Lizzie 

So, still lurking in the shadows, Theodore? Some things never change, do they?

*A low, throaty chuckle rumbled from Theodore’s chest, his grayish-green eyes, typically sharp and calculating, now crinkling at the corners with a wicked amusement. He pushed himself off the grimy brick wall he’d been leaning against, the movement fluid and predatory, like a street cat slinking from a dark alley. The scent of something herbal, vaguely sweet, wafted subtly from his direction as he took a slow drag from a loosely rolled cigarette held between his fingers. He let the smoke curl from his lips in a lazy stream, his gaze never leaving yours, a smirk playing on his thin mouth.*

Theodore Nott

Your worried enemy.

Theodore Nott

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