cyrus & kingsley || illicit trades
He felt no shred of regret as he moved with perpetuated ease over rough, cobbled streets through the most sinister district in the Wizarding World. It was often that the Auror found himself here, dark eyes shielded by dark sunglasses as light barely seeped through tight buildings. It was, in part, a vague curiosity that dragged him here. This time, a tip off regarding his most recent sting with illegal, hallucinogenic potions was what urged cautious feet to seek clues. There was a supposed trade occurring on these very streets as cloaked hags traded substance for gold, and he yearned to find answers. It was a puzzle, and Kingsley never left puzzles incomplete.
Black, shiny shoes stopped in front of Borgin and Burkes; the timeless shop that sold the occasional illicit dark-magical items. Where better to find illegal substance than a shop that had been known a time or two for scraping by with barely-legal paperwork that allowed sales of hardly-kosher knick-knacks and mementos? Perhaps he could seek answers from the owner who must have seen something in his time here. Uneven, waxy windows allowed a clear view of dark streets and a bored employee might find themselves staring at passerby.
Or, perhaps, participating in illegal activity themselves.
A bell jingled when he opened the door and from behind a dark curtain appeared a young, rather flamboyantly dressed Asian man. It was a strange comparison from the heavily cloaked culprits that so typically perused the district to see someone with such a different sense of fashion. Kingsley rested his sunglasses against his forehead but kept his expression flat.
“Hello,” he greeted calmly. “How is it going?” Kingsley stepped towards the cash register, the ancient floor creaking beneath his weight.
“May I ask you a few--- questions?”
