10th January, 1895 — Auror Offices

Something was wrong with him, Nick suspected – he was under some kind of curse. Sometimes he was fine, normal, but other times: his brain or his mouth would not let him say what he wanted to. He was already sick of his own sincerity.

The Auror offices had needed a translator to interrogate a suspect or a witness in Urdu, so had sent for him. Nick had waltzed up and had presently been left to loiter in the Auror offices, waiting for the interrogator to brief him and take him in to translate.

He glanced up when someone entered, not-quite aware that the random chair he had taken had set him in their way. Instead, he’d recognised the Auror as Miss Sandow, and tried (tried being the operative word) for a small, mocking smirk in hello. It didn’t work – all he had done was smile at her, in a friendly way – and his I hope it wasn’t you who called me up here came out instead as a so-expressly-cordial-it-was-almost-earnest, “Auror Sandow! Lovely to see you. You look well.”

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Ivy Sandow/Cassius Lestrange

  

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Ivy needed an Urdu translator for one of her cases, and had spent the last twenty-five minutes trying to wish the translator into being anyone but Blott. Even though she hadn't hated getting stuck with him in the blizzard as much as she'd expected, those had been dire circumstances — she was sure that anyone else would be less annoying.

But instead it was Blott, and he was — smiling at her. Ivy raised an eyebrow at him. He was being friendly. He was never friendly. Was he on drugs?

"Mr. Blott," she said, tone flat, "I suppose you're here for my witness?"

  

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set by MJ

She was being normal, thank Merlin – apparently the infection had not rubbed off on anyone else. Much as I’d like to stay for tea and chat, Nick willed himself to say, coating his tongue in sarcasm. It did not happen. “Yes,” he said instead, amiably. “I’m ever so glad you called for me – I hope I can be of some help.”

He was trying very hard to narrow his eyes at her. Unfortunately, his eyelids refused him even this: instead he kept merely gazing at her, guileless and admiring.

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Ivy stared at him, unblinking. She'd experienced some weird things in her life — blood rain, whatever was going on with her sleep or lack thereof — and this was still pretty odd. "Are you well, Mr. Blott?" Ivy asked, tone careful, as if he were slow.

  

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set by MJ

Obviously not, Nick would have said, not not not, but – “Of course!” he said, merrily. “Better than well. How could I not be, getting to see my favourite Auror?”

He felt himself beaming, horribly bright, at her.

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He was beaming at her like an idiot, and all Ivy could do was blink at him. "You're — sure you're well?" she asked again, "You don't seem like yourself." She really was starting to think that the drug thing was real.

  

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set by MJ

She knew him well, then – she didn’t seem to believe this could possibly be in character.

He would be offended, if it wasn’t clearly true. Unfortunately, Nick didn’t know how to agree with her, when he had no control of his tongue. Or... maybe, just maybe... “You’re so perceptive, Miss Sandow,” he said without the barest shred of sarcasm; and if he was internally annoyed at having to flatter her at all, he had to hope it might give her another clue that he wasn’t himself.

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She blinked again. A compliment, and one that implied that she was right. Ivy stood up from her desk. "Let's go see my witness," she said, because she was not going to cancel the interview just because something odd was going on with Blott. "And we can talk after."

She was not particularly sure why she was interested in making sure that Blott was fine. Maybe it was just that she found his sudden pleasantness off-putting.

  

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set by MJ

When she stood abruptly, Nick was almost certain she was just going to up and leave, unable to bear this conversation. (He would not have blamed her.)

But – she wanted to conduct the interview as planned, and talk after. Oh, Merlin – he’d forgotten he would have to translate. What if he couldn’t get the right meaning across? This was going to be a fucking disaster.

Nick wanted to shake his head, say are you sure, but all he could manage was a doubtful look that he privately hoped wouldn’t merely come across as modesty. “I’ll, er, do my best.”

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Oh, good, he would do his best. Ivy wrinkled her nose at him, which was of course her usual reaction to him, but — hm.

"I expect this witness to be hostile," she said, because she always expected the witness to be hostile, frankly. "Is that a problem for you?"

  

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set by MJ

“Not at all,” Nick said sunnily, setting off towards the interrogation rooms with purpose without a trace of irony. It was going to go terribly (how was any hostility going to come out of his mouth like this?) – but then perhaps he didn’t actually care if he ruined Auror Sandow’s chances at information here, if only he could make her see that he would never say these things, obviously. “We’ll be brilliant. And how could anyone not be charmed by you?”

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Yeah, she was cooked.

Ivy grabbed Blott's elbow, and hauled him into the nearest, empty interrogation room instead of the one she had originally intended. "Should I be taking you to a hospital?" she asked, frowning, as she pushed the door shut behind her. "How long have you been nice?"

She said nice as if it were a curse word.

  

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set by MJ

Oh, she wasn’t entirely stupid after all: she had caught on before he tanked her interview. Nick was almost disappointed – and he winced at the force of her grasp on his elbow, at any rate.

And what exactly was she going to say to the hospital on his behalf? He’s being nice, as if it were a terminal disease? Nick would have laughed mockingly, but of course he couldn’t, because he was... cursed, or something.

He cleared his throat of any traces of attempted sarcasm so that he could answer her plainly for once. “It’s new. As of this year.” He had been having trouble criticising anyone at the winter fair on New Year’s, and he had asked to be more likeable. Hopefully she might know what he was talking about, and not think he had lost his mind as well as his tongue. “I – ate a sweet?”

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