Rabastan was bored, terribly so, and that just wouldnât do. He was sat in one of the booths in the pub, fiddling with his glass of red wine and trying to think up something to do that could catch and hold his attention. He was in an awkward mood where he wanted to do something but all the things he could think of to do took far more effort than he was willing to give right now. Perhaps more wine would help.
Noticing a presence approaching him, he turned to the side, leaning against the backrest of the booth, wine in hand, and watched them approach. Maybe this would entertain him. âIâm afraid I canât let you pass unless you pay the toll,â Rabastan said. It didnât matter whether they had actually intended to talk to him, they were going to now.Â
Andromeda had been attempting to make the most of her free time knowing that she couldnât guarantee when it would next happen. Sheâd just wanted a quiet glass of wine and some time to herself, what she hadnât expected was to instead be stopped by another old Slytherin Alumni. âTwo questions, what exactly is the toll, and what are you really expecting to achieve because I have no intention of paying.â