location : late at night at a saloon.
with : lucius malfoy.
♟ : @vainglcry .
he will never get used to the incessant burning of the mark on his forearm every time they're recruited out of some necessity. those are usually meetings of utmost importance, but when regulus wasn't called for the massacre that happened a couple of days ago, he thanked the creator for not having to stain his hands in such an unworthy and barbaric act. watching his cousins celebrate the event leaves a strange bitter taste in his mouth.
however, it's not the dark lord who calls him that day. it's lucius malfoy through his fireplace, chiseled features and the typical elegant drawl of his words. that's why he's out there in that saloon of magical high society, expensive suit attached to his slim build while walking with the bearing of an heir that was beaten and clawed into him. his curls frame his face, which tilts in a typical gesture of him like a small feline before taking a seat next to the malfoy heir. he's able to see that it didn't take him long to order a glass of whiskey.
“ if this is about me not going , I wasn't summoned , ” his words leave a lot up to interpretation, but of course his fellow comrade would know what he refers to. his cloak swings to one side, lithe wrists unbuttoning it as he relaxes into the table. his ample collection of inherited rings make a sound when he rests his hands on it, and his characteristic silver eyes descend upon lucius' features.