“I don’t know anything more than you do,” Ziya insisted, again. It wasn’t the complete truth, he’d been debriefed twice since the news broke about the Minister’s passing, unfortunate as it ought to be, but he was just trying to enjoy a pint in peace. He didn’t mind gossip, it had it’s uses, but he wasn’t in the mood to feed into the squawking and squabbling going on. The pub was filled with the familiar din of conversation, but nearly half of it spoke of the Minister, the snake in the sky, and whispers of what could have happened. Ziya had his own questions, but he wasn’t going to find the answers there.
“That’s not quite true, is it?” He quipped, eyes taking on a hue of mischief. “Bet ya a galleon in about ninety seconds that door there’ll burst open and a woman in red will come storming in, yelling about her missing husband.” He grinned, leaning in conspiratorially, “he’ll duck out the back before she notices him, and if we were to go back with him, he’d say,” he paused, changing his voice to mimic the wizard. “she’ll run me pockets dry, the old bat, always howlin’ about how expensive Diagon’s got, how I haven’t ever given her enough to purchase quality items, and how ever is she to silence my mother if she doesn’t have another handful of galleons?” He repeated, before lifting his pint to his lips. “You’d think she’d have caught him at least once by now.” He shrugged, eyeing the door he’d spoke of.