That is acceptable," she informed him at last, giving him an appraising look as she set the martini glass carefully on the table.  He might have proven himself up to the most immediate challenge, but she knew what the real competition was about.  Letting Adon win minor victories kept him pliable for when she really wanted something.

Not that this was all just to manipulate him -- well, it was, Raizel thought as she reached for his hand, but this time around, the manipulations were for his own good.  It was nice to see Adon relaxed and confident, not tense, terrified, and seemingly on the verge of breaking, like he had been recently.  His fears about his brother's prophecy, his worries about his own potential death were wearing him down more than she could ever remember seeing in him.  Even when he had lashed out after his father's disappearance as a teenager so many years before, he had not seemed this dangerously volatile.  Raizel could deal with his over-the-top, cocky charm for one night if it meant getting him to let go of the weight on his shoulders and have a little fun.

"Then that is twice that you've won," she observed, giving him a wry smile as she brought his hand to her waist.  "A record, I think?"  She smiled, tugging at his shirt sleeve to urge him closer.  "So I owe you two things," she said, arching her eyebrows as she gave the Auror a quizzical, challenging look.  "I will have to remember not to take you out for your next birthday, if this is how lucky you are when you go out to celebrate."

"Huh," Adon said, unimpressed.  "If it's just acceptable, I'll have it myself, thanks," he said, holding out his hand.

But Raizel had other plans for that hand.  As soon as his hand grabbed her waist, his thumb caressing gently, he realized: he might have won twice, but he'd lost at least once.  That woman at the bar, Tamera, was certainly not going to find this acceptable.

Raizel had not even looked at the man she'd found so attractive earlier.

But then, on the other hand... Raizel had not even bothered to look at the man she'd found so attractive earlier.  Which was a definite win.  "I," he said, challengingly, "am always lucky."  And, for the past month, it had almost always been his birthday. So perhaps there was some correlation in that.  He grinned and shook his head.  "You have been, too, I think," he said, nodding towards the martini and pulling a bit closer.

There was some saying about birds, hands and bushes.  All Adon knew was that Raizel was in his hands, and he was going to play his hand well in this game, because hands... birds...

Adon leaned in, tilting Raizel's chin up lightly and pressed his lips against hers. 

---

Very late in the morning, August 8.


The coffee had taken at least as long to prepare as breakfast.  That was because making coffee was an art form, Adon had said.  Well, not said -- he had simply turned his nose up at even the suggestion that he could cook breakfast and she could brew the coffee, and had then spent the next however-long-it-had-taken bustling importantly around the kitchen.  After a token protest, Raizel had let it go and resigned herself to cooking the eggs instead.  Being hungover brought a certain amount of peace to their exchanges; they both felt too awful to really argue.

With a perfectly unreadable expression, Raizel studied the dark liquid inside her cup.  She lifted it carefully, and then sniffed, finally taking a small, thoughtful sip.  The coffee was hot and thick; it tasted full, rich, and just slightly bitter as it scalded her tongue. Swallowing, she slanted a look at her host, tilting her head to the side as she regarded him bemusedly.

"It is --"  Raizel paused.  She had no intention of apparating anywhere so early in the day, especially when her head was still pounding. Adon had made it painfully clear how welcome she would be at his flat if the word 'acceptable' were included in any part of her critique.

"Decent," she concluded, favoring Adon with a smile.  "Perhaps even very good.  I concede that you might be better at making coffee than I am," she said lazily, waving a hand in his direction.  "You can make another pot after this one, if you wish." 

There was a strategy, really, to letting him think that he'd won, Raizel thought as she reclined in her chair, stretching her legs out and crossing her ankles under the kitchen table.  Too many failures, and Adon would get frustrated.  That was the trick that she hadn't learned yet when they were at Gaddol.  It was a careful line to tow because she had no interest in losing constantly, either, but in times like these -- especially in times like these, when the alternative was letting him become unendingly boring by doing nothing but sulking and moping -- she could afford to toss him a few bones.

"I suppose that's another victory that you can add to your tally," she added nicely, supporting the cup of scalding coffee in both hands.  She cradled it close to her, breathing in the rich aroma as if she could use it to ward off the rest of her headache.  "That is what, three times that you've won in two days?"  Raizel flashed the other mage a quick smile, raising her eyebrows at him in teasing challenge.  "That's more than in all seven years that we were together at school, I think."

Imperiousness was much harder to swallow than scalding coffee in the morning.  At Raizel's lofty evaluation that he may if he so desired serve her, Adon bit back a sharp reply, instead giving an easy, "No--that's alright.  I think this is more than enough," he said as he poured a large mug of the beverage for himself.  Adon had only to smell the steam rising from the cup to know that it was definitely very good.

The saying as far as Turkish coffee went  was to make it black as hell, sweet as love.  Naturally, for this occasion, Adon had forgone a fair bit of the sugar.  The bite in the morning helped to awake his dull--and painful--senses.  He gave a deep sigh.

"Thank you for the eggs," he managed, setting his cup down on the tray and reaching for a glass of water.  He refrained from giving an evaluation--only appreciation--for what he perceived to be a shriveled mass of yellow and white.  He downed the water, fork now hovering over the... breakfast, he reminded himself. This was breakfast. The god-damn most important meal of the day, and he'd trusted her with--

For all Adon was being the peacable one--as usual, refraining from assessments and insults when possible, Raizel was in an evaluating mood, it seemed.  Even if she couldn't do it quite correctly. "Ha," he gave a single laugh, dulled by his diluted enthusiasm this morning.  Loud sounds, laughter, and talking made his head rumble.  "You and I kept different tallies, it seems."  But yes. Yes, he had won. He didn't need Raizel Cohen to hand him his dignity.  Adon took a bite of the eggs and, upon attempting to swallow, cast a wordless Aguamenti into his water glass to refill it.  Something needed to wash that down.  Three sips of water, two sips of coffee--one of the eggs. Repeat.

"So. My three wishes..." he began, smirking in her direction.  "Want to lay down any ground rules first?"  Of course she would.  But it was best to preempt objection--and no better time to negotiate than when neither one cared.  Apathy had a sort of soothing effect in the morning.

Raizel laughed, though both her volume and enthusiasm were much lower than usual.  Setting her cup of coffee down on the table with painful care, she gave the Auror a warm smile.

"Three wishes?" she asked bemusedly.  "That is very bold, Adon Eleor.  You have used one already, I think."

Cupping her chin in one hand, she regarded him curiously across the table.  Phrased like that, his request was almost a challenge, and any response she gave would be a challenge in itself.  He was giving her the chance to firmly set limits -- but spelling out the rules so that either of them knew them made this entire exchange far less interesting.  Besides, her interest in hearing what he might ask far outweighed any trepidation about what the inquiry might be.

"I hope that you would not request anything so horrible of me that I'd need to lay down rules to prevent it," she said, smiling slightly.  Giving a shrug, she inclined her head to him in acknowledgement.  "Go ahead.  Ask what you will."

"Ha," Adon said dully over is coffee cup before taking a sip.  When he came up for air, he was smirking.  "This is funny.  I had rather thought that was your wish, from the way you were acting last night."  And Adon was a gentleman--he wouldn't turn a lady out when she was clearly so...

'Wasted' was a hard term to use, so he wasn't even going to think it in this instance--because any thoughts like that made Adon flich in anticipation of Raizel's raised voice or pointed elbows. 

Adon frowned as he considered.  The first thing that came to mind was asking a rather large vocational boon. However, since it was no longer yesterday, job-talk was not exactly off-limits.  He'd been thinking about the case at the Tower of London--of the single, straight-line trace of magic he'd seen on the vault holding the Royal Jewels.  He'd had this theories, but they'd need some expertise to back them up. 

"So," he said easily--because he'd need to ease into this one. The question contained a rather unpleasant word in it.  "What allows a," he softened his voice, "goblin..." he paused to assess her reaction, "to access a bank vault? And--these are all, for the record," he clarified in a businesslike tone, "sub-questions under the larger, overarching one.  Is it an unspoken spell? A sort of permission given to only Gringotts goblins? Some sort of ... magical trait possessed in their fingers?  Does it work on just any bank vault, or one outside of Gringotts?"

He leaned back in his seat, taking a bite of the eggs and trying his best to ignore what he thought might have been a slight crunch.  He waved his hand dismissively. "This is all just idle curiosity," he said, taking another bite to clear his plate. "But I wouldn't mind seeing a demonstration, of course, if that would be helpful in answering the question."

The snort that Raizel had given in response to his completely ridiculous hypothesis had been partially lost as she'd begun to eat her eggs.  Adon had, of course, already finished; he'd obviously lost none of his ability to eat his way through the entire Beit Gaddol dining hall in the past ten years, if not improved on it slightly.

Breakfast quickly lost her interest once more, though, as he launched into his series of questions.  Blinking, Raizel glanced across the table at him, her brows knitting as she listened.  Trying to process so many rapid-fire inquiries made her head ache even more.  She should not be required to think this hard so early in the morning. 

"That sounds rather well thought out to be idle curiosity, Auror Eleor," she observed, regarding him with a thoughtful frown.  Pounding head or not, it wasn't hard to tick through the possible reasons in her mind.  If this was some sort of entrapment, Adon Eleor had gone through far too much effort to get to this point, and Raizel doubted that he could ever be that cold-hearted.  His series of questions sounded pedantic, which meant that he was either thinking of breaking into a bank vault himself or was interested because of his work.  That was something she could swallow, even if it meant divulging more information to an Auror than her employers would ever be happy with.  She might loathe the Near East Ministry, but she minded Adon slightly less.

"How they access them depends," she began with a thoughtful frown, lowering her fork, "on the security measures.  Most of the regular vaults just need a key, but they still send a goblin with anyone who wishes to access them."  That was a political commentary that she was too tired to get into.  She lifted her chin to him in faint acknowledgement, looking pained as she lifted her coffee to take another sip.  "There are higher security vaults that do what you're referencing, where they have to touch it with a finger or a hand.  It's sympathetic threshold magic -- like you might find on an old home, but keyed into service to Gringotts rather than a family.  Some are even more specific than that, I think -- linked to certain high-ranked positions in the bank, so only certain goblins can gain access."

She rolled her shoulders in a shrug, looking more thoughtful as she considered the various possibilities.  "If you want to see a demonstration, we could go to Gringotts and open one of our vaults."  Her eyes flickered towards him, and she gave him a faint smile.  "Your family's vault probably has more protection than mine, but if it's not secure enough, we could find another, I think.  It would not be hard to come up with a reason."

That brought them full circle, though.  Raizel set her coffee cup down, her brows knitting as she regarded the man across the table, meeting his gaze. "Why are you asking, Donnie?" she asked with a frown, her eyes searching his.  "If it's more than idle curiosity, I might be able to help more if I know the context."

"It's not my case," Adon said slowly over the rim of his turkish coffee.  "But I was at the crime scene.  I cast a magical trace, and found a vertical line along a Muggle vault--long and low, not in a normal human's reach.  Maybe a small child's."  The pain behind his browbone was making his sentences shorter--his words tighter.  "The artifacts inside the vault were ancient; well before Statue times: the British Crown Jewels." That had gotten a definite reaction from her.  He could see her tense and straighten. Monarchs as late as Elizabeth I took tribute from mages and magical creatures. So. There could have been magical items in the vault--and probably some magical precautions.  He surveyed Raizel's plate before taking his fork and grabbing a bite. He paused, assessing her face. It looked pale, and quite unobservant to the fact that he'd just unburdened her plate significantly. He hadn't even mentioned the body yet--but Raizel's sudden stiffness seemed to be anticipating a blow.

"It's a working hypothesis--" words like 'hunch,' or 'gut feeling' were crude, even with a hangover, "but it struck me as..." again, he watched her face as he pronounced the harsh word, "goblin's work.  Apparently, the work on the body," he added more quietly, to leave no room for doubt, "was also inhumane--if not inhuman." And Adon had seen that sort of brutality and disregard for the human body recently, in the form of missing fingers.  Still; it was only a  hypothesis.

He didn't really feel like drowning anyone in the depths of his eyes or soul, or whatever this morning. Not when that would require sustained eye contact and he was already feeling a dull ache behind his sockets whenever his eyes changed focus, but a strategic glance and silence made clear that Adon was waiting for something.

She hadn't really been expecting a straight answer.  Adon rarely gave information when he didn't have to; he was far more likely to evade or to challenge her in reply than give up anything important, especially because she guessed this was related to his job.  But the words he spoke -- crime scene, magical trace -- made her throat tighten in a way that had nothing to do with overindulgence in alcohol.

This time, the mention of goblins was enough to make her flinch.  Raizel bit her lip as he finished speaking, leaving the gap hanging in the air.  Swallowing hard, she looked down at the table.

"Yeh," she agreed quietly, eyes flickering back toward him.  "That is what the paper said."

The air felt heavy, like it was pressing down on her, and she felt far more nauseous than she had a moment ago.  She'd clenched her hand instinctively; taking a deep breath, Raizel forced herself to spread her fingers, looked down at them.  Adon was still waiting silently.  He clearly knew that she knew something; if she tried to change the subject, he'd probably press, but that didn't mean she had to talk.  She could be just as stubborn as he could when she wanted to be -- but did she really want to be now?

"Magic like that --"  Raizel stopped and bit her lip, glancing at him warily as if she weren't sure whether or not he were going to lash out at her in response.  "I don't know if it the goblin magic could do that," she admitted cautiously after a moment.  "But Runic magic --"  She paused, her eyes flicking back to him again, and then she gave a shrug.  "There were rumors around the office that runes were involved," she said slowly.  "And those could do that."

She was not really bound by the rules of the previous night's game to help him.  Josephine St. Just's words still rang like a gong in her head.  She could stop there and leave it, and maybe the other Cursebreaker's threat wouldn't be proven right -- maybe the Ministry wouldn't find a connection, maybe there would be no reason for her to get dragged into it.  Raizel closed her hand into a fist again, running her thumb over her fingers, and then gave a quiet sigh. 

"Adon," she said hesitantly, feeling her way along each cautious word.  "The man who died -- the Wizengamot member.  He owned something that was goblin-made -- a mask, I think.  They send us out sometimes to collect artifacts that they want," she added carelessly, though her gaze was fixed intently on him.  "They sent another Cursebreaker to convince him to sell them the mask a week ago.   She took me with her to his house."  She swallowed and dropped her gaze, grimaced, and then gave another half-hearted shrug.  "But he wouldn't give it to us.  As far as I know, they never got it."

Magic like that wasn't goblinic.  Adon could get behind that; but he wet his lips and leaned forward, his voice low, "Then why were you discussing it at work?"

He ran his hands over his face at the mention of the timing, giving a dull sound that was half-grunt, half-groan.  "O-k," he said from behind his hand.  "So..." he let his hand drop.  "What day was this visit?"

He waved his hand. He suspected the answer, and didn't really want to go down that line of questioning yet.  Tacking back.  "Why were they talking about the crime scene--and runes--at work? This is not," he said tightly, "typical office conversation."  Except, maybe in his office. But even then, most aurors tried to keep conversations on a need-to-know basis.  There very few who shared information to those outside of their case.  With a few exceptions.

Then again, goblins probably did not make for typical conversation.  However, it was highly probable that the reason why goblins were talking about Runic murders at work had something to do with mask-gathering.  At least, in this one instance.  Gringotts was taking a definite interest in the man's fate.  Which meant they were nervous--if goblins were capable of that range of emotion.

Raizel knew the signs.  The hunched posture.  The annoyed groan.  Saying anything to him had been a risk.  She still didn't know what the Near East Auror office had said to her one-time school friend, but Adon was thorough; he wouldn't have missed it.  Judging by his response, she could guess what he thought.

"What day was this visit?"

"Last Friday," Raizel said tersely.  She sat more stiffly, crossing her arms against her chest in an automatic defensive gesture.  "While you were gone."

The accusatory tone wasn't helping.  Raizel set her jaw, trying to ignore the aching knot that was threatening to form in her stomach, and met his gaze squarely.  "And what do you know about conversation in our office?" she demanded defensively.  "No one was talking about it!  The other Cursebreaker --" 

She broke off as the words faltered.  Clenching her teeth, she lowered her voice and looked at him hard.  "She came into my office and shoved the article at me," she informed him in a tight voice, each sound clipped, as she squeezed her right hand hard into a fist.  "She wanted to know what I knew about it, which was nothing, and then she ordered me not to talk to your Ministry or your Aurors.  So don't go acting like I'm at fault over this," she added fiercely, lifting her chin as if daring him to counter.  "I'm trying to help, Adon.  I didn't have to say anything to you about it!"