Stolas did not seem at all ruffled by the scandal that he had provoked in Dumbledore's office. He just stood eyeing everyone around with a muted interest, his devilish eyes always somehow zooming back to where Blitzo stood as if he were a delicious, juicy burger, and Stolas had been an unwilling vegetarian for years.
The wizards were all standing around the great feathered demon and his goons as if they were ticking bombs, and Moxxie couldn't really blame them - they were unsettling (especially Stolas), even to Hell-dwellers - Stolas' appearance alone was worthy of fainting to a person who'd never seen the likes of him.
In fact, looking around at the faces of the people around him, Moxxie noticed how pale and scared Fleur looked like she was about to pass out. Talk about a traumatizing day. He felt bad for her: why did Stolas have to make his appearance now, when the shit had really hit the fan?
The man had a flair for the dramatic, to be sure, but could he have planned it? "Stolas, is it?" Came the voice of Barty Crouch, emerging from his shadowy plain - it seemed that now, as the representative of the Ministry, he would be taking matters into his own hands.
After another person had already made the first move, that was. "That's correct. And you are…?" "Barty Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation," he announced in an important voice. "Stolas, a Prince of Hell," he replied smoothly, suddenly opaquing Crouch's previous statement. It certainly sounded far cooler. He held out his leathery hand. Crouch seemed hesitant to shake it, but in the end, he did so, still looking as though he were being forced to kiss a cockroach. Once that was done, Stolas turned his attention to Blitzo. "Quite a mess you've made here, my fuck-rabbit.
I assume all these people know of Hell?" "I mean, they basically tortured it out of us. Staying in this fucking castle is worse than being in Hell. No way to go home, either," Blitzo replied, his mind clearly working an angle, understanding that having Stolas on their side against the Ministry and the whole of wizardkind would be a major change in the established power dynamic.
Besides, Stolas had entered through a portal. Now that he was here, they could finally go home. Even Moxxie, with his fuddled mind, understood that. "And why did you keep Blitzo here?" Stolas demanded of both Dumbledore and Crouch.
It seemed that though Crouch had stepped up, Stolas was no fool and could see where the power was distributed in the room. Though Crouch's twitchiness and stepping forward could not be ignored, Dumbledore commanded a more simple, elegant, and subtle type of authority, the type that could not be ignored by a man who knew of stature, like Stolas. "It was never our intention to keep Blitzo here, or any of the others, for that matter: we were only interested in Mr. Potter." "Mr. Potter?" Stolas asked, waving a hand out flimsily as if disinterested and mildly irritated. Still, there was something in his expression that wasn't quite right, that betrayed even the slightest bit of interest and maybe even recognition. "Moxxie.
The guys on this side of the planet call him Harry Potter," Blitzo clarified. Stolas' gaze snapped to where Moxxie was sitting as if noticing his presence for the first time, which was probably the case. Moxxie waved a little, awkwardly. "How curious, and why do they want him?" But Moxxie thought that the question was a formality. "Well, he's a wizard. Some evil guy killed his parents, and it made him special.
I think it's a tactful way of saying he's special needs," Loona said, leaning against the fireplace, her arms crossed. "Our very own Moxxie being Harry Potter," Stolas sighed, "I'm afraid you have the wrong person. If Harry Potter were in Imp City of all places, I think at least I should know of it. Being wizard, and all." "His parents turned him Imp," Blitzo explained again. "By the way, how did that happen?" "Well-" Moxxie began. "A story for another time. But curious to say the least," Stolas chirped, his eyes glinting.
It seemed weird that he should interrupt the story, being a person that didn't care much for wasting other's time. Did he want to keep something to himself, or was he just impatient to take Blitzo back home and do partake in unspeakable acts? "Seriously?" Blitzo muttered under his breath, irritated that the story should be cut short for what seemed to be the millionth time. "In any case, these Imps are mine," Stolas said with a sudden conviction that cut through the room.
He directed the statement mostly at Dumbledore and Crouch. Moxxie could feel something bad and tense brewing up, but he was more alarmed by the fact that Stolas seemed to be more than aware of the existence of the wizarding world and even more so that he knew who Harry Potter was.
It made sense that he knew of wizards, in a sense, but about Moxxie? It just seemed too odd. The other wizards in the room were on edge, even more than they had been when Stolas had unexpectedly arrived. Still, now he was laying claim to them - even worse than that, he was laying claim to Moxxie, and he knew that for some reason or another, the wizards wanted to retain him. Bad.
He had the feeling that it went beyond the tournament, too, that they had many things planned that involved him, things that Moxxie couldn't even imagine yet. "I'm afraid," Barty Crouch said in his usual wavering voice, "that Mr. Potter is bound under a magical contract and must participate in the Triwizard Tournament." "Magical contract, you say? My, my, that's no good," now, Stolas' attention was almost completely on Moxxie. He knew that he had only come to rescue Blitzo, and Moxxie had expected him to make an offer only to take Blitzo back, but he seemed to want Moxxie, as well, like the plan had changed, somehow.
It made him even more nervous. "Does it explicitly state that he must remain here, with you, at all times?" Stolas asked slyly. Say what you might about him, but he was quick-witted in these things, even though he had, on many occasions, seemed rather simple-minded to Moxxie.
But the feathered demon that stood before them seemed the exact opposite of simple-minded. He acted exactly like the stature that he possessed. "Well, no-" Barty Crouch began hesitantly. "So it stands to reason that he should be allowed to return to his home with me until such a time as he needs to participate in the tournament?" Stolas asked, seeming to put pressure on the entire room.
Crouch was about to protest, but Loona cut him short. "I mean, all of you did say that this was temporary until we found a way to get back home," she said through slitted eyes. "It would make sense for Mr. Potter to return to his home, so long as he can come back here, to Hogwarts, in a constant manner to further his training," Dumbledore acceded through glittering eyes.
He seemed to be thoroughly interested in the situation and mostly in control. He was even more interested in Stolas. "This is outrageous!" Cried out the tall French woman, apparently the bolder of the rest of the silent people in the room. "He does not need to keep training, and you saw what happened today! Let him go back to Hell," she spat, "where he belongs." Moxxie knew that that was what he wanted, too, but he couldn't help but feel slightly offended at the woman's words.
The general murmur of agreement that went through the room at her statement only furthered Moxxie's sense of generalized hatred towards his person. Well, if they wanted to drive him away, he certainly wouldn't object. "We have no cause to believe that Mr. Potter was aware of his powers, and those very powers give us all the more reason to want him to return: so that he may learn to control them," Dumbledore countered curtly. "Besides that, there is no guarantee that the Potter boy will return. We should keep him here until the tournament is over," Moody put in, speaking for the first time. Moxxie hadn't even realized that he was there.
It seemed an odd comment coming from Moody, but Moxxie understood his point. "Mr. Potter is an adult, and the potential consequences of his absence from the tournament have been explained to him. I am certain that he can be made to see reason," Dumbledore stated quite simply.
The room seemed to be at a standstill, each person looking like they were sizing the opposite breed up as if one of them was about to strike. "So we're all set to go?" Stolas finally said, clapping his hands together cheerily.
Moxxie didn't know how in the hell he had concluded that from the conversation, but when nobody objected, Moxxie wriggled up, trying to stand up and finding that he saw stars before his eyes whenever he tried to move. Still, he did so slowly. "We should go get our things from the rooms. Millie's there, too," he pointed out as Blitzo lumbered over to help him get up. He was badly bruised, and he could feel ached in every pressure point of his body.
Though magic had undoubtedly healed the worst of his wounds, like the fall on his leg, they probably hadn't had time to patch him up properly - and he wondered whether there wasn't some wizard morphine that they could give him to soothe the strain in his muscles and the growing pounding in his head.
Some wizard morphine actually sounded amazing as Blitzo roughly pulled him to his feet, but he wasn't about to ask for some. Besides, he'd heard from somewhere that Snape was the 'Potions master,' whatever that meant, but that sounded like the person who ran the school's meth lab.
As he got up, Loona and Stolas moved around them and followed, going towards the door. "I'll escort you back to your chambers," Dumbledore offered - it would've sounded weird coming from any other mighty figure. Still, from Dumbledore, it seemed almost natural that the Headmaster should be occupied with such a menial task as escorting someone to a room they had already been to a million times. Moxxie just nodded, a hand on Blitzo's shoulder as they exited the room. A deathly silence had settled over the rest of the wizards.
Moxxie snuck a look over at Crouch before he left, and the man seemed to be fuming, his mind clearly working hard to find a way to make Moxxie stay. Moxxie didn't understand why it was so important that he should - after all, he knew that he didn't want to face the terrible consequences of the Goblet, whatever they may be, so what were these people so afraid of?
He could've easily run away when he and Millie had gone to Diagon Alley or even tried to escape in numerous other circumstances. He watched them all suspiciously as they wound their way down the stairs, the other two demons that Stolas had brought with him trailing at their tail, looking back at the wizards menacingly, but they were so silent they almost faded into the background.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
The more Moxxie walked, the more his limbs relaxed, and soon he wasn't leaning on Blitzo anymore. He was only glad that he had shifted into his Imp form while he was battling the Firebird - who knew what kind of damage he could take in his human form? Would it matter?
He didn't have his scar when he was in Imp form. Did that mean that his Imp form was more resilient, or was that just a facade that his very body had created when he had been changed into an Imp? He didn't know, but he didn't care to find out, at least not in a hard way.
He was keenly aware of the awkwardness and oddity of the random mix of people that he was walking with. Still, he was too overwhelmed with information and muddled from the fight to actually pay any mind to be uncomfortable.
Plus, he had nearly fallen asleep back there, and his body and mind couldn't forget how near they had been to rest. "Moxxie!" A voice called out from behind them as they were halfway through the hallway. Moxxie turned around to see Fleur rushing towards them, her dirty blonde ponytail bobbing in a mess behind her. Even mudded up, shaky and pale, she was quite beautiful.
Moxxie didn't even want to know what he looked like - he had none of the elegant outfits he sported back home, except the one he had come with. They had all been wearing clothes that they'd found in the closets, slightly ill-fitting but still fine, alternating between those and their usual clothes.
He felt tacky, especially in the ridiculous underclothes of the robes that he had had to leave behind in the forest: he didn't feel comfortable at all, and he hadn't since they had arrived.
It would be nice to take a yellow-water shower back home, the water always either too cold or too hot, never failing to cut off before you had a chance to wash off all the product from your hair. It would be better, though, somehow, of that he was certain. There he had his cologne, his clothes, his everything.
Maybe he could start feeling like himself again, and maybe he'd get back in touch with the Moxxie that he had been before this had all started because with each passing day, he felt more and more out of touch with Moxxie and felt his Harry character begin to blend into him.
His wind briefly flickered to his revelation in the woods, but he quickly pushed those thoughts back down - he didn't have time for them right now.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
He separated from his crowd and went to meet Fleur halfway, the others looking back at them suspiciously but keeping their distance. "Moxxie," Fleur panted as he reached her, and it was then that he noticed the large, elegant white egg in her hands.
Moxxie hadn't managed to take a good look at it before, for obvious reasons, but now that it sat before him in the golden light of the hallway, he could appreciate how beautiful it was. It was cream-colored and looked like marble and milk in the torchlight; it had wispy golden veins winding up and down its length, and the veins seemed to change color in the light, now bronze, now silver, now gold again. Fleur held it up to him, and Moxxie took it carefully in his hands.
He had thought that it would be fragile, but the egg sat sturdy and heavy in his palms. "You will need it," Fleur explained, "for the second task." Moxxie looked up at her blushed cheeks, regaining their usual rosy tone.
He briefly pondered what consequences this poor girl would face with her Madame after seeking Moxxie out, and he was struck by her acts of kindness. Here was a person who didn't seem to hate him so much. "Thank you," he said meaningfully. Fleur smiled and started turning away. "Wait," he urged, lowering his voice so that the others might not hear. "Before, in the room, why didn't you tell anyone that Millie was in the forest?" He asked her.
Fleur's eyes darted behind him, but she must've judged that they were a good distance away because she didn't seem particularly alarmed. "She helped me. You would get disqualified, certainly. But maybe I would, too," and he saw that what she was saying was true because he thought he recognized that same, ambitious glint in her eyes, the same that had appeared before, during the task, when she had been headstrong even after a concussion.
Moxxie nodded. They had become even when she had lied for him, but she had now done him an unnecessary kindness by bringing him the egg, which he would've forgotten otherwise. "Thank you, anyway," he said again. "Goodbye, Moxxie," and now she really did turn away.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Moxxie rejoined the group, now with the egg in his hands. It felt warm and safe, almost comforting. No one asked any questions, and they all kept walking in silence until they had reached the rooms, which was quite odd, considering that both Blitzo and Stolas were among them, being notorious chatterboxes.
But there was something about Dumbledore's accompanying figure that probably kept them silent. Blitzo had barely opened the door to the room before a small figure darted past them and flew into Moxxie's arms. Moxxie almost toppled over from the sheer force with which Millie threw herself onto him, and he would've cracked his head falling if he hadn't been quick enough to grab the doorframe.
Still, despite the shock and his already shaky physical state, his rockiness was short-lived and, in a moment of bliss, he released his hand from the doorway and allowed himself to collapse as well as he could under Millie's weight, reveling in her familiar smell (mixed with the smell of the forest and a sharp tang of blood, too, but that was irrelevant), in the press of her shapely body against his.
He didn't care that she was crushing his ribs or that every part of his body had burst into flames upon contact with the floor: Millie was in his arms, and that meant that she was safe - that meant that he was safe, and he felt himself melting into the security of her, of all she represented.
He felt as she immediately set her lips on his fiercely, and the warmth of her mouth seemed to expand into his and trickle down his throat like honeysuckle. For a moment, all that he had gone through, the stooges in the room, and everything else in the entire world were lost, unimportant and irrelevant if she was kissing him if she was holding him. Someone cleared their throat. "Can you guys, like, not?" Loona asked, stepping over them and heading inside.
Millie and Moxxie grudgingly separated and stumbled to stand up. Millie had to help Moxxie out.
Though it was clear that no one had come to see to her wounds, Millie was faring fairly well, and she definitely seemed in far better shape than Moxxie, even though the bird had grabbed her roughly and almost eaten her. Millie held tight to Moxxie as they entered the room after the others, as if afraid he might fly off.
Moxxie was grateful for her presence, but he was also grateful to have her there as a nifty crutch if he should fall.
He was aching again. Badly. During the whole sequence, Millie hadn't even noticed that Stolas was among them, and when she suddenly caught sight of him and his bodyguards, she nearly let Moxxie drop. He stumbled, but she quickly gathered herself and held him steady against her. Her wide eyes were on Stolas, then Dumbledore, then Stolas again. "Stolas?" She asked. "Is there another?" Stolas asked, sauntering around the room as if he owned the place, inspecting it like some extensive interior designer, his guards just behind him.
He was hovering near Blitzo, and for once, Blitzo actually seemed to be gravitating towards him, as well. He might have been repelled by him on many occasions. Still, now Stolas had appeared as their savior - judging by how grudgingly Crouch had let them go, Moxxie doubted whether the wizards had ever had any true intentions of actually returning them home. It was scary to think of what might've happened if Stolas had never shown up, and for once, Moxxie was grateful for the demon's perverse obsession with Blitzo. "W-What happened?" Millie asked, her eyes darting from Dumbledore to Stolas. "I've come to your rescue," Stolas informed her, running a finger through a bookshelf.
It was a little dusty, and he ruffled his feathers as he flicked the dust off. "Really?" Millie exclaimed, seeming incredibly excited, hugging Moxxie again, right where his ribs were hurting the most. This time, he couldn't help but grunt in pain. "Gross, we don't need to hear you are coming," Blitzo commented. Millie ignored him. "I'm sorry, Moxx-Moxx, come, sit down," and she guided him to a couch. Moxxie gratefully sat down, pulling her down with him and digging his face into her short hair, blocking everyone out as if he were a toddler. "Yes, now please, if you'd pack your things," Stolas indicated, a tad impatient.
It seemed that he wasn't the only one that had almost forgotten Dumbledore's eerie and inexplicable presence in the room because they were all acting as if he wasn't even there. It took one sound from him to make them all jump. "If I might have a word before your departure," Dumbledore said, gesturing towards the couches. They couldn't say why, but the rest of them all sat down at Dumbledore's bidding. Even Stolas seemed willing to chat with the man, though his guards stood by his sides. At least Dumbledore was certainly more interesting than Crouch.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
When they were all seated, Dumbledore spoke again, this time addressing Stolas. "Stolas, I believe that we have much to learn from one another." "Not as much as you'd think, Mr. Sexy Old Professor," Stolas said smoothly, running a claw through one of the feathers, smoothing it out. "I know more of your world than you'd care to think." "I believe you. However, do you know how much I know of your world?" Stolas paused at that, but he was interrupted by Blitzo. "Don't listen to the guy, Stolas, and he roofied us." "Roofied? But that is only alright when I do it to you, kitten," Stolas purred, reaching a hand out Blitzo's cheek. Blitzo gently slapped it. "Ah, I see you've had a conversation with Fudge," Dumbledore said severely. "Damn right we did," Loona hissed from her chair. "I hope you will accept my sincerest apologies - I was afraid of what a shock like a timeline change would do to you. I'm sure you can understand my worries about Hell dwellers losing their minds in my own school," he said severely. "It ain't right," Millie said, shaking her head, her nostrils flaring. "You can't just drug us - that can't even be legal!
What kinda law system you got down here, anyway, that you can just do that to people without any consequences?" "All very valid points, munchkins," Stolas interrupted, "but the old man is right, besides the fact that he tried to date-rape you. After all, haven't we all?
However, I do need to fix whatever damage you might've done out here. Wouldn't want my little Blitzy-pie-hole to face the wrath of Lucifer, now would we?" Stolas quipped, stroking Blitzo's cheek again, but this time Blitzo didn't bat him away. He was right, and they knew it - they had feared the consequences of their exposure since the moment they arrived, and they supposed that Stolas was the better of the demons to be dealing with their mess.
Another might've just killed them and tried to reverse the damage as best as possible with them out of the way. "I am prepared to offer my full collaboration," Dumbledore stated. "In exchange for something, of course," Stolas fixed his surprisingly ardent, dark stare on Dumbledore. "Merely your own willingness for collaboration." "Information, you mean. You want me to clean up a mess of over-exposure by exposing matters further?" Stolas scoffed, seeming slightly amused. "I think you will find I can be quite discreet," Dumbledore said simply, and, coming from his lips, it didn't seem as suspicious as if someone else had said it. It simply sounded like a warm invitation.
Obviously, Stolas warped it however he wanted. "Hm. You know, you're quite the little treat for such a wrinkly man… and I do wonder if your long carpets match the drapes…." Stolas looked him up and down, but Dumbledore seemed unfazed as if he didn't care what he said and took no offense by it. "My type are little twinks like Blitzo, anyway.
But I'll think of it, and I suppose," Stolas said in resignation, and at that point, Moxxie wasn't sure if he was talking about fucking Dumbledore or collaborating with him. Maybe they were the same thing - Moxxie had a good gaydar, and it pinged whenever he was near Dumbledore. "Now," Stolas said, returning his attention to the Imps, "would you all please go fetch your things? Or mama will take you back home without getting any ice cream on the way."
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
They all headed back to their rooms to gather their things, and once they were alone, Millie shut the door behind her and looked at Moxxie questioningly. "What happened out there, Moxx?" She asked, looking both awed and a little frightened for him.
Leave it to Millie to be scared for him when he had been the one shooting fire from his palms. Once she had asked him that question, he realized that he hadn't really even thought about the whole matter of his powers yet - it had all happened in a blur, and when he had woken up to utter short, he had not exactly had the optimum state of mind to be thinking of such things. He sat down on the edge of the bed and looked down at his red palms.
They looked unextraordinary, just like the rest of him. And now, with matters more or less settled and no adrenaline-induced numbness from his brain, he couldn't bring himself to believe that he had really done what he did. Certainly, he would've thought it had been an illusion if it hadn't been for the many witnesses and the professors' concerns about his power.
He remembered the train of thought that had led to the act, and he remembered his consolidation of the two people within him and how at peace he felt with his warring interior. Still, he couldn't actually remember what had brought on the flame. He knew that he had been frightened for Millie's life, too, and that surely wasn't a minor factor to consider - he was horribly under pressure, but for Lucifer's sake, he could not bring himself to even try to summon the flame again.
He wouldn't want to in here, anyway, but nothing was stirring within him that he could pinpoint as the source of his power. He sighed and set his hands down. "I'm not sure, Mill. I'm not sure of anything anymore," he told her, and he found that to be the horrible truth.
Somewhere along the way, between the tournament, the shocks, the identity reveals, and all the drama of the wizarding world, he felt he had scattered bits and pieces of himself. When they went back home, he didn't know if he would know how to act if he had time for leisure and relaxation.
He felt the tears begin to well up in his eyes, and Millie sat beside him and held his hands. "Sugar, it isn't something to be sad about," she said with a strained laugh. "You're amazing. Just look at what you were able to do," she stroked his hand with her thumb, a loving and proud look in her eyes. Moxxie didn't even know how to explain what he felt. "I just don't understand anything," he said, his voice cracking.
He might've minded breaking down in front of anyone else, but with Millie, he allowed his tears to come, and he knew that she would brush them away. "You don't have to understand everything, Moxx. It's alright not to be in control sometimes," she said softly, and there was some truth to what she was saying. "You have this amazing power. You may not understand it yet, but it's in you. It is you. Maybe part of the problem is considering it something different than what you are, my Moxx-Moxx." Moxxie thought over her words, and he was shocked by how much she understood without him having to tell her. How did she pinpoint it so exactly when he himself struggled to form a cohesive thought about it?
He buried himself in her arms and nearly fell asleep there, feeling the rhythmic beating of her heart, her warmth, her woodsy, Millie-like smell.
Everything about her was soft, comforting, just when she needed to be. After a moment, she took his head in her hands and gave him the softest kiss, then looked him straight in the eyes, still holding his head. He looked up at her like a puppy. "Everything's gonna be just fine, alright, my sugar? Now let's grab our things and get the hell outta this dump," she said with a smile.
Moxxie nodded and accepted her help getting up. They both stood and gathered their clothes, though there really wasn't much else in the room that belonged to them. Millie stole a candlestick that she thought looked pretty, and Moxxie went to grab the satchel that they'd brought when they'd gone to Diagon Alley.
He felt the weight of it and remembered all the gold and jewels in the vault at Gringotts. In any other circumstance, finding out that he was the heir to a tremendous fortune would've been a ground-breaking, life-changing event, but it was funny to see how it had just slipped his mind after everything that had been going on.
He looked at all the valuables inside - he and Millie could easily just not work another day in their lives, using the portal to get all the money they wanted whenever they wanted. For that matter, they could make Blitzo, Loona, Millie, and their families rich beyond their wildest beliefs, but for some reason, he felt apprehensive about letting other people know; not because he wanted to keep it all to himself, but rather because it meant that everything would change, even back home, and everything had already changed so much that for this to alter things as well would be too much. He decided that there would be another time to think of all these things. He only hoped that Millie wouldn't say anything, either, until he had decided.
He knew what he had to do, but he wasn't sure if he could do it yet. He flung the satchel over his shoulder, patted his pants to make sure that both wands were still on him, and then he and Millie headed out the door, where everyone was already waiting for them.
When they were in the living room, he noticed he had forgotten about the egg and leaped over to grab it from where he had left it on the couch. Millie eyed it suspiciously but didn't say anything. "Took you long enough," Blitzo complained, "let's get this show on the road!" He said, clapping his hands.
His excitement was written plainly all over his face. Loona also looked happy, and she was even twirling her phone around her fingers expectantly. "Shall we?" Stolas asked, taking the Grimoire from one of his demons and opening it. He shortly had the portal open. "Professor Dumbledore," Stolas greeted coolly. "Stolas," Dumbledore nodded his head respectfully, "I am sure we shall be seeing more of each other." "We certainly shall," Stolas replied, winking. Then, he stepped through the portal. "Blitzo, Loona," Dumbledore said as they both turned to the portal, and they waved before taking off. "Mr. Potter, Mrs. Potter," Dumbledore said respectfully.
Millie looked slightly taken aback: it was the first time anyone had referred to her that way. "Professor," she said, pursing her lips. Clearly, she was still holding a grudge for his having drugged her - it wasn't so much the reasons for drugging them that were irksome, but rather the uncomfortable reminder that wizards could abuse their power as much as they liked, and they would be none the wiser.
Millie stepped through the portal, and Moxxie nodded at Dumbledore as he left. Surprisingly, the old man didn't say anything, and he just looked at Moxxie knowingly. There was the face of a confident man. He knew that Moxxie would return, and so he didn't have to urge him any further. It made him nervous. Without further delay, Moxxie stepped through the portal.