Filling Empty Promises

"Oh did you now?" he said grinning. "Well, then I suppose I'll let you run free like the rat you are," he said. He took the quil out of Cyrus's hand. "I'm sure you have plenty of these at home." he said laughing. He nodded at what Robert said, "Right, and if I see anything in the Quibbler about Khaat myself or anyone else in this room, you'll wish I had thrown you in Azkaban!" he said sternly. "When Khaat is ready, I'll call you alright! And that article had better be word for word!" he added.

"Your grandmother at times had trouble finding the exit, Mr. Skeeter. I presume you are bright enough to find your way out of this room so I don't have to be rude and evict you? I would certainly hate to have to do that, but you've stressed this patient quite enough. This is intensive care, you know. " Robert took hold of the door so that he was giving Skeeter the clear clue that he had to leave now.

Khaat managed to be able to peek out from under the sheet on the other side of the bed and see Blaire there. She reached a few fingers out towards him, really wishing Skeeter would leave, feeling insecure.

The ball obviously wasn’t in Cyrus’ court anymore, the referee had it in his hand and the whistle had been blown. Cy knew, unlike his grandmother, when it was time to leave and this was it. Obviously the Minister couldn’t read shorthand because Cy’s notes went more or less unscathed. His quill however, the Minister seemed to take a fancy to for some inane reason. Cy had no idea why, nor did he particularly want to ask but he couldn’t help but let that devilish smirk spread across his face, the one that had definitely given a few people some difficulties in the past. He could get away with murder with that smile although he wasn’t the murdering type. He was going off track though; even in his mind.

Cyrus conjured a bubble-gum pink quill and held it between his thumb and forefinger. He raised an eyebrow at the Minister and plucked his quill out of the hands of the Minister, hastily replacing it with the pink one. Cy smiled and tried his hardest to keep the laughter down. “Have that one instead,” he said finally. “It brings out your eyes, makes you look lovely.” He traced the outline of the Minister’s left eye with the end of his acid green quill and smiled innocently before looking over at Robert. “Of course, of course.” Cy said, theatrically bowing. The guy had a million tricks to go on and he had yet to run out of them. Cyrus straitened himself up and winked at Robert before pouting at the Minister. “But I really do prefer it at home in the warm.” He definitely had no intentions to serve in Azkaban.

Cy’s facial expressions changed again, morphing into a grin and he reached up to pat the Minister on the head before jumping lightly on his feet, out of the Intensive Care Unit. He yelled goodbye over his shoulder to everyone and decided to make his way home to get some his notes written up. He wouldn’t fabricate much, perhaps turn things around and make it awfully farfetched but the more fun the better and the whole scenario was ridiculous on its own even without Cy’s manipulation. Plus, he figured a feature on the Minister’s quill fetish would be an interesting way to begin his column. What a better way than to expose some of the quirks of famous figures in Wizarding Britain. How wonderful.