Her quick quotes quill was perched on its writing pad with poise and she smiled affectionately at it. What on earth would the aging blonde woman without it? Most likely she would have to take notes herself and her delicate hands just could not handle that. Thinking about her hands made her lift them up into view. Oh they were lovely weren’t they? Today they were painted lime green, her favorite color of course, and she would be reluctant to change it tomorrow. Maybe she just wouldn’t.
Rita smiled and set her hands back down on her lap, waiting not so patiently for her newest scoop to return with the tea. She fiddled with her thumbs and looked around the room. Her face scrunched as she noticed the décor. It was far too old fashioned for her taste. No bright colors at all and it was making her mood sour surprisingly so.
The chime of the horribly dreary clock made Rita start and she gasped quietly. The chime also reminded her that she had another appointment in an hour. It was so tiring to be a journalist at her prime. Everyone wanted their story to be published, or rather she wanted it to be published and didn’t stop until it was. What else could her readers expect from her? She had to be nothing less than the best.
“When do you think that tea will be done?” She trilled with her annoyingly high and proper voice. The sound cut through the air and the man in the kitchen shuddered because of it.
His fist clenched and unclenched, the man exerting extreme self control in not throwing the tea mug at the wall right then. What he was planning was going to take time and would require perfect execution and that meant no signs of anger or hate or malice of any sort.
“It’ll be ready in just a minute!” He called out in a deep, baritone voice that he hoped had an undercurrent of niceness. His late wife had always told him that his voice was a dead giveaway to the feelings he really had. That fact made him both angry and more determined.
“Well, okay then!” She called back to him. In boredom she continued to twiddle her thumbs and wait impatiently. There were so many stories that were going on that she could get the scoop on, and yet she was stuck waiting on an imbecile who took ages to make tea. If he was a real wizard he would just zap them up some and get on with the interview. The article she was writing on him would be edited to suit her feelings, most definitely.
Finally, the tall and burly man came into the room with a kettle of tea and two cups, both already filled. He sat down on the only other dreary chair on the room and placed the tray of tea on the dull table in between them.
Rita tried to give him a pleasant smile, but she was sure it came across as annoyed. Oh well. As she always said, the truth was better than the untruth. It was something she firmly lived by.
“So are you ready to get this interview on the way?” She asked excitedly, taking the tea cup that had been placed in front of her. She brought it to her nose and sniffed, pleasantly surprised by the scent. He had taken the extra time to place milk and honey in her tea. How sweet of him. Rita smiled and noticed an odd look on his face. She wanted to question it, in fact she would later on, but for the moment she would save the questions. After all, it was better to catch someone off guard later, rather than at the moment where it was the first thing on their brain.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” He replied, his voice betraying nothing.
Rita took a sip of her tea and then another one, finding the taste a bit addictive. She would have to ask him for the recipe after everything was said and done.
But then the world began to get blurry all of a sudden and Rita couldn’t find her hands. She blinked again and again, trying to find out what was going on. Was she allergic to the tea? She felt a tightness in her chest and remembered that she should be breathing. She tried to do so and it came out as a wheeze or something of the sort.
The man watched with a sick and twisted pleasure. His lips curled into a smile as Rita Skeeter fell to the ground in a crumpled heap of unworthiness. She was the lowest scum of the earth in his eyes.
“This is for my wife.” He said. “You get what you deserve in the end.” He walked out of the room and left Rita to her own despair and death.
Her eyes closed after a fight against death and she gasped for a breath which was not received before shutting down forever. Her quick quotes quill fell to the ground with her and lay as still as she did.