[devil's den] friends in low places [grisha]

He was approaching his work in the devil's den like a prison sentence. He'd do his time - do whatever Oogie asked of him to the best of his ability - and keep his head down. He didn't want to be here. Being a criminal had never been part of his game plan. So he tried to ignore the various uses for the potions that Oogie requested, prefering not to think of what happened outside of the lab. His brief dealings with the Skeleton led him to think that Oogie was a pretty fair type. Don't mess with him and he'll leave you alone. So surely anyone that reaped the 'benefits' of the potions got what they had coming. They'd done something to put them in the firing line. At least that's how Jude was justifying his actions to himself. That was how he was getting through the days without feeling even more shit about himself than usual.

So each evening, after he'd finished with Noemi, he made his way to the Devil's Den. He gave the password and his name, but aside from that he didn't speak a word to anyone - not in the bar and not in the lower levels of Oogie's criminal lair or whatever the fuck he liked to call it. He gave polite answers to Oogie's men when something was asked of him, and he did his jobs. Then he checked on his polyjuice, which Oogie was allowing him to brew there, took a couple of vials with him and left. Back through the bar with his head down and eyes fixed on the exit. No loitering and definitely no chatting.

He'd grab something to eat, polyjuice and change... and then he'd hit the clubs. Hard. He tried not to think about the fact that he was probably using more polyjuice than he should to stick to his 'current repayment plan'. He tried not to think about the fact that he was probably going to be in Oogie's pocket far longer than seven months. He tried not to think about the fact that he was risking Noemi's life, that one wrong move could be dangerous for himself, for his mistress and for his family, or that he was aiding a criminal enterprise, or that he was living more of a double life than ever before and he'd never, ever, ever get to be the person he wanted to be during the daytime. At least at the den he was Jude. He was a 'he'. It wasn't questioned or commented on. That, in itself, was refreshing... and in an environment where he could be himself, it was tempting to get a little more... integrated.

No.

Wiping his hands, he surveyed his evening's work. Two sets of completed potions had been neatly distributed into several vials. Another couple of cauldrons were brewing longer-brew items - all to schedule and all looking good. Pulling his dark red hoodie back on, he pocketed the two vials of polyjuice that he'd need for the evening and headed out of the lab. He kept his head down as he moved up through the underbelly of Oogie's empire and emerged in the bar. For a moment, his eyes swept the room, spotting faces that were becoming familiar and lingering on the bar for a moment. But only a moment. Then his eyes returned to their usual blankness as he headed for the door.

Grigoriy burst out laughing as he slammed his cards down at the table, holding his hands out for the Galleons he was owed. “Goblin Fist! Finally.” He drug the money closer to him, dumping it into his moleskin pouch and tucking it into his suit jacket inner pocket. “It was a pleasure taking all of your money, boys, but I’m thirsty. You all in for a round? My treat!” In response to the mumbled responses, all in the positive, Grisha stood, slowly adjusting his jacket. “I know you’d all like that. When I come back, we can play again, no cash this time?” And with a flick of his long eyelashes, he was gliding over to the bar.

As he waited for Two to head over to him, he leaned with his forearms against the bar, eyes flicking around the room as he scanned the room. Grisha always liked to be aware of his surroundings, even when he was supposed to be in the safest place that he could be in. Things had been getting tight, higher security and more jobs since the Italians had decided to amble into Oogie’s territory. It didn’t much bother Grigoriy as he blossomed in chaos, but he had to make his travels more random. When he left Nessa’s house, he now usually flooed out instead of taking the door and walking to the nearest apparation point. It was restrictive, but he knew it was worth it.

Flagging down Two, he ordered a round of drinks for his table in the back corner, before his eyes lit up on the table across the room. As he eyed Shark Bait sitting with a group of other petty criminals that sometimes ran through there, he ordered them all a round as well, but sent one that would burn just as much as it would get the job done of getting them drunk right to Darren. “Make sure bait gets the flaming one, yeah?” The Bulgarian cooed, winking at Two as the other man fixed up the tray for Grisha. Grisha rarely let anyone dole out drinks to his table but himself, unless it was Two. There were two many people gunning for him as it was, and he’d rather not make himself a bigger target.

Tray in hand, he passed money over to Two, before heading back to the table. A moving target caught his eye, and he paused, before a wide smile covered his face. In a few steps, Grigoriy was in front of the red clad figure, blinking at the other man. This was the potion’s master that Oogie had acquired? Grisha had never really had time to speak to him, and he was beginning to see why. “Jude, right? You leaving before the fun begins? Boring.” And he hooked his hand into Jude’s bicep, and gently escorted him over to the table.

With a slow predatory smile, he stared at the man in the seat that was next to his empty one, and stared until it the man moved. Letting go of Jude, he nodded to the chair. “Have a seat, Jude~!” Passing around the drinks, giving the now absent man’s drink to Jude, he raised up his drink in a toast, watching the glasses clink, before throwing back the shot. Shaking it a little to compensate for the sudden burn, he turned light eyes towards his new friend.

“So you’re too good to hang with us? Or too shy?”

He came to a halt as someone stepped in front of him, his grey eyes lifting to silently take in the man that blocked his way. Grisha the Grim. A debt collector, or at least that's what Jude had managed to pick up. Generally he had everyone on his 'avoid' list, but Grisha was fairly near the top. Jude wasn't sure what 'the fun' that Grisha mentioned was, but before he could open his mouth to make some kind of reasonable excuse, he was being escorted over to a table. And it was probably a bad idea to inadvertently insult a guy who had 'the Grim' attached to his name. He'd write that into the 'surviving the criminal underworld' section of his memoirs if he lived to write them.

Grisha silently sent a man packing and a smirk flickered at Jude's lip for a moment. He had to admit that there was something intriguing about a guy who could dish out commands without speaking a word - and be obeyed without complaint. He squashed that thought immediately. Bad territory. Very bad territory. He carefully settled himself in the now-vacant chair, his posture looking a lot more confident and comfortable than he felt. Living half his life in the clubs helped with that. He'd gotten good at hiding his insecurities and discomfort... you attracted a lot more people that way.

The former Slytherin eyed the drink suspiciously, as he did with any food or drink that a stranger gave him, but he knocked it back all the same. Refusing wasn't going to win him any favours... especially as Grisha opened his mouth to speak with a very distinct angle of conversation. Again, Jude found himself instinctively admiring that. Put a person on the back foot in a casual way... it was an opening line that was painted as casual but had the feel of a well crafted attack. It was intended to make him apologetic, or defensive, from the get-go.

"No," he responded, his casual tone defying the apparent expectations. His eyes swept around the table, watching them watching him. He felt scrutinised. Like a goldfish in a bowl. "I'm just antisocial." His lips curled into a brief smirk at his own expense. He wondered what Grisha, and the others, already knew about him. They'd see that he was trans, surely. He could pass at a distance, but up close his features were a little too on the feminine side to completely pass without doubt. "Besides, I have an addiction to indulge," he added, deciding to once again purposely buck the expectation by being open. If you exposed your own weaknesses, it took away half the power. At least that was his decidedly-non-criminal experience.

Grigoriy was about to settle into the conversation at the table, when he heard a squabble from across the room. His first instinct was to see if Darren was in the middle of it, but the boy was over there still at the table, watching just as Grisha was. His light coloured eyes flickered over to the area where two grown men were pushing each other back and forth. They were either drunk, or stupid. Grisha just leaned back, watching them from underneath his lashes, before turning back to Jude. “Antisocial’s good. Sometimes. I’m the opposite. I like people…or at least seeing what makes them twitch.” There was a loud shout, and Grisha’s eyebrow twitched. If they would only shut up.

Letting out a hoot of laughter at Jude’s honest admission, Grisha just grinned. “Indulging is good. Healthy even. My clients would swiftly disagree with with me, but…” Shrugging, Grisha shook his head again. It was only ever Grigoriy’s business about debtors when Oogie put it in his face. Grisha had learned long ago that the best policy was to keep his nose out of things he wasn’t invited into in this business. If it was meant for him to know, he would know. He had his suspicions, but would he act on them? Probably not.

“We all have our vices. Mine just seem to vary by the day.” The Bulgarian just smiled again, before the loud shouting escalated. His brow arched upwards, and he slowly stood up. “Excuse me for a moment.” He muttered to Jude, before looking over to the fighting men. They had gotten closer, still arguing and yelling. The smile melted from his face, and his shoulders squared up, and the sharp “Hey!” that snapped from his lips had some men from his table, grabbing the two fighters. “Escort them out.” He commanded, flicking his fingers towards the back entrance towards the alleyway. When he watched them get dragged out, he motioned towards the bar for some menus. He was a bit hungry.

“You may not want to socialize with us, but…some of us are curious.” His eyes flickered towards Jude, and he sat down in the chair, leaning back. “I know I don’t give a fuck about your debt until you’re owing it and it gets on my plate, so forgive me if I try to fill my curiosity.” Steepling his fingers together and resting his chin on them, his eyes slowly perused Jude’s form. “Tell me…” He leaned forward as if confiding a secret.

“Can you really make explosive potions? Is the reason that you’re antisocial is that you’re Boss Bone’s kid and don’t want to be recognized? Are you the criminal mastermind prankster that turned all the glasses pink last week?” That last one was all Grisha, but he’d thrown it in amongst all the rumours that he’d heard so far about Jude.

The commotion drew Jude's attention too, his pale eyes moving in that direction and briefly assessing the scene before moving on. He had no idea if these kinds of fights were common or rare here, accepted or not, but by the way that Grisha was watching, he was inclined to believe it was the latter. None of his business though, so long as it wasn't affecting him personally.

His answer seemed to have been a good play though, because Grisha was smiling and laughing and not in the 'I'm planning on killing you' kind of way. Admitting he had an addiction had hopefully put the idea that he thought he was too good for them out of mind too. Jude didn't want to put himself in a place where people felt inclined to take him down a few pegs. "I'm sure that keeps things interesting," he said, or at least started to say, because Grisha stood up with a polite 'excuse me', turning his attention to the commotion.

And then it was like a switch was flicked. Grisha almost became a different person. His change in posture transformed him into someone that seemed far taller, broader... more powerful than previously. That one word command that had people leaping to their feet to obey, and then his authority to command them to be escorted out - again, no objections. Jude found an unintentional and a very unwanted shiver working its way through his body, like a web of electrcity through his veins. Apparently Grisha was some way up the pecking order. Immediately Jude was mentally re-going over everything he'd already said, starting to second-guess himself. He hadn't said anything wrong, had he? Nothing that would come back to haunt him later?

Once the men had been dragged out, Grisha switched back, posture relaxing, voice less authoritative once more. He leaned in, and Jude was torn from his internal worries as the topic switched back to himself and he was expecting one very particular question. His body seemed to tense in preparation, as if defending himself from an oncoming missile, and mentally he readied himself with explanations or ways to shrug it off, or...

The questions that came had nothing to do with his gender, and for a second he was thrown. Although, he did notice that Grisha said 'kid' rather than son or daughter. Jude always picked up on things like that, whether they were intentional or not.

"Yes,... No,... and I'm starting to wish I was," he responded with a small smirk. This was the first he'd heard about the glasses. It had to have been befoe he started, or cleared up already before he came in for the night. "Pink? Really?" The image of this toughened criminal bar with scarred faces and dark corners and... bright pink glasses... was a hilarious one.

Relaxing back in the chair, Grisha proceeded to to watch the rest of the floor, calm now that there was no more hassle. One of the things that he didn’t want to do is summon Boss Bones up there. Between the big guy dragging an almost dead Ralphie into the club, and the tension between the different micro crews that lurked around Oogie’s organization, there was already enough trouble. Once Oogie got involved, there was either missing people, or just completely dead people. He did not feel like sending another suit to the furnace just because someone couldn’t control themselves.

Grisha grinned quickly as Jude responded easily to his questions. There was no hitch to the responses, and he was please. “You catch up quick. I’m impressed. And yes pink. I was bored. And when there are only stuffy older men who like to yell about the old days and how someone else used to run Knockturn and how they want to get the foreigners out, I do my best to irritate them without getting in trouble.” And Grigoriy loved trouble, so that was saying a lot.  Even as much as he wanted to cause a confrontation, his best work was done out in the streets, and not in the home base.

One of the waitresses walked over to them, and Grisha snagged her wrist and brought her down to his level. As he talked low about ordering another round, his finger stroked her inner wrist, and he smirked at the flush that appeared on her cheeks. He relieved her of her menu burden, and handed one to Jude, before leaning his cheek in his hand again, peering closely at the girl? Boy? He rather didn’t care. Whatever Jude decided to be, that is what he would be, especially in this place.

“Order up. My treat. Sort of like a …welcome to Bedlam dinner.” He waved his hand in the direction of the rest of the room, before shrugging with a light laugh. “I’d suggest everything but the chef’s special. We’ve a little siren guest in house, and if you’re not too fond of raw fish, then that isn’t the one for you. They find her charming.” He did his best to avoid the redhead, and if she was in the house, he was staying far far away. “I hope you don’t mind firewhisky. Two does a trick with it that makes it go down smoothly and it doesn’t hit until you stand up.”

“How are you liking the Den, Jude?”

So Grisha had turned the glasses pink. Not only was he a commanding authority in the den and a feared debt collector... but also a practical joker? Who'd have known. Jude listened to Grisha speak, turning over every word for every possible piece of meaning in them. Grisha got bored. Regularly? Was that why he'd ended up doing this for a living? He didn't like older grumpy men, that was pretty straightforward, but it was interesting that he took issue with them talking about times when someone else ran the place. The foreign bit was obvious... but did Grisha have stronger loyalties to Oogie than most? And who would he be getting in trouble with? Oogie? So despite his higher standing, he wasn't free to do as he pleased. None of these things may have been that noteworthy, but Jude filed them away for future use anyway.

He watched as Grisha openly flirted with the waitress, his eyes averting in... was that... jealousy? Fuck. His hands shoved into his pockets and fingers curled around the two vials of polyjuice that were there. Was he jealous of the waitress or of Grisha? Was it Grisha's attention he wanted? Or was it the way that she looked at him, blushed... he hardly ever flirted without polyjuice anymore... and when he flirted without it, he was being Jules-the-butch-lesbian. It was always a role. One mask or another. His fingers tightened around the potion vials. Once he'd been here long enough for Grisha's liking, he could get to the clubs and find someone pretty for himself.

Drawing his hand out of his pocket, he took the menu, glancing over it. Usually he grabbed a sandwich or some chips on route to the club. His eyes went to the prices first and then darted up with a slight frown as Grisha said he was paying. Jude felt a little uncomfortable at that. There was something about it that felt like.. charity... that and he didn't want to feel like he owed anyone. Still, a pie and chips wasn't that expensive, and his stomach agreed that it sounded like a good idea.

"A siren?" he repeated with raised eyebrows. He'd never seen one before. Part of him was curious and part of him would really rather not... he remembered seeing the veela that came to hogwarts and how people reacted in her presence. That kind of lack of control was his idea of a nightmare. Professional curiosity did make him wonder whether that power could somehow be bottled. A variation on a love potion... somewhere between infatuation and the imperius curse... now that would be interesting.

"I'll uh, have the steak and ale pie.. please.." he said, setting the menu down on the table in front of him and trying to forget about the bottles in his pocket. "...and I'm usually good with my drink, although I guess we'll see what happens when I try to stand up," he added with a chuckle.

Grisha's question was another of those that seemed to have a right answer and a really wrong answer. The truth was that he'd rather not be here at all... but... there was a small part of him that was starting to warm up to it. Being able to be Jude was helping. Grisha's presence wasn't also all bad. "It's... growing on me," he responded with a small shrug. "You been here long?" he asked, curiosity getting the better of him. It was an innocent enough question, right? So long as Grisha didn't think he was prying.

He watched the waitress walk away to put in their drink orders, and turned back to the table. The card game had resumed around them, and once one of the boys saw that Grisha’s attention was back on the game, it only took a swift shake of the hand to keep him out of the round. “You see a lot of weird shit here, Jude. Yeah. A siren? She drifts around here, mostly in the backrooms.” And appeared out of nowhere sometimes, it was freaky. “That waitress, she’s a doll. Owes me a few favours. Seems like she’s in the wrong place, but she’s just as dangerous as some of the guys here. If not in strength, but in pure knowledge of the land. Get to know the people that work here, and you’ll have a one up on everyone else here.”

Then she came back with the drinks on a tray, and he could see the flash of an envelope held against the bottom of the tray. She began to pass out the drinks to everyone, passing him  the envelope which he quickly tucked into his pocket. It wasn’t the time just yet to discuss whatever information was in this new correspondence, but had it been urgent, he wouldn’t still be in his seat. He had a lot of information that came in from his network into this place, so he wasn’t surprised that he had mail there. Pulling out two galleons, he passed them to the girl, and sent her on her way with his order, Jude’s order, and whatever everyone else wanted.

The noise lowered to a comfortable rumble that  had Grisha relaxing a little bit more. He wanted to comment on how growing was the wrong thing to say. This place was like a parasite, whether helpful or hindering. Once you got deep in, there was no way outside of this place. The rhythm sunk into one’s heart and one’s veins, and the way the Undercity pulsed was the heartbeat of the city. “It’ll do that.” He simply commented, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve been in London…2 years, I think. Before that Russia, and before that home.” His Bulgarian accent thickened as he teased. “My family has a bit of a reputation in Eastern Europe.”

Grisha leaned backwards as their food was dropped off, and he thanked the waitress, before unwrapping his silverware. Dropping a cloth on his lap, he began to nibble on his food. “You work out of that old apothecary, yeah? Some of the boys saw you and the Madame moving in.” The blonde woman already had quite a reputation in Knockturn, hence the nickname. “You like it? Being from here, you like staying in this part of our city?”

He saw the exchange between Grisha and the waitress, but the smart thing to do was pretend he hadn't, so he didn't stare or comment. Grisha seemed to be giving him advice... which was.. odd. But maybe Grisha was one of those guys who liked to make it clear that they were established and knew what they were doing by handing out advice to the newbies. Either way, Jude nodded to show he was listening, but he wasn't really interested in making a mark here or settling in. He wanted to do his time and get out, but he guessed it didn't hurt to make a few connections, then maybe once Oogie had turned him loose he could actually make some money of his own. If Oogie was making enough off of him to keep him in polyjuice, then Jude could too.

"I've never left the uk, so never been," he commented when Grisha mentioned his home. He'd never had the time or funds for travel. His family tended to struggle to make ends meet and keep their house in order - there was never any left over for holidays. Jude had thought about doing some travelling once he'd graduated from Hogwarts, but honestly he had this mental fantasy of discovering new places and things with someone who mattered to him. Not moping around Europe by himself and not having the money to enjoy anything anyway.

He wasn't surprised that Grisha knew where Jude worked. Oogie had already told him that he owned the place - from what Jude had gathered, he owned most of the place. But Jude had been coming to Knockturn for ingredients long before his apprenticeship with Noemi had even started. He was... not comfortable, but familiar with the place. He shrugged at Grisha's comment though, wondering whether the 'we' that Grisha used meant he and the rest of Oogie's people or he and Jude. "Well I prefer it to Winchester. That's where I'm from. Full of muggle tourists all the time. Plus, the lab has a rooftop garden..." he trailed off. He wasn't exactly sure why he'd said that. Normally he didn't give too much of himself away, but somehow Grisha was easy to talk to. "Shame it's not a real garden. I was thinking about getting an allotment before I realised how much they are to rent." He shook his head slightly. Everything always came down to money. It was always the same. Too many dreams and desires and not enough cash to make them a reality.