The sigh of disappointment that left Regulus’s lips was audible, although quiet. He accepted his defeat with a small roll to his eyes, hidden behind half-closed lids. “No… Thank you, that won’t be necessary. But, uhh – Would you mind letting him know that Mister Black, from the Department of Magical Law, stopped by?”
It took all the strength of his will not to wrinkle his nose at the distaste of using such formalities. His free hand reached idly up and scratched at the back of his head, chin tilted down as he avoided Benjy’s stare. Many a time had Regulus requested to tone down the stilted politesse in their interactions to Evan, who still addressed his owls to Mister Black and used his most proper register even when they lay tangled in the sheets. How unnatural it felt to be using it now; how very much like home.
He padded over to the desk, running a finger over the notches in the wicker on the picnic basket lid, and then murmured a charm that encased the whole thing in a light frost. Better not let it get cold, Regulus thought, now realizing he would not be able to take the basket with him as he went. The charm seemed to match the air of the room quite appropriately. Although their eyes did not meet, Regulus was acutely aware of the other man’s presence, the stiffness to his features that seemed to beg him to leave. And perhaps he should have, for that would have been the polite thing to do. But curiosity, not fear or etiquette, ruled his mind today. This was his first foray into the private world of Evan’s work life, and he was going to grasp onto it as long as he could.
(Besides, the encounter was proving to be excellent practice for not dashing off in fright every time he entered a strange office at the Ministry.)
“I know it’s none of my business,” he started up again after a period of silence, “but you seem a little troubled? Mister… Sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”
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