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Under different circumstances he might have scoffed at her self-compliment, especially given how confident he was feeling in this moment, but he liked Evie and telling her to shove her intimidation theories up her tight little arse wasn't going to serve him any good. "That must be it," he said with an attempt at a suave smile, not quote 100% sure there wasn't some truth to that statement. He raised his eyebrows approvingly as her foot rooted around in his lap, getting him ready for what he was positive was a sure thing. The waiter returned with their drinks and Amycus picked his glass up without any recognition to the poor sod who was smiling and looking for a 'thank you' at the least. "To the wild evening ahead," he toasted, tilting his glass towards hers.

Amycus leaned in as she divulged her little secret. He was only mildly surprised by her confession, not because he found the Dark Lord attractive or anything – he wasn’t into blokes – but because he was certain women were attracted to power and there was no one more powerful at the moment than Lord Voldemort. He knew for a fact that power and control was an aphrodisiac because he worked for the Lestranges and saw firsthand how the witches in the office acted whenever Adolph or Rodolphus walked through. Even when Rabastan came for a visit, there was a definite panty dropping effect on the women. Evie either had to be completely off her rocker (why was that thought so fucking hot?) or lying in attempt to flirt. In either case, it was working on Amycus. Talk shifted, as expected, back onto Amy’s achievements and the smug expression on his face grew. “Yes, well,” he wasn’t just going to ignore that the evening had been primarily devoted to praising his efforts, even if it really only had been a small portion of the meeting’s agenda, “I try to generous when the opportunity arises.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her, insinuating a glimpse into her future, when the waiter cleared his throat to gain their attention.

Amy had forgotten all about the waiter with Evie throwing compliments back at him, his ego growing ever powerful. She was a daft witch if she didn’t think power was sexy, he was getting off on his own at the moment and loving every second of it. Amycus looked to the waiter and chastised him. “Patience is a virtue, lad.” The waiter looked to be older than he was, but Amy still spoke to him as if he were a child. “I’ll have a scotch neat.” Rodolphus Lestrange ordered those, he’d observed, so it was obviously Amycus’ new favorite drink. “And the lady will have…” he trailed off, looking to Evie for confirmation. What would she drink? Something fruity? Something feminine with vodka? Witches loved vodka.

At his job with Lestrange Industries, if there was a late night meeting in December, it was generally expected that there would be some booze and other assorted merriment. A cameo by the Lestrange family was a given and that really seemed to be the only thing in common with tonight’s event. A meeting of Death Eaters with the Dark Lord was the exact opposite in nearly every other regard. There was no festive fanfare for the upcoming holiday, and the mood was anything but jolly. Their plans were coming along nicely. Voldemort had equal praise for every criticism, and he seemed pleased with the work Amycus had been doing. That was a nice little ego-boost for the chap.

The meeting having ended and their presence no longer required, nor recommended by all accounts, the majority of his fellow Death Eaters began to depart. Amy followed a slender figure toward the front door, admiring the way her robes hung over her hips and rather quite curious as to how she looked out of those robes altogether. He’d flirted with Evie Nott plenty of times before, but the confidence of having his work noted favorably by Lord Voldemort in front of his many followers gave Amycus a little push to go further. Footsteps quickened and he reached the front door just before her, blocking it with his broad figure. “You want to get a drink with me.” It wasn’t a question, nor a demand. Simply a statement he was about 90% sure was correct.

Amycus was still feeling some of the affects from the big night the evening prior. Although today was his actual birthday, his mates had decided to celebrate a day early on Saturday, opting to not get completely pissed on a work night. It was strange how priorities were shifted, even if by force, as one aged. He was only 22 but already having to rearrange his plans to account for his regular 9-5 job. At least he had had a good time, the lingering light-headedness of a fading hangover was proof enough of that. He had invited a few blokes from work, though none of them came, and a few more from the Death Eaters which had a similar attendance rate. No matter, his best mates had been present and he could make a good impression on the Lestrange brothers some other way. He really rather liked them both, not just for their connections and wealth, though that was a large part of why he seemed to admire them. He would have loved to brag to his parents about having Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange among his friends at the pub last night when his family came over later for a little more subdued birthday tea to celebrate his and Alecto's birthdays.

Michael’s and Pandora’s visit was still a few hours off, but his sister Alecto had mentioned possibly coming by early for their own celebration. She still lived with their parents, only a few minutes away by broom in the same village, but the siblings had a bond like no other. It extended farther than sharing a birthday, they shared nearly everything of themselves with each other. He couldn’t move too far away from her, even if she did spend the majority of the year in Scotland at school. Looking into the mirror of his en suite bathroom, Amycus inspected his reflection. Picking at a red mark on his chin only seemed to make it angrier. Hopefully it would settle down soon enough if he left it alone, so he busied himself with sucking on his teeth and fishing out a little piece of something that had lodged itself next to his canine. Washing his hands and drying them on his trousers, Amy ran his still damp hand through his hair as he turned and headed out of the bathroom and strolled casually into the lounge, passing through his bedroom as he did so.