Oh, Death

Jack blinked away the ghosts around her vision. That was her name for them anyway. She found when she had not properly distracted herself, the fog closed in on her mind and terrible memories threatened to overtake her entire mind and take her prisoner. These ghosts smirked- they were the color of the fog, they twisted and grinned but the second she tried to focus on them, they faded into nothingness. She reached a hand to brush them away, before realizing there was nothing to brush away. She pushed her hair out of her face, wiping her eyes and blinked at the man.

She was not sure she had seen him before, but that should be normal, right? An eighteen year old girl- woman?- chick. An eighteen year old chick should not reasonably know anyone who was thrown in Askaban, right? But for some reason.. he knew her. He knew her name, at the very least. She nodded. "Yeah," she answered. It had not even crossed her mind to lie. Her name was one of the only things this place could not steal from her. She would not shed it so easily.

It was harder to understand his intention rather than the fact he even knew her. But she did understand the name Zoe Gould. Her boss, one of the few people she was pretty sure she could trust, at least a little. Zoe needed her- Jack knew that much right off the bat. That was the only reason she would risk her job and try and free Jack. Jack had a million questions but she stifled them. Those could wait for when her mind was not under attack. She blinked. "Okay. How are we getting out?"

The water froze, and Zoe was pretty sure her heart followed suit. The entire house got frozen cold, and suddenly there was the sound of breaking glass... and his voice. Zoe clutched at her wand, and prayed that Paris would get Jack out in time. Out in time enough to save her anyway... she didn't have the strength to do this, she had already killed a werewolf that night, and had been heading home when she passed... this place. There was no way she could stand up to a fight with him... not tonight. So Zoe held her breath, and slowly stood up, hearing his voice.

"This is the Head for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.. I demand you stop what you are doing at once. You are overstepping your boundaries, and when caught will be put into Azkaban." She said recklessly, knowing that if he got ahold of her, if he didn't kill her right off.. she'd be as good as dead. "I demand you step away from the window at once, and come quietly, backup is on the way." She said and stepped out of her hiding spot, her wand pointed towards the broken window, her heart hammering, her eyes wide with fear, and her voice disappearing as it felt like the cold air froze her vocal chords so they couldn't move and she couldn't speak.

It had taken no more than a single sentence to return Paris to his original state of mind. With such great force Jack’s determined agreement had steered his thoughts back towards the goal that he had been assigned, and a sense of thrill had overwhelmed him, that Paris was, for the second time that evening, left with no choice but to follow the path that had been paved so plainly before him.

With a graceful motion of his right hand, Paris withdrew two important pieces of polished metal from the leather pouch that they belonged to. With a steady grip he held both his torsion wrench, and the pick that he had deemed appropriate for the situation. They were, perhaps, the only objects within that cell that had not yet been coated in a thick layer of rust.

Paris lowered himself to the ground and met eyes with the lock before him. “When I give you the word, apperate us both to London. It does not matter were, precisely, so long as you do not allow us to drown,” Paris explained as he set to work.

When the cell door emitted a faint click of approval, he turned to face the woman once more. “You wouldn’t happen to be skilled in underwater apperation, would you?” he asked, letting on that he was aware of the insanity behind his words with the wide smile that he wore.

After stowing his tools away in one of the pockets of his jacket, and double checking to make certain that they were secure there so not to loose them during their escape, Paris extended an arm towards Jack and took firm hold of one of her hands. With one final glance in her direction, Paris kicked the cell door open with the heel of his foot. The door swung open, smashing violently against the wall nearest to it.

She watched with hooded eyes as the man brought out two instruments and approached the door that had, for so long, kept her from freedom. He spoke and it really began to process into her mind- she was getting out of this cell today. She nodded at his words, before she realized he could not see her, as she was behind him.

She cleared her throat, not trusting that her voice remained, as she had not heard it for awhile, not until this man had come to save her. “Yes.” Hoarse croak… It was something. “Yeah I can do that.” She stumbled upward, her legs wobbling ever so slightly. She had paced her cell to retain her muscle mass, but they were shaky lately.

She stretched up her right leg, bending it so the top of her toe reached the top of her thigh. Her knee popped and she dropped it, before doing the same with the left. She shook her arms out, catching sigh of her hands. The blood was dried and cake, mostly. She had cleaned most of the blood off with spit to keep the wounds from getting dirty, but there was small gashes and punctures all over her hands from driving pebbles into her palms. The worst was a scratch across her left knuckles- deep and from a nice rock she had found. The other wounds would heal. That would scar.

Perfect for her collection.

Paris went to work on the door and then Jack thought to herself, wait… this was Askaban… Just because some guy had managed to get in, did not guarantee he could get us out. It was a fortress, what made her think he could get them out. But sure enough there was a click. He turned back and a faint smirk appeared at his words. She nodded.

Jack was not a runner. She never had been. When the option of fight and flight buzzed into her brain, flight was typically batted away instantly. She preferred to cock her fists and bust skulls. But the opening of the door did something to her. Her eyes widened and she flew out into the aisle, pulling him with her, looking around.

“I need my wand,” she informed Paris, her voice still low. She pointed her other hand towards the front. “Up there. I know what compartment they put it in. Can’t apparate without it.”