Aloof even for an unspeakable, Damian had been coming and going through the floo network with nary a word to his coworkers. Outside of his official debriefing, he was rather vague about his time in Atlantis.
The first of the Atlantis Twelve was working his way through the gathered throng when the neon sign appeared overhead, stopping him in his tracks. Without an immediate form of egress, he did as he did in Atlantis: Try and disarm them with charm. "Someone forget to pay the floo bill?" Asking jokingly, he tried to cut through the tension, fully aware that something sinister could be afoot.
"Gotta private portkey I could fetch that'll drop us behind the Leaky Cauldron if anyone wants to get a cuppa." Punctuated with a smile, Damian had no intention of explaining why he had a portkey that could transport him from the Ministry of Magic to a tavern. Sometimes you just want to duck your responsibilities.
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In over his head |