casual encounters || torrence

Genevieve had considered writing him back, even if only to ask about what exactly he thought he knew about her but that would have given him too much satisfaction and the last thing the heiress wanted to do when interacting with this particular Regan was to give him the impression that Genevieve followed anyone’s instructions but her own. Therefore, she waited several days, biding her time at home by catching up on some insignificant family business and on occasion, venturing into her private archives to become reacquainted with the encounters the two of them had had in the past.

The Grosvenor girl had been a meticulous journaler even in her childhood, a record of the curious plants and magical creatures she encountered as a child only transformed into a recounting of the sorts of improper behavior she enjoyed as an adolescent. While some women collected photographs or souvenirs, she collected experiences within the pages of journal after journal, all arranged by year, every encounter given a code name to avoid suspicion. It would surely become her eventual ruin she figured but there was something particularly fascinating about reliving the more exciting experiences of her past, even if only for a moment, before returning to the real world.

The young witch would have waited much longer had the curiosity and the boredom of the estate not consumed her. And to be completely frank, there was business she intended to discuss with Torrence, of course only after she had thoroughly enjoyed the verbal sparring that she was certain awaited her. Though she might be married and expecting a child, Genevieve did not intend to let such things get in the way of her insatiable desire for male attention. As long as there were boundaries, she reminded herself, there was nothing wrong with reconnecting with an old acquaintance. Her mother would be very proud of her for keeping up with her appearances, a woman’s greatest arsenal was the many connections that she had at her disposal, after all.

And as luck would have it, it was this man’s skills in potions that she was after—this time. With a well-placed concealment charm to keep anyone she might encounter in the dark about her condition and several hours’ worth of dolling up she had done in the morning, courtesy of a very suspicious maid, Genevieve apparated to the Potioneer’s shop close to mid-afternoon. One could only assume that the notorious playboy would find little reason to wake up early in the morning, especially if he continued engaging in any of the activities he had when they had first met.

Entering the shop with the sort of dramatic air about her that was signature to the very entitled heiress, she looked around, a mischievous expression on her face, “Hello?” she called out, her heels loud against the floor beneath her feet, “Torrence, darling, if you intend to have a business you ought to know that the sound of an opening door means an important customer is coming in,” she called out, though she was unsure if he was around to hear her at all. Surely, he must be. “Now I know I should have made an appointment but you did refuse me for tea and I do know how much you enjoy insubordination,” she continued, it was only half a joke. She moved closer to the counter to set down her bag. “But I assure you, this will intrigue you.”

It wasn’t a matter she had discussed before as she doubted anyone else would encourage it. But maybe, he would.

@Torrence Regan

His boots slapped against the concrete floor as he moved around his workroom. The walls were dark, magically light lamps strategically placed over his workstations, many cauldrons bubbling all at once, some simmering for weeks, some gurgling thickly with a think goopy liquid with a repugnant smell. His mind was whirring with different ideas, notes, ingredient inventories, client deadlines, and the like. Torrence Regan had been at his shop all afternoon, after waltzing in after a long night out and nursing a mild hangover. Too bad his system had gotten used to his hangover potion so much so that it didn't really work for him anymore. Still useful to sell to wizards and witches who wanted to pay his steep price and it was a popular one too.

The heat from all the cauldrons was getting to him so he pulled his black long sleeve shirt over his head (no respectable potioneer work short sleeves when leaning over brewing cauldrons) and grabbed his pack of cigarettes, needing a break. He was wearing a black sleeveless shirt and dark jeans tucked into his usual black boots. Torr was about to light up when he heard a voice call out from the front room. He was tempted to ignore them altogether. He wasn't really in the business of customer service. But then he recognized the voice calling his name and he heaved a sigh as he sidled out to the front.

He leaned against the doorjamb as he touched his wand to the end of the cigarette and light up, looking Evie up and down, vaguely remembering  her sending an owl earlier this week. "Didn't I tell you to owl me in advance?" he asked her with a smirk. "Why are you bothering me, Evie? Did you run out of servants and house elves to harass?"

Genevieve smiled slyly, her eyes traveling generously over his frame as she remembered exactly what he had looked like during their first encounter and how well he had aged since the last time they had spoken. Had she been a lesser person she might have allowed the thoughts running through her head to dictate her actions but she was twenty years old now, a proper lady that knew a thing or two about social expectation and proper public behavior. As long as she stuck to her principles, her mind could wander as much as it liked; her imagination had always served as a perfect way to keep herself busy when she was otherwise uninspired.

“Did I not tell you to come over for afternoon tea?” she retorted, “I don’t take orders for you, Torrence,” she said, though her tone was not bitter in the least, if anything, it was quite playful, “Not anymore at least,” she added with a small shrug, her smile only widening just slightly. In case he needed a reminder, she decided, but who needed to be reminded of the greatness that had been Genevieve Grosvenor as a teenage girl. If anything, he ought to be grateful that she even thought about him at all.

“Oh now, I wouldn’t set the bar so low, comparing yourself with my servants and house elves, you poor thing, you really did mean a lot to me then,” she quipped in return, her tone overtly sarcastic as she spoke, a hand running absentmindedly through her long, golden-brown hair. Genevieve was speaking quite honestly and had no qualms about the words that came forth from her mouth. She had always been that way, that probably didn’t come as a surprise at all. “Would you like to be my servant, Torrence?” she giggled softly, “Anyway by the looks of it, it isn’t like you have anything better to do unless of course, you’re brewing a cure for mankind or whatever you’re doing in that broom closet,” she nodded in the direction of where he had appeared from. "Surely, you missed me?"

I don't take orders for you, Torrence. Torr raised his brows. "You did take orders once," he drawled as he looked her over again, remembering the side of her under all that prim and polish. Ever since he had known her, she had always played this cat and mouse game. And normally he was more than eager to play, he had always enjoyed the chase, after all.

He gave her a small laugh, shaking his head as he gave her a look. "I'm not worried, you didn't mean anything to me," he said, baiting her, a dark glimmer in his eye that was both mischievous and challenging. He walked closer, his boots scuffing against the floor as he blew out a breath of smoke as he circled behind her, coming close enough to smell the fragrance of her very overpriced shampoo she probably used. He lifted a tendril of her hair between his fingers as he said "I'm no one's servant, Evie. Thought you would remember that," before he dropped it and move towards the front counter away from her.

Her soft giggle warmed the room a bit and he took another drag of the cigarette as he pushed around some of the slips and notes near the register. "I'll bet you'll be surprised if I say I haven't missed you at all. Haven't even thought about you really," he said as he sorted some envelopes into one pile or another, barely sparing her a glance even as a smirk pulled up his lips.

"But I am busy even if you think I just have this shop for appearances. That was always your forte... pretty but useless," he quipped, finally glancing up at her with a grin, half joking, half serious. "Where's that husband of yours anyway? Carrying your purse somewhere?"

He was right, she had taken orders from him before and was quite good at it, in fact. Genevieve had always prided herself in being an excellent pupil and had certainly outdone herself at that age, especially when there was little else she wanted to think about apart from the excitement of when she might see him again. The sort to always outperform anyone else, Genevieve thrived from the freedom she enjoyed when she could be someone so far from the proper lady her household had raised and become this devious, adventurous version of herself. Part of her sorely missed that time, a time when reality was something she only had to come to terms with in the morning and with a hangover.

“Oh tell yourself whatever helps you sleep at night love, if I charmed you then can you imagine what a knockout I must be now?” she teased, her eyes on him as he moved around the room, this little game of theirs probably the most interesting thing that had happened all week. Now she would have to convince him over to tea, or she would have to return, it would be a pity if he took to forgetting her again because she didn’t keep up appearances. “Which is truly a pity, I think you’d look lovely following orders, preferably without…” she trailed off as she allowed her eyes to appreciate his arms again. There was nothing wrong with a little appreciation, after all.

“But now you’ll never get me out of your head,” she noted excitedly, “Too bad I’d have to tell you no, I am a married woman after all,” she retorted, waving her hand closer to his face in case he didn’t have a chance to see the ridiculously sized pink diamond on her wedding finger. She had almost forgotten what had caused this little social visit, just almost.

“You certainly didn’t think that I was useless, in fact, if I remember correctly you found my potential to be quite intriguing,” she retorted, a knowing smirk on her face as she remembered just how well she was rewarded for her willingness to give in to temptation, and how much he probably enjoyed corrupting whatever innocence he believed her to have. Probably a little more than she was willing to admit. “My husband away is on business, which means I am all yours for the afternoon, aren’t you delighted? You did promise to show me around,” she teased, “but business first,” she said, looking over her shoulder to make sure she was alone.

“Theoretically, if I wanted to commit a crime without ever getting caught, or placed under suspicion, how might a young woman such as myself go about it? Murder of course,” she added as an afterthought, a pleasant smile on her face.

"Think you can charm me now, do you?" he asked with a quirked brow, a smirk playing about his lips. "I'd like to see you try." It was a question and a challenge and a little bit of a test. He couldn't imagine her married, didn't really understand the appeal, but he also wanted to know how much that marriage meant to her. He couldn't imagine agreeing to monogamous until the end of his days. That felt like a death sentence. He walked her eyes travel up and down and he chuckled lowly. "Look all you want, love. I'm not the one that's married," he said as he held out an arm to the side, dashing the ash off the end of the cigarette into a nearby plant pot with the other hand. The girl that worked the front of the shop was always telling him to stop doing that. Not that he listened obviously.

He rolled his eyes for her benefit as she flashed her ridiculous rock on her finger. "Like that means anything to me." A truer statement had never left his lips. Torr didn't have very many rules for himself and the made up society constraints of matrimony did not fall into his sphere of things he gave a fuck about.

"Well, that was years ago now, wasn't it. Now all I see is wasted potential," he retorted, wanting to see her self-righteous smirk falter a bit. She had always held such a high opinion of herself and while it was amusing and entertaining at times, Torr did love to get under her skin. Besides, he knew enough married men to know what 'away on business' meant and he guessed his aforementioned suspicious were confirmed. Marriage really didn't work for anyone. "Away on business? Ah, marriage on the rocks then? Looking for someone who knows how to.. delight you?" he asked, using her own words against her, watching as her long, silky hair flew over her shoulder.

Torr sighed as she mentioned business first. That was the much less interesting part of this little tête-à-tête. He knew that that was her excuse for coming here, but he would have been much better off skipping business altogether. He crossed his arms in front of him as he leveled a look at her. Of course, murder. What else did the wizarding elite have to do in their free time besides plotting the death of their beloved family and friends. Fuck, he needed to get out of this business. "It would require a very skilled Potioneer, good thing you know one so well," he started with a smirk. "What kind of effect would this young witch be going for? Stroke? Heart attack? Untraceable poison?" he said, listing all of his top potions he was asked for.

“It wouldn’t take much work, you do forget that I know exactly what you like and would feel no remorse in using it against you,” she smiled a little, somewhat enthralled by the idea that it would be her commitment to her husband that would keep her from crossing the line, not her own self-control as none of that existed any longer around men she found herself incredibly attracted to. Genevieve would keep her vows but it certainly wouldn’t keep her from going as close to the line as possible—since their last argument, the heiress felt a little neglected by her husband and the fact that he had stopped visiting her room altogether only furthered her desire to rebel. “Well we both know that if you were married we would have stopped talking as soon as I walked through the door,” she stated confidently, certain that if the tables had been turned, he wouldn’t hesitate to indulge her. Who would refuse such a beauty? She wondered.

But she also knew that men like Torrence had no appreciation for the aesthetic but rather for any woman that would give him a second glance and come hither eyes. So, Genevieve was not particularly surprised that he had not sought her out first. She was intent on making sure he realized what a big mistake that had been. “This means that I’m off limits to you,” she stated rather enthusiastically, “but that certainly won’t stop me from teasing you for my personal pleasure, and I do intend to drive you mad for me, because I’m rather bored and always in need of entertainment,” she continued, clenching her jaw just slightly at his statement. But she wouldn’t allow him the upper hand, knowing that as soon as he successfully managed to upset her, it would be her loss. “Wasted potential? I didn’t know that you were so interested in the advancement of my… education, Torrence,” she tittered, “But do not worry, none of that potential has gone to waste,” she added.

“Unlike you my husband does not prioritize his trysts over his personal work, hence why you’re still here,” she gestured at the man’s shop, “taking orders from other men and he is leading them,” she continued. “My husband is absolutely enchanted with me, I, on the other hand, am I little more difficult to keep satisfied,” she shrugged a little. Genevieve was somewhat familiar with the nature of her husband’s work and though they had occasionally talked about it, his private nature had made it almost impossible to truly know what he was up to. The idea that he was having an affair had crossed her mind more than once, especially when compared to his more recent behavior. But, now was not the time to entertain such thoughts as it would only drive her to further reckless behavior.

“How skilled you are at Potioneering, well that remains to be seen,” she quipped, “Oh I don’t know,” she sighed a little, considering the sort of torture she intended for her uncle to go through as if she was deciding between one handbag over another. “Nothing that would kill him right away, that would be no fun at all—if you intended to take care of this yourself—” she started, her hand distracted as she traced small shapes into the counter with her fingertips. “what would be the most entertaining way to go about this?”

"Well then, you're welcome to use it against me anytime," he told her, the double entendre clear is his low voice, his dark eyes promising a willingness to play. He didn't have anything to lose here if he wanted to call her bluff. He wasn't the one tied down with ball and chain. Although.. thinking of that now did get him a little excited. He wondered if she had any new tricks she would want to show off. It had been a long time since they had messed around. He gave her a sardonic smile. "Me married? Did you forget who you were talking to?"

"Off limits but bored," he repeated, shaking his head at her patronizingly. "It sounds like you need me more than I need you," he summed up. The sound of his full name on her lips was interesting. Did that mean he was getting under her skin? He hoped so. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about her advanced 'education' but he had learned a few new things too. "Hmm, think you could show me a few new things that you've learned?" he asked, the barest of grins on his face.

The whole 'my husband is a great man' was dull and uninteresting to Torr. He rolled his eyes and pretended to yawn. "So your husband bores you and you're looking for someone new to play with?" He held his arms open a bit and smiled at her. He didn't necessarily need to go looking for new playthings, but if she wanted to walk into his shop and get a little something extra on the side in addition to his order, he wasn't going to complain. Besides, he did kind of wonder about that advancement of education she had mentioned...

His eyes traced her long, delicate fingers as they made patterns on his counter top and he leaned into it, his elbow leaning down as he gazed at her. "Are you trying to torture him a bit, Evie? How naughty," he told her, his tone completely free of judgement despite his words. "I would go poison. Something slow, torturous... looking to get rid of your husband already?"

“I could have had you as a husband if I wanted to, Torr,” she stated pointedly, grinning at the thought of being married to someone so disenchanted with the monotony of monogamy. In an alternative universe, had she been devoid of silly things like feelings, it might have been a very successful marriage. Two people, living together under one roof but completely free to live life as they liked, to go as they pleased, to play games with whoever they wanted without the worry of silly things like social expectation or emotions, it all sounded rather pleasant.

“Imagine all the fun stories we could have told each other over dinner and how nice it would be to go out with whomever you pleased only to come home to the most beautiful girl in the planet," she sighed theatrically, "Even I would have been rather jealous of all that luck,” she continued on. It felt very natural to talk about herself, but that was not something new.

She bit her lip softly, extremely tempted by his offer but not stupid enough to allow herself to follow through with her instincts, as those always found a way to work against her favor. “I might have needed you back then, but I was young and impressionable and so open to understanding myself, soul searching you might say,” she began, the tone in her voice rising dramatically as she considered how funny it sounded coming from someone like her. “But now I’m a proper lady, imagine all the horrible things the Prophet would say about me if I made it a habit of revisiting all of my old flames,” she added, her eyebrows rising just slightly to add to the faux horror she figured she would experience. “Put your imagination to good use, I’m certain that you’ve been thinking about me for years now, no need to deny it,” she followed, laughing softly at the thought.

“He doesn’t bore me, I’m simply bored because he isn’t around to play with me, and what is someone of my status to do in a house where everyone does everything for me? Surely you out of all people would know that boredom inhibits all sorts of nasty habits and naughty thoughts,” she added, leaning forward just a bit as he did, listening to what he said closely. “If I wanted to torture him, I’d give him a proper spanking or—worse,” she grinned, he could imagine whatever he liked with that. “But that would be no fun. No, this is for someone I’ve loathed for years and could do better off without. If you’d rather teach me how to do it well, I’m an excellent potions maker in my own right, and as you very well know I am quite receptive to your teaching methods.”

'I could have had you as a husband if I wanted to, Torr.'

He tried to stifle it, but he couldn't stop it. He just laughed at her. Full deep laughter that he felt in his gut, his eyes crinkling. He didn't think he had ever laughed so hard and secretly, he hoped it grated against her. He knew she was full of herself and he was too, but damn. She must have lost her pretty little mind. "I know you think a lot of yourself, love, but trust me, that's one thing you definitely wouldn't be able to get with a snap of your little fingers." He rubbed his jaw as he shook his head at her and inhaled a big breath as he came back to himself. "Good joke though," he said, half-compliment, half-insult. Like usual.

Her idea of marriage though was interesting.. to say the least. Doing whatever and whoever the hell he wanted but still coming home to the same person every night? It half-appealed to him and half-abhorred him. Her ego was another matter entirely though. He just rolled his eyes at her melodrama. Torr watched her bite her lip, wondering if she had done it on purpose, as she blathered on about things he didn't care about. Reputation, the Prophet, rumors. "Clearly, you're the one still thinking of me. Thus, this visit," he summed up neatly. The owl mail, the drop in visit unannounced, she was seeking him out, not the other way around and while she was charming and as pretty as she had been when she was younger, he wasn't so addle-brained as the men she probably was used to being around who all fainted at her feet, kissing her toes for even a glance.

"I dunno, I'm sure you have house elves or servants to please you," he said, smirking. It's not like he hadn't heard of interspecies sex before. Hell, he had even tried it once or twice. But Evie seemed like the type of girl to get anything she asked for. Almost anything. Marriage to him was still off the table.

The thought of spanking sparked his interest though. "You do the spanking then? Learned a thing from me or too, I see," he nodded, glancing down her top as she leaned closer. He knew she probably meant to do that, and he wasn't ashamed to look. He wasn't the one married and he didn't care about such society limits either. Torr sucked his bottom lip into his mouth as he leaned across the counter towards her. "So you're after more education then? Not a straight, simple transaction?" he asked, one eyebrow perked as he tried to determine what exactly she was after.

“You underestimate me, Torr,” she tsked in response, extremely amused by the idea that he felt himself so much more superior to her feminine wiles that he never thought himself capable of falling for her. It almost sounded like a challenge, one she would have been more than willing to indulge him in had she not been otherwise married to a man that she cared so deeply for. But this side of her had little regard to her personal feelings, the thought of winning much more interesting than the thought of love and faithfulness that she often struggled with. “Oh it’s not just a thought, it’s simply a fact, but I have no qualms about stating the obvious, my confidence is not unfounded,” she added, the seriousness in the way she spoke making it obvious that she believed the words she said.

“I’ve already told you that I do think of you, Torr, I haven’t any clue how many times you’ll like for me to say it. I did keep very meticulous records of our encounters for my safe keeping,” she said with a nod, agreeing readily with his thoughts, but not convinced that he didn’t think about her at all. If he had not, this transaction would have been completed ages ago but instead here they were, on the verge of making a very bad decision because Genevieve was much too bored for her own good. “I also believe you’re skillful at your work, but I suppose it’s good to remind you once in a while that regardless of how many pretty girls you take to bed, I will always be the best one, top quality,” she stated, bringing up a finger to make sure that he understood how highly she thought of herself. As if her actions and words thus far had not been enough.

She wrinkled her nose at his comment, making a disgusted sound at his insinuation. “You seem to think I’m just as common as all the other girls you indulge with your time, as if I’d ever allow anyone of the house elves or servants anywhere near me. Are you even listening to yourself? I’d rather die than to ever lower myself to such things. If it comes to that, I’m quite capable on my own and I’ve plenty of other things to keep me busy that do not involve the staff,” she added, “but I suppose each to his own, I do judge you for it but I cannot stop you,” she added, giving him a suspicious look as if to insinuate the idea right back at him.

“It isn’t my favorite but I suppose spanking does the job, to I really do hate to be the dominant one, too much work, not enough pleasure,” she added nonchalantly, laughing softly at his question. “I simply want you to teach me how to make a potion, is that too much too ask?” she said, batting her eyelashes at him coquettishly, “but I suppose I won’t mind too much if you feel me up a bit, either,” she teased.

"Mmm, sure. The best one," he agreed, patronizingly. If nothing else, Evie was entertaining. Her excessive pride and narcissism rivaled very few. Maybe that's why she amused him so. "You can say it as many times as you'd like, in greater detail even," he encouraged her with a smirk. He wouldn't mind hearing her say what exactly she thought of him, how often, and how late at night those thoughts occurred...

Torr looked at her smugly as she grimaced at his comment about sleeping with the help. Of course, she would find the idea abhorrent. She had 'standards.' "Judge me all you want, that's not going to stop me," he told her with a low laugh and a shrug. If his Nan's opinions on who he should or shouldn't date didn't phase him, he wasn't sure why he would care about hers. Nevertheless, he quirked a brow at her. "You could always ask for help instead of getting by on your own.." he offered with a sly smile.

Her talk of spanking and dominating had him shifting where he stood. It wasn't the typical conversation he had in his shop, but he certainly didn't have a problem with it. His cobalt blue eyes lit up with amusement and something else akin to desire. "No need to tell me, love. I remember that well. I'd be happy to be the dominant one for you anytime," he replied, smirking. He always liked to be the dominant one and he didn't have any qualms on letting that be known.

He shook his head slowly at her as she teased and batted her eyelashes. So pretty, so obnoxious. Just like always. He nodded toward the back room of his shop. "How about a little of both?" he said as he took a few steps toward the back doorway and then glanced over his shoulder. "C'mon, don't have all day," he said and then disappeared round the corner.

“What is written in the journal stays in the journal,” she said as if it were a matter of fact, “Anyway your memory ought to serve you well enough to know just how well you pleased me, probably not as much as I pleased you but I have always prided myself at being the best at everything,” she continued, finding much amusement in teasing him with glimpses of what had been a very enjoyable, yet extremely tumultuous few months between them. Especially more so if it meant that she would leave with his attention, establishing the foundations of a cat and mouse sort of game that they could play whenever her husband was away or she was looking for male attention. In Genevieve’s case, she was always looking.

“I would have no interest in you if you cared so much about what I thought of you, can you imagine how utterly bored I’d be with a submissive,” she rolled her eyes at his comment, making it quite clear that it was this side of him that she was so utterly fond of. While she did not particularly regret getting married, Wolfie had always been an intricate part of her life, there was much to be said about how she had regretted that they had parted ways so soon. It would have probably saved her a lot of trouble with the inexperienced boys she had taken up with after school started again. There always seemed to be something missing, something that they couldn’t do for her the way that he had and that had been utterly disappointing. “Maybe I’ll ask you next time, I figure if we play our cards right, there are loopholes around this entire infidelity thing,” she continued with a smirk.

“Are you saying that you only play dominant sometimes? Are there sides of you I never got to see? Possibly a very vulnerable and sweet side that says silly things like I love you, I need you to girls that couldn’t care less?” she laughed at the thought, setting her bag down on the counter as she walked around it to follow him to the back. “You can always write me love letters, if you need to, and in return I can send you some pretty scandalous material for your eyes only,” she promised, moving her hands to undo her robes but deciding to keep them on after a moment.

“This is going to be so much fun,” she said, taking a look around the room as she brought her hands together, delighted. “Might you also brew up something for me to take home, not a poison of course but maybe something to help me—relax?” she added excitedly. She probably wouldn’t drink it because Nessa had warned her against it but it would be a nice reminder of what awaited her after she had given up her motherly duties. 

"Can't even imagine myself as a submissive," he murmured as he made his way to the back of his shop. He spoke from experience. He really hadn't been a good submissive. It didn't really suit him. He flicked his gaze back at her over his shoulder as he grinned. "Maybe? Who says I'll agree, hm?" he told her, being difficult this time around just because he could. The infidelity part didn't really concern him.. although the risk was there. Her husband was rich and powerful and that posed a threat. Then again it took two to tango and he wasn't the one who was seeking her out. Evie always did have a way of making things interesting but complicated.

He laughed at her hypotheticals, finding humor in it, considering his thoughts just a moment ago were along the same lines. Biting his lip, he shook his head at her, entertained and amused. She didn't fail in that department at least. "So curious about me, I see. I'm a man of mystery, what can I say," he drawled sarcastically, scoffing internally at saying 'I love you' to anyone. The 'I need you' bit wasn't an uncommon utterance for him and usually followed by instant gratification of his baser desires. He found that women quite liked being 'needed' in that way. "I'll write you anything you want if you want to send me something special," he told her as he rounded the workbench set in the middle of the room and eyed the various cauldrons, some burbling loudly, some simmering shyly. "Don't touch," he warned her as he went to a shelf and pulled off a leather-bound notebook, flicking it open to his poisons notes.

"Are you going to be brewing this at your place?" he asked as he flipped through his notes, trying to decide which recipe was going to best suit her needs. He hated this, thinking over the effects his potions were going to have on others. Slow, torturous death by poison. But it had become something he had learned how to deal with it. Or not deal with. This was simply a transaction. He wasn't killing anyone. You didn't blame the wandmaker for making the wand when someone uses the killing curse. "Venenum Tarda might do you well, but it takes time to make it," he told her before spinning around the notebook to show her the potion's ingredients and instructions.

"If you're wanting to relax, I always have bliss. Just made a new batch yesterday," he told her, naming his drug potion he had developed while still at Hogwarts that had earned him plenty of cash on the side.

“Oh I don’t doubt you’d disagree, foolishness does not become you,” she chided, the playful smile on her face extending to the way in which she spoke her words. “I play the submissive little mouse and you entice me with proper punishment. But I find your efforts to put up a fight, as it were, extremely endearing,” she added approvingly, following him into the back. For a moment she wondered if someone’s wandering eyes would land her in the gossip column come morning, but the thrill of the encounter was much too attractive to worry about her image at that very moment. In fact, a part of her did wish that it would somehow reach the papers so that her husband would stop inundating himself with work and pay her the attention that she deserved.

“I am quite curious, Torr, how ever will I write the fictional tale of what could have been our very entertaining marriage without the proper details? But I suppose in what our encounters lacked in words you were quite capable of saying with your body,” she teased, though Genevieve was indeed very curious about the state of his romantic life, much like she often was with all of her previous partners. It only made sense to her to assume that he had never quite found anyone as exquisite of a lover as she had always believed herself to be. But to further prove such lofty thought to herself, Genevieve wanted to know what lackluster, common girl he was going to for his needs and how incapable these women were of meeting his expectations.

She looked around the shop, fascinated by the objects she found and quite curious of some of their purposes. Even though Genevieve had been sufficiently skilled in Potions, a subject which came second nature to almost all Lovecraft children, she had never had many opportunities to step into a proper potions shop with all the dark bells and whistles one would expect of a dark wizard. How exciting, she thought, reaching out to touch something only to be warned not to. “But they must be love letters, she emphasized, of how beautiful I am and how much you need me, especially the bits about what you intend to do to me, those have always been proper fun,” she continued. Maybe she’d let a letter or two slip her fingers and somehow find their way into her husband’s hands. That would make for a very exciting weekend of making up when he was convinced that it was simply a game.

“Me? Brewing potions when I’ve got a very capable man to brew them on my behalf? Why ever should I bother?” she asked, looking over his shoulder to peek into his notebook. “But I am extremely curious of the process, shall I have a little room set up so that you can pay me a house call?” she smirked, “All for the sake of brewing the potion, of course, but you’re more than welcome to stay as long as you like. I could find much use for you around the estate when my husband is away, I’m sure,” she added. She nodded, looking at the instructions and attempting to commit them to memory.

“The most effective potion is the best, we can try this one on my uncle and maybe an even better one on my cousin and his sisters,” she laughed at the thought. Genevieve wouldn’t go that far but the thought was certainly amusing. “I’ll take some bliss home as well,” she added. She couldn’t very well tell him she was expecting but needed to consult with Nessa first. If it was only meant for relaxation, was it even an issue for her to take it?