Walden stared through the slits in his mask at Zephyr Bell and resisted the urge to start swearing.
Ever since running into Remus while Fabian-hunting Walden had known that seeing Zephyr while out on official DE business would happen eventually. If he was honest with himself he’d dreaded the encounter ever since he’d failed to pass whatever invisible test Zephyr had set. Walden had thought of a thousand ways to get around hurting wife’s incredibly annoying best friend but none of them had ever started with a chance encounter. His imagination had relied on a heat of the moment battle or a dark alleyway. Not the middle of a market with witnesses around them and Malcolm and Miriam nearby.
This would get tricky. Zephyr knew his voice. He couldn’t even speak Spanish, because Zephyr undoubtably knew he spoke Spanish. Nosy bastard. He’d have to hex himself or go nonverbal.
Even trickier, he couldn’t let Malcolm handle Zephyr. If Zephyr got hurt by a Death Eater and Walden could’ve stopped it then he’d have hell to pay with Daisy. This infuriating man wasn’t worth losing Daisy over.
Thinking as fast as he could Walden Charmed his mask to his face so it wouldn’t falter and pulled on his gloves. Between that and the cape he shouldn’t look much like himself (hopefully). Grimacing he held the tip of his wand to his throat and muttered a hex that would pitch his voice lower and mangle his accent. He hated having to do this. It felt too much like lying.
He’d have to keep his wits about him in this fight or he’d actually do damage. Stupid Zephyr and his stupid morals and his stupid best friend status. Why couldn’t he have just made this easy and stayed stateside? Save Walden the trouble.
“Fuck off,” he growled, hating the sound of his mangled voice as he strode towards Zephyr. Maybe he should’ve found a way to make himself look taller, too. “Can’t you see we’re busy here?”
