It’s worth noting that not many things in life shock her anymore. Violence and debauchery are now so deeply embedded into every facet of Bellatrix Prewett’s existence that she doubts she’ll ever come across any sight worth batting an eye over, not even in her line of business.
Finding Rabastan fuckin’ Lestrange at a crowded McDonald’s was a whole other story. It’s something that bypasses jadedness altogether and jumps straight into a sort of grim acceptance she’s finally come to terms with. When she realizes his is the only table with a free seat in the entire restaurant, she’s not surprised. The universe, it seems, is hell bent on throwing her together with the same man who’d very nearly cost her both her personal freedom and a £300,000 paycheck. If not McDonald’s today, she’s sure she would have run into him outside a gas station tomorrow, or in line to buy movie tickets the week after that, such was their luck.
But let it never be said that Bellatrix doesn’t stop every now and again to humor fate.
“Don’t mind if I do,” she replies, dropping down into the seat in front of him along with her own tray of food. Then with all the bravado of someone who’s far more comfortable with the situation than she should be, Bellatrix reaches out a hand clad in fingerless leather gloves and snatches away Rabastan’s fry, smearing it against the trail of ice cream. She plucks it in her mouth and chews slowly. “Huh,” she speaks up after a moment’s pause. “That’s not half bad, actually.”
Rabastan sort of just... stops, frozen for an instance in time when he hears that all too familiar voice pierce through the every-day monotony with all the elegance and lilt of a screeching banshee.
*A lovely one.
"Bells.” His gaze zooms beyond his fry to stare, googly eyed, at the woman making to sit down across from him. If Rabastan were any less surprised, there might have been less surprise in his voice. But there is mostly only surprise in his voice.
Whenever this happens (given that he’s not the one to spot her first), Rabastan always has to take a moment to stop and appreciate the beauty of the universe. Or rather to take in the absolute sight Bella is, her hair windswept, her smile breathtaking and her eyes glittering (with m a l i c e).
He watches, confused when she plucks his fry from his nerveless fingertips. Even more confused (apprehensive now, not that he knows it) when she swipes a line across his melted ice-cream. And then the innocent man is forcibly thrown from his bewilderment when she brings it to her mouth and e a t s i t.
Rabastan’s mouth opens. It’s already open, actually. He closes it instead. He opens it again.
“B e l l s.” A wide smile splits his face, an expression that fits him to a T, and yet might be truly terrifying all the same (to anyone other than Bellatrix probably), “It’s good to see you.”
His gaze does not flicker once to the drink sitting innocuously on her tray. Not once.
