Drilling For a Rainbow [Lucky, Babs]

[Lord Voldemort]

*~8pm, Tuesday, June 25th~*

Voldemort had long regarded all things that he owned as reflections of himself, and his house elves were no exception. Each was dressed in what could be best described as liveried tea cosies, and they served exceptionally well, whether it was in the kitchen, guest hall, or stable. Tonight, he had given directions for a finer supper than he could usually be bothered to eat, subsisting largely on roast beef sandwiches and orange juice, as he did. But, ones guests must be kept in awe, so pheasant it would be.

He dressed himself regally, as he did for these public occasions, in a deep green robe with silver serpent trim. As always, the sleeves were held by three buttons at the cuffs. There was no sense in wearing cuffs that required prolonged attention -- they diverted the attention from more important things.

Still pondering some notes Rodolphus had sent him on the tactics involved in the Wizarding War, and Grindelwald's mistakes, therein, he retired to the study, sinking into a remarkably cosy purple velvet chair, with a glass of brandy. He'd always liked these chairs, he reflected, they were so very comfortable, and purple was a colour meant for kings. And king, he would be.

[Lucius Malfoy]

Lucky arrived at Lord Voldemort's residence, not a hair out of place. He was wearing a set of pewter toned formal robes with deep green trim. His long blond hair was tied back in an immaculate queue with a green velvet ribbon in exactly the shade of the trim on his robes. When one of the house elves answered the door he followed it to the room in which his master waited.

"My Lord," he said, respectfully inclining his head and waiting for acknowledgement.

[Lord Voldemort]

"Ah, Lucius! So good of you to come!" Voldemort rose from his chair and held out his left hand, which bore his father's ring. "Do you know if Rabastan will be joining us, this evening? I had honestly expected him before you."

[Lucius Malfoy]

Lucky bowed his head and kissed the proffered ring. "I have no reason to believe that he should not be arriving shortly, My Lord," he said as he returned to a more upright position. "It was good of you to invite us both," he said with a smile.

[Rabastan Lestrange]

Rabastan strode in on the heels of another house elf, hood still up, as usual. "Good evening, my Lord." He bowed low and gracefully, a skill learned in his Auntie's chambers, the hood settling onto his shoulders as he straightened back up. "I hope I'm not too late. After all, it seems Lucius has gotten in before me, he has."

He, too, kissed the ring, before offering a handshake to Lucius.

[Lord Voldemort]

"Excellent to see you both, gentlemen!" Voldemort stepped forth, leading his guests toward the dining room. "I am most eager to hear your thoughts with regard to our ... disposal of Mr. Bishop."

"Gawain! Owain! Our guests have arrived!" He never ordered the house elves to serve -- merely indicated the appropriate time to do so. Almost soundlessly, the cloth at the centre of the table unfolded itself into a lush green and violet runner, spawning place settings and serving platters as it went.

[Lucius Malfoy]

"It's good to see you, Rabastan," he said, shaking the other man's hand before following Lord Voldemort. When they reached the dining room, he spoke while still standing and waiting for his place to be indicated. "I'm sure that Rabastan has more information than I, My Lord. After all, you had him conduct the screening interview."

[Lord Voldemort]

Voldemort stepped to the head of the table, spreading his hands to indicate the chairs to his left and right, as he sat.

"Come, have some wine. No man can speak long with a dry mouth." He was having a relatively good day, and it showed in his manner. With no further hints, the wine made a short circuit, filling three glasses, and following it closely, the platters opened, to reveal not only the pheasant, but a varied assortment of side dishes to accompany it.

"I have noticed that you both came to similar conclusions about Mr Bishop," he commented, helping himself to some of the food on the table. "Rabastan, would you pass the sweet potatoes, please?"

[Rabastan Lestrange]

"Yes, my Lord." Babs passed the heaping plate to the Dark Lord, with one hand, keeping his glass in the other. If these glasses were going to fill themselves, he needed to keep an eye on it.

"I am hesitant to even intimate to Mr. Bishop that a better position than front-line shock troops might be available. I don't believe he has the mental or emotional capacity to handle much more than that, without bragging about it to every Tom, Dick, and Regulus in the Wizarding world." He thought the pheasant far too well cooked, but he'd consume it just the same, along with a heaping share of slightly less-violated vegetables. "My thoughts on testing him are that we should do one of: sending him on an actual hunt, having him track a decoy, or having him track one of our better vanishing acts, like Rookwood."

[Lucius Malfoy]

After taking a small sip from his wine glass, Lucky spoke. "I'm afraid I have to agree with Rabastan. Mr. Bishop does not seem to possess the discretion necessary to be an asset as much more than a part of the front lines. Since when I spoke with him, he was not even aware of his own location, I'm hesitant to believe in his tracking abilities, although I suppose he might concievably perform better on an actual hunt."

Lucky took a careful bite of the pheasant. When he had finished, he spoke again. "He certainly showed no ability to speak carefully, nor awareness of his situation in my encounters with him."