Disclaimer : I don't own anything you recognise. I do, however, own the story. Go me!
Corruption : A little crime never hurt anybody.
By Vesuvio
Ylsa looked up from the keyboard and grinned. The Dancing Harlot was full with the usual crowd, Lucas and his
intellectual buddies leaning over the bar, Tessa quietly listening to the jazz Ylsa was tinkling out on the old piano,
and Remy and Cedis in their respective corners with their respective groups, eyeing one another with reasonable
animosity. Her grin widened. Remy kept digging himself in deeper holes with Cedis. First his sister, then his wife - Remy
never knew where to stop. Loveable rogue.
"Oi, Vesuvio! We ain't payin ye ta sit around starin' inta space, fille. If ye don't stop wit' de daydreamin', even dat uncle o' yours won't b'able ta save y' job, savez?"
Ylsa looked over at Roberto, the barkeep. The smile on his face told her he was only joking.
"Hey, chere, I don' need dis job. I'm wealthy enough as it is. If y' keep harrasin' me, I'm gon' jus' walk out, y'hear?' She called back. 'I only do dis cos I'm bored.'
Roberto grinned fondly at her, before winking and turning back to his glasses. Ylsa turned back to continue playing her slow jazz,
her face absent. Her mind wasn't on the music, but rather a letter she had recieved from her tutor earlier that morning.
Ylsa Vesuvio
Apartment 4
Toulouse street
New Orleans
Chere Ylsa,
I have been contacted by an old friend of mine, a teacher, who has heard of your incredible progress in magic.
He has requested that you transfer to his school in England for a year. I believe that this will be a brilliant opportunity
for you to expand your knowledge and, to con a phrase 'broaden your horizons'. And even if you do not agree, your uncle does, so tough.
Please be ready for a Friday, as I will be coming to collect you and take you to Diagon alley in London via portkey
Yours,
Talia Mesclon.
Ylsa cringed as she thought of her uncle. Even if she had wanted to turn it down, anything her uncle
believed would 'broaden her horizons'(translation - get her out of his hair for a reasonable amount of time), was a
must in his books. If he knew what she really did for a living, he wouldn't let her out of his sight.
However, she did not want to turn this down. She had a fairly good idea who this 'friend' of Talia's was, and she
would certainly enjoy the challenge of messing with his manipulative little head. Even if that did not work, the British
Ministry were corrupt bordering on anarchic. Plenty of opportunity to get a leg in.
She got up, looking at her watch. It was way past her shift. She strolled across the club to the bar, collecting her usual
Black Russian. She was underage and Robbie knew that, but no-one really cared. She slowly made her way to the exit,
saying hello to almost everyone in the process.
After muttering a quick warning to Remy and slipping him an earpiece in case he got in trouble, she walked out into the night.
She looked left, towards the bouncer.
"Ah, bon soir, Henri. Ca va?"
The bouncer looked at her and touched his forelock.
"Bon soir, Mme Barona. Oui, ca va tres bien, merci. Et toi?"
"Le soir est jeune, Henri, et quelque chose peut se produire. Oui. Je suis tres bon, merci."
And with that, she wandered out into the light polluted night, freshly lit cigar in hand.
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