three broomsticks, 2pm. the older order members had long since refused to make anything a schedule, make anything consistent, out of the fear of the pattern being noticed and followed. can’t afford any sort of suspicion of course — which was why more often than not, amelia was the one being sent out. her being seen with the people they had undercover wouldn’t draw attention beyond first glance. so as she walked into the restaurant, clock rolling over to two, her eyes scanned the area. it didn’t take long to spot remus near the back, tables around him all but empty. three months with minimal updates; but he was alive. a relative term, but true nonetheless.
“you look different. did you get work done?” amelia greeted as she walked up to the table remus was sitting at, dry humor seeping through her words. her first instinct was to reach out and offer help healing the injuries she could see — concern lying in the pit of her stomach about the risk he was taking out there — but instead she bit her tongue, sitting down across from him. “how’s it going out there?”