#lawrence 001

[babylabelle]

closed starter for lawrence savea ( @lawrencesavea ) -> baby's guesthouse, late

"Can't believe you showed up too late to enter that costume contest, dude. Pre-gaming cost you literal hundreds yesterday." While his bedazzled pockets were packed tightly with the tips of the night, there was a downside to Baby working the biggest bash of the fall: no time for hanging out with Lawrence. Which is fine! They see each other more often than they don't so he was only a little blue about not getting to hit the dance floor with Lawnny Kravitz, and only a little annoyed about having to work another shift today, too.

At least they're hanging out now, even if it's beyond normal waking hours. Lawrence is always a good sport about Baby's late shifts.

He lays back in the outdoor lounger, the not-too-distant waves crashing against the beach and scoring the late late night/early early morning.

"You also missed some jackass in a cowboy hat telling me to go buss tables. And Elliot slobbering all over some MILF dressed like a ringmaster. And uh," Baby keeps his attention at the stars as he prepares to vastly undersell his experience. "Some guy asking me on a date. Like a for real for real date, not the usual bar flirt stuff."

[ehhdgarbones]

Missing Pieces | E&L

@wandlawre

An exciting night chasing Death Eater’s through shadowed side streets became a morning of questions he still hadn’t found answers to. There’d been reports about Death Eaters making some noise near muggle homesteads. Not the full scale horrors they inflicted on those deemed inferior, but the quiet tormenting meant to test the waters. For what? He didn’t rightly know. 

Edgar suspected that the Death Eaters wanted to know the Order’s response time, or how many members were dispatched for any given assault. He’d been in the area on patrol. When muffled screams and sparks of green light poured out of an alleyway’s pitch darkness, he knew the Death Eaters were at it again. 

The duel had been a quick one once the darkly robed figures realized they were outmatched. Edgar had taken them both on, two to one, and not a minute in they’d decided their victim wasn’t worth the one way ticket to Azkaban. One shouted Expelliarmus charm had wood clattering far from it’s owner’s grasp. A Death Eater grabbed the collar of the other’s cloak and they both disapparated before Edgar could stun them stupid. When the dust settled all that had been left behind were two halves of a broken wand.

His first stop that morning had been Ollivander’s. The wand maker had supplied nearly all of Great Britain and Ireland with their wands, and could remember each pairing he’d ever made. It’d been to Edgar’s surprise when the older warlock revealed that the wand wasn’t of his making. He didn’t know who’s it was, or who it belonged to, but had given a very short list of names of other possible wand makers. Only one of those listed names had jumped off of the page to him, which was why he was knocking on the door currently standing between him and his best hope for answers. 

He and Lawrence had a short history of long conversations about wands, magical theories, and all manner of intellectual debate. He knew the man to be a smug bugger but, under all the glibness, was a curious mind and a wary heart. Edgar hoped he’d have answers, or would at least be able to point him in the right direction. Going to Moody with nothing more than two halves of a broken wand felt too much like a failure.

With a deliberate sigh, Edgar knocked again on Lawrence’s door.