groovy, babe

Eighteen. Half-Scot. Gryffindor. WWN jockey. You can call me Marlene.

[marlenemick]

sturgispodmore:

“Amateur sleuthing. I need a partner.”

Eyebrows instinctively cocked, Marlene took a seat on the edge of the sofa.

“I’m listening.”

[marlenemick]

sturgispodmore:

I don’t want to shag you, Marlene. 

— Sturgis

“You probably already know this, but I’m offended.”

“What do you want?”

[marlenemick]

sturgispodmore:

Come over later. Sometime after 7. 

— Sturgis

Is this a booty call? I’m not coming all the way over for a booty call. I shouldn’t even be sending Brian this far to confirm that it’s not. Give him a treat, please.

--- Marlene

[marlenemick]

fletcher-mundungus:

“One: no one makes Marlene McKinnon a sidekick. Two: I see how it is. I give ya this wonderful idea and ya’re gonna go at it all your own. Pfft! And three—,” Mundungus was ready to object to be called a ‘minion’. 15 across; six letters; a low-ranking worker who follows blindly their superior. “Shite. I’m nobody minion.” Except Albus Dumbledore’s. “I’m a mastermind all of me own.”

"I’m not doing it all on my own!” Marlene insisted. “I’m not doing it at all, probably. Malcolm Jordan is real.” Maybe. “And if I said otherwise, everyone at work would think I’m a complete nutter. They’d lock me up in St. Mungo’s for the rest of my life. I’m not risking that. You can have it.”

[marlenemick]

fletcher-mundungus:

“I can always hope for some kind of blessing from Morgana, or some shite, innit?” Mundungus shook his head. “At least consider firecall me up if ya need a sidekick, or something.”

“Sidekick?” Marlene cocked her head to the side and shook her head. “I won’t need a sidekick for this. Besides, I’m already his sidekick,” she said, referencing Malcolm again. “Now you’re just tiptoeing on minion territory.”

[marlenemick]

fletcher-mundungus:

“Of course ya can. Ya just have to keep your eyes and ears open. Investigate, too, if ya have a mind to it,” Mundungus said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world to think that your co-worker doesn’t actually exist. “But be careful about it.”

“You don’t know me very well after all, do you?”

[marlenemick]

fletcher-mundungus:

Mundungus shrugged, looking a little apologetic. “Eh, that’s because the non-fun kind of trippin’ ya out is free,” he joked. “Look—in the end, there is no proof to my theory.. and the simpler solution is that Malcolm Jordan is Malcolm Jordan. What can ya do about it? Focus on that.”

“Well now, I don’t know if I can.”

[marlenemick]

fletcher-mundungus:

“I just think all of that secrecy or whatever is fishy, and that’s a solid possibility,” Mundungus said, trying to rephrase Marlene’s words in a way that made him sound less bonkers. “I don’t know who, exactly. Could be anyone, or no one, really.” He shrugged. “Have ya ever seen Malcolm yourself? Like, ever, since coming back?”

Marlene thought long and hard about it. Any time she’d seen Malcolm, he’d been surrounded by a group---his entourage. How was she to know that was actually him? What if she’d assumed incorrectly?

“You’re tripping me out, Dung. And not the fun kind, either.”

[marlenemick]

fletcher-mundungus:

“Wow, locked up,” Mundungus whistled. “What, do they fear someone is gonna get his robes in a twist? Or, maybe, there is no Malcolm Jordan… if no one sees him, how can we really be sure he even exists?” Despite the claim he was making, Mundungus was serious and more importantly neither drunk nor high. 

He laughed. “Oh, luv, I don’t think ya can come work at the Undertaker. Ya know.. E.L.M. and Wizards Undertakers and Embalmers, down in Knockturn Alley. Not a.. lively.. place, if ya get what I mean. I’m sure even imaginary, uptight Malcolm Jordan gotta be better than that.”

“That’s not the worst conspiracy theory I’ve ever heard,” Marlene said slowly, the undertaker already forgotten. “But then where do they get his voice from?”

[marlenemick]

fletcher-mundungus:

“Ya can quote me any time, luv,” Mundungus replied, looking up to Marlene, smiling. “Not so sure about your bloke, Malcolm. He sounds like the uptight type. Do they have ya going around to do his job?”

“Yes.” She huffed. “No.” But both were true. Marlene hadn’t been assigned to assist Malcolm Jordan since the Ministry protests, but she was still put off by it. What was worse was that she could sense it coming again, what with the qudditch season winding to a close soon. “I don’t know. I don’t actually get to touch base with him, like, ever. They keep him locked up.” But the version of him in my head is.

“Any openings at your place? Where do you work again?”

[marlenemick]

fletcher-mundungus:

“Business as usual, the Ministry sings,” Mundungus sang, not badly, while playing, badly, an untuned guitar. “Why, don’t you feel it, pulling your strings. Do-doo-dee-da-doo…”

“Can I quote you on that?”

“Can Malcolm Jordan quote you on that, I mean.”

[marlenemick]

sturgispodmore:

“Alright.”

“Don’t get beat up.”

[marlenemick]

drcsmdws:

“That’s a good point,” Dorcas couldn’t help but laugh, remembering how Marlene had, in fact, wanted to smash into players during Gobstones and how amusing she found it at the time. Still did. “Listen, McKinnon, I know there’s a catch with all this roller derby malarkey, so, what is it? Hm?”

“Oh, that is the catch,” Marlene explained. “I didn’t think you’d want to get bumped into by people on roller skates for fun. And you’ll probably have to design the t-shirts, but---”

[marlenemick]

sturgispodmore:

“Be careful, Marlene. Someone might think you dislike the golden boy of the wireless,” Sturgis replied, his words dripping with sarcasm. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. And I have to get back to work.”

[marlenemick]

sturgispodmore:

“I’ll have Cornelia bring you a pillow if you ask nicely, though.”

“Why do you assume I’m staying? That’s more up Malcolm Jordan’s alley, I think,” she added, bitterness seeping into her tone.

[marlenemick]

scotchmckinnon:

“I dunno. Mostly because I dunno what you’re crying over.”

Marlene’s head shot up, her expression just short of a glare as she looked at Doug. She wasn’t upset with him for not understanding; he couldn’t help it. She was only irritated with herself for crying in front of him. This was the McKinnon way, after all. McKinnons didn’t express emotions, much less talk about them. It was an unspoken rule, one that Marlene had never really considered, that even now, she had never put into words.

The one thing she did know was that she was embarrassed.

“Nothing.” Marlene wiped her eyes on the back of her hand, the unshed tears that had gratuitously gathered swelling in a full stop behind them. “Forget it.”

“I really don’t want to live with Da anymore.”

[marlenemick]

sturgispodmore:

“The worst part about that all is I’m fairly certain that I could actually fit into your trousers.”

“Com’on, let’s head in. If it’s a costume party, you can have my jumper.”

“And all this time you had us thinking you were bigger than that.”

~fin~