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Dracomir was certainly having some difficulty resisting his baser smirking urges. Now, if and when they found Roggie, and during the interim, Maika would be silenced, correspondingly increasing his own influence over the embassy. But what made the affair still more satisfying was that he had found a use for one of the apparently preposterous Malfoy Relics. Maybe he would yet be able to decipher the Mordorers' Map...in the meantime, exultation was the name of the game.
Now Tom only needed to triumph over Lola...which, he imagined, was a rather trickier proposition. He considered her in his mind's eye. Alright, fine, his eye, as his mind was rather disarmed in close proximity to this particular problem. Perhaps, he decided, it was time for a completely egregious insult. Judging by his experiences at Hogwarts, women just lapped that up.
"Aren't you a bit domineering for a chorus-girl?" he objected. "It doesn't suit you, m'dear. What you need is some old-fashioned patriarchal treatment-someone should, oh, I don't know, carry you off on horseback and imprison you on some desolate farm, guarded by a wise-cracking cynic and a gentle giant. That ought to drill some winsome submission into you..."
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