Richard had begun his customary pacing now.
"It might be dangerous, yes. It would be worth it for the information we could get. But not with an interview..." He trailed off as he wandered over to where the painting Cae was doing of him sat in a corner. It was facing the wall, and he turned it over, curious as to where she had gotten. There was some paint on the canvas now, she had started on his face. It wasn't quite Richard, he saw. It had some gleam of him in its eyes, but there was something off. Maybe it was because it was standing still.
"Er," Richard continued, after his distraction. He had stopped his pacing to look at himself, "I think you're probably right, aurors will have talked him half to death. Even if they didn't, it's not like he'd tell us anything. It sounds to me like this is a rehabilitation facility, he probably has personal effects. If you want to know what kind of magic a guy's into, look at the books he owns. Check for anything about paintings," he glanced at the paint Richard. It had moved, but not much. Just closing one eye in a charming wink. Richard continued distractedly as he gazed intently at his own image on canvas, "Maybe... vanishing and... biologic..." Had the face changed, or did Richard's memory fail him? He lost track of his own faces so much he couldn't be sure, but Painting Richard looked like he might have shifted his features, like real Richard did when talking to pretty girls.
Richard shook himself and walked back around the painting, making a mental note to check on this promising development later. "Clowers is a Dark Arts expert, right? I'll do some research into him, I can probably find a thing or two, if he writes notable texts. See where his normal expertise lies. Any particularly advanced Transfiguration or Charms could be suspicious.
"Okay!" Richard clapped his hands together excitedly. "I think we have a game plan. Research! Magical medical facilities in Vancouver, and Jack Clowers' public academic life." He looked at his two best friends, and caught his own reflection in a shining astronomy instrument. They were all three disheveled and tired. It had been a strangely long night. "Does anyone else need to sleep for a week?"
"It might be dangerous, yes. It would be worth it for the information we could get. But not with an interview..." He trailed off as he wandered over to where the painting Cae was doing of him sat in a corner. It was facing the wall, and he turned it over, curious as to where she had gotten. There was some paint on the canvas now, she had started on his face. It wasn't quite Richard, he saw. It had some gleam of him in its eyes, but there was something off. Maybe it was because it was standing still.
"Er," Richard continued, after his distraction. He had stopped his pacing to look at himself, "I think you're probably right, aurors will have talked him half to death. Even if they didn't, it's not like he'd tell us anything. It sounds to me like this is a rehabilitation facility, he probably has personal effects. If you want to know what kind of magic a guy's into, look at the books he owns. Check for anything about paintings," he glanced at the paint Richard. It had moved, but not much. Just closing one eye in a charming wink. Richard continued distractedly as he gazed intently at his own image on canvas, "Maybe... vanishing and... biologic..." Had the face changed, or did Richard's memory fail him? He lost track of his own faces so much he couldn't be sure, but Painting Richard looked like he might have shifted his features, like real Richard did when talking to pretty girls.
Richard shook himself and walked back around the painting, making a mental note to check on this promising development later. "Clowers is a Dark Arts expert, right? I'll do some research into him, I can probably find a thing or two, if he writes notable texts. See where his normal expertise lies. Any particularly advanced Transfiguration or Charms could be suspicious.
"Okay!" Richard clapped his hands together excitedly. "I think we have a game plan. Research! Magical medical facilities in Vancouver, and Jack Clowers' public academic life." He looked at his two best friends, and caught his own reflection in a shining astronomy instrument. They were all three disheveled and tired. It had been a strangely long night. "Does anyone else need to sleep for a week?"