standsonhigh | There's nothing here but what here's mine.

This wasn't, exactly, how he had planned his return. He had expected to be on home turf, a place he understood and wanted to be. Surrounded by worshippers and already plotting. Not here with some strange man using the power he gave specifically to his followers to bring him back. The books of Saxon weren't meant to be public knowledge, they were his private notes, and yet this man decided to drag him into a world he didn't want to be in.

The Master always had a funny feeling that magic wasn't something he should of ever tried to toy with because as it stood, he didn't like where this was going. It defied the logic he knew.

Voldemort was a strange creature, a very unpleasant one at that. He looked sickly and his eyes were red like an albino. Still, he didn't say much on it, he'd looked worse himself and damages were just a sign of ambition and desire. It always took everything out of you, especially with humans.

The drums were raging in his head as he followed Voldemort into this meeting he'd decided to attend. He'd only been back a few days and already he seemed to of captured the imagination of this tiny little creature who was all but eager to introduce him.

An ancient ruler from another reality must of been interesting.

He didn't walk behind Voldemort, he kept in step, not willing to seem a lesser. Hey, the dark lord brought him here. If he was going to play with this merry band of psychopaths, he wanted to seem equal.

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So far it's been useless, huh? Barty didn't say a thing to that, not even touching the statement with a ten-foot pole. The question was just how to diplomatically offer his own services without implying that whatever the Master had tried was probably about as effective as waving his arm around aimlessly. Potentially it had also been literally the same thing.

"Perhaps I can help. I have some experience with ritual magic." He smirked. "I helped getting you here, too. Which is very romantic, if you want to think of it that way."

Oh suggesting he needed help? Funny. Wrong but funny. He didn't need help, he could do it by science alone, he just thought that magic was an interesting thing that could of helped out. Clearly, he couldn't of been more wrong. He barely understood it and he couldn't really do much out of curses that caused pain.

So, when Barty suggested it, while he wanted to shoot him down rather firmly... well, he gauged his odds then reluctantly shrugged. "Maybe you can help. But if we get to a new universe together, I do expect some sort of reward. And flowers. Maybe chocolates, depending on the mood."

"You may have flowers and my nubile body. Can't promise chocolates until I find out how to procure those in a different universe." Which made him realize that he didn't know whether his magic would still be there if they went to another universe, but now he didn't want to risk asking. The Master was definitely already none too happy about the offered help, so Barty decided not to ask too many more questions. Better to bring the good mood back.

"Please don't do it again." Even if it meant giving up on dignity for a while. "The Dementors."

"Fine, I'll bargain with that. But I will expect chocolates one day or another," the Master insisted as he slipped his hands in his pockets not, letting go of his connections to Barty for now. When the request was brought up, the Master quirked an eyebrow but didn't say anything for a while. Just to let Barty think he was considering it.

Truth was, he wouldn't do it again. Not unless Barty pissed him off. "Be a good boy and I won't. Personally I think we've conquered your fears, for now, so we can at least guarantee that won't happen for a long time now."

"As you wish, Master." Barty smirked, right back in the excited and good mood now with that promise. Well, close to promise, anyway. Together with the dream of going somewhere else, leaving this place with all the issues it had brought on for him over the years behind him.

He ran his hands through his hair, not caring if he made it stick up, but he needed to do something and the Master had withdrawn his hands. "I'm going to be a very good boy. By your standards."

"I bet you will," the Master remarked, happy to be away from that room and heading back to his place. He supposed he was lucky he was very close, the hall wasn't far away from the place Voldemort had gotten him and that was the best place to mass kill those Death Eater idiots. "You're usually very good."

As they headed outside, the Master rolled his neck around and took a deep breath of the fresh air, needing it to clear his head a little. Then, he turned his head, looking at Barty with a curious expression. "Are you scared of me, Barty? Just wondering."

"No." The answer came pretty immediate, but then Barty frowned as he tried to think about it, tried to word it right. "I'm scared of how you could destroy me if you wanted to. But I have faith that you won't. So, no. Not really."

He wet his lips with his tongue, looking at the Master thoughtfully. "Would you want me to be scared?" He actually wasn't quite sure of the answer there. He still wasn't sure about his own answer.

The Master looked at Barty for longer than was probably needed but he actually had to debate this one, did he want Barty to be scared of him? Eventually, he shrugged his shoulders and looked ahead, only half sure that he knew the answer to this one. "No, not really. I find trembling idiots hard to deal with."

He could destroy Barty easily but he didn't. Not because of the face and not because he found Barty amazing company, just because he needed someone sometimes. A distraction, a person to keep him company and praise his genius. As far as servants went, he'd gotten one of the best. "You're the perfect balance."

"Between trembling and idiot?" The question was asked dryly, but at least it was preferable to the conceited smile Barty actually felt like sporting. Sarcasm was a good shield at times. This was as close as he expected to get to an honest admittance of what the Master thought of him. Sure, he might say a lot more exaggerated sweet things when he was feeling generous, but this... This felt truthful.

Dementors aside, this day had turned out pretty amazing. "You say the sweetest things, Master."

"You're just safely away from both but not too far," the Master pointed out playfully, very happy with himself as he happily led the way, looking like a boy at Christmas. Today was Barty's last trial and he'd reacted perfectly. Not in a sane way, perhaps, but in the right way. That's how the Master saw it.

And now, he was going to reward Barty. Just because. "Don't I just? Now, Bartemius, what should we do today? I have no plans which means you have no plans so I'll let you pick. You earned it."

There's nothing here but what here's mine.

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