bleeding knight ;;

aradoc Dearborn you wear your suffering upon your sleeve, tin man ;; | Auror | Ex-Ravenclaw | | Thirty | Order Member |

[caradocsdearborn]

o-mnisciens said: A b-bit— whiny, aren’t we?

A twelve hour shift will usually do that to a person, yeah. How 'sit, Sybill. You headin' the same way?

[caradocsdearborn]

           I've had enough work for a lifetime. I'll be at the bloody Leaky Cauldron if you need me.

[caradocsdearborn]

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[caradocsdearborn]

Sean Dearborn - Jeffery Dean Morgan

Rachel Dearborn (nee) Collins - Samantha Smith

Caradoc Dearborn - Jensen Ackles

Rhiannon Dearborn (nee) Fischer - Rebecca Ferguson

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[caradocsdearborn]

alastor--moody:

To answer Caradocs question, he didn’t say anything and instead, he walked straight into his office. He flipped through the file, skimming through it as he waited. Once the other male crossed the threshold, he closed the door with a flick of his wrist. Read. It’ll explain everything. It was a hunt. Two wizards, supposed allies with Voldemort. No one was sure but they seemed like a shady crowd. Not that it mattered because they were going to take them in for questioning anyway. 

-trying not to make his sigh too audible, Caradoc reached for the file with a nod, absently flipping through its pages as he moved to sit in the seat on the other side of Moody's desk. There was the usual impatient silence as Moody waited for Caradoc to finish speed reading. It was straight-forward, anyways. Two on two, most likely. Moody'd never liked the big operations. Scumbags, more than likely with Intel  on the greater goal. And there was no question of them leaving soon, perhaps within the next few minutes since Moody was clearly halfway out the door already, his mindset easily turned onto the job, just like usual- Well then, looks like a straight off. In and out. And we know where they're at, sir?

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And I have become comfortably numb

[caradocsdearborn]

alastor--moody:

When he heard Caradoc’s voice, Moody swung towards the direction of it, pointing at him. Good, you, follow me. My office, now. Without even checking to see if Caradoc was following him, Moody turned on his heel, dismissing the mess of papers on the floor. He’d make the other Auror clean them up later when they were finished dealing with their own happenings that were about to take place. C’mon boy, we don’t got all day! Moody shouted over his shoulder, not needing to look over it because of the ability of the eye. Oh how he loved that eye in cases like this.

-Boy. Still. Merlin, he was nearly thirty. But rather than say a word, Caradoc stands and follows behind the senior Auror. Eyes glancing around to check the damage, it was fairly easy to check the man's rage scale by the level of fear in the newer occupants of the Auror department eye's. Not too bad,... but Caradoc steeled himself for the coming barrage of Moody's verbal abuse anyway. He was a damn good Auror, brilliant mentor, dare Caradoc say friend? but Moody was a tough old boot that felt the best way to toughen up his students was to build them a skin nearly as impenetrable as his own.- Dare I ask what this about, Moody? or are we waiting to get inside your office for that conversation?

[caradocsdearborn]

delphinesavage:

A slight quirk of her lips is Delphine’s first reaction to Caradoc’s slightly condescending tone. She finds it funny - amusing, really, - that he’s so quick to judge at first glance. The coffee she spies in his hand would have made her nose wrinkle if she were one to react more to anything at hand. 

The question was more for myself than anything. Her tongue feels slippery pronouncing the English; even though she’s spent more than fifteen years in UK, French is still her most comfortable language. The answer is not enough of a barbed remark to make him angry - just enough to slightly chide him for rebuking her attempt at starting a conversation. 

Delphine’s thin hands part the folder open and splay the papers out onto the breakroom desk. She’s always been a visual person - perhaps looking at it another way will open up something new in the investigations. There, she says, pointing to a group of ‘mystery’ numbers on the bottom of a page on the far right. They’re too short to be muggle phone numbers, she muses, a finger trailing down the parchment. Coordinates? Zip codes? Security numbers? 

Someone should contact the Muggle Prime Minister. 

-his mouth purses at her response, an irritated flash of annoyance disappearing faster than it'd appeared. with the mug perched at his lips, a soft sigh blows ripples through the dark liquid. But with her already spreading the papers out on a table that he would like to note is very much in the breakroom, his sharp eye follows her movements anyway. Rather than taking another deep sip, he pauses in mid-motion. Skeptical and tired as he is, he's still been doing the job for a damn long time and the act of work is near second nature, an automatic response to his immediate surroundings. Especially if the work grows legs and sits itself right under his damn nose, he can't really help but to respond, consciously or no.  Face not betraying anything, he leans backwards, the only giveaway of his curiosity is the soft thump of the mug being set down on the table before his arms cross his chest. Suddenly a deep laugh spills out of his chest, his head falling back. It's airy but brief, certainly forced, it doesn't reach the pit of his gut let alone his eyes. And once his breathing becomes normal, he speaks to the ceiling in a dispassionate voice- ... You'd have to run a request like that through the Minister himself.  Paperwork, a Hell of a lot of running back and forth, tripping over yourself and getting pushed through a thousand departments and a busy man's schedule.... That's bureaucracy for you. -finally he lowers his head, eyes following the line of her finger to a list of seemingly random numbers-  That is, unless you think we've got an emergency on our hands. -he nods to her hand, sitting up and resting his elbows on the edge on the tabletop, eyes narrowing as though to try and read and make sense of what she's picked up on- Explain. And maybe we'll get somewhere.

[caradocsdearborn]

alastor--moody:

DEARBORN! Moody shouted as he walked down the hallways at a swift pace. Many people just ignored him, others looked at him but then looked away. When Moody was on a mission, you didn’t bother him. People learned that right away and right now, Moody was on a mission to find Caradoc wherever the bloody hell that bastard had disappeared to. Where are you? He shouted again, sending a few interns into a panic as he all but opened their door before closing it, giving a swift apology before going on his hunt for the man again. No man, Death Eater, law breaker, or Auror was going to slip through his fingers.

-anyone would be lying to say the sound of "Mad-Eye" Moody storming towards you didn't make them jump, even a little bit. It was therefore very convenient that Caradoc was a good liar. The trick was to show no fear, even while quickly pulling his feet off the top of his desk, letting papers, various wanted posters and the duller bits of paperwork (that no one had been kind enough to warn him came along with law enforcement), fly in every direction on the way down- Dammit. -he snarled, not bothering to pick up the sheets lest Moody storm in and find him on his knees, arse exposed and therefore get what might be the millionth "constant vigiliance" speech he'd heard in ten years- HERE. Shit,  what is he-- ? MOODY! Merlin, it's not like my desk moves around! I'm in here! What is it?

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[caradocsdearborn]

delphinesavage:

Delphine’s brow furrows at the recently inked statistics (written up by none other than Amelia Bones the intern). The amount of attacks around Scotland are too drastic to ignore. She folds the papers neatly, bringing them into the breakroom and laying them on the table in the middle. 

Something’s up. She doesn’t elaborate; what else is there to say?

-taking a deliberately long sip from his coffee mug, Sharp, black coffee, diluted ever so slightly with a smooth Irish cream burns his lips and Caradoc barely looks up from his day old edition of the Daily Prophet at the paper she's shoved under his nose. He's already bloody read the thing, why else does she thinks he's in here on an early break? And just maybe adding something he shouldn't to his drink while on duty. Bloody young bloods, green around the ears and too eager for their own good (nevermind her calm demeanor and general professionalism, not to mention his measly four year seniority). His tone is firm, although he makes an effort to not sound like a complete arse, perhaps knowing deep down that his dismissal is unjust-

Astute, Savage. But I'm on break and this mug is still scalding. Come back when you've got something substantial.

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[caradocsdearborn]

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