"Kind of like tattoos...except deadlier..."

"It was before the age of television. They had to make their fun somehow. Though if you do find any, call me. I take on side projects all the time. Curse-breaking is difficult but once you crack one, it's hard to want to stop."

"Luckily I didn't run off with any heirlooms. Wouldn't put it past either of my grandma's to have cursed some shit in very weird and potentially horrifying ways..."

She laughs a bit at the idea, "Well, I'm grateful there are some if only because it keeps me in business, but there's a very low chance your regular pan will hunger for human blood. You really have to watch out for the hand-me-downs. The family heirlooms. Unless of course your grandmother was insane, in to which case, double check before you use the family pan."

"Cursed cookware would also make for an awesome band name," Greyson notes with a grin, "But yet, quite understandable. Though unfortunate some of it is still hiding around now. Makes for a bad day when you go to make brownies and the pan eats your face."

"Well most of them couldn't have jobs and couldn't leave the house unless a man was around. No surprised they a few of them went barmy and decided to curse the cookware."

"Yeah that definitely sounds like something they would do. Crazy old ladies," Greyson can't help but laugh despite how gross a vision it is.

"It was a big fad in the Victorian age. A lot of gossipy old lady types really, they would invite their enemies around for tea and then, you know opps, so sorry Glenda, seems as though your hand is missing!"

"Hand eating cup crabs...certainly a clever move if not entirely unhinged..." Greyson muses.

She gives him a brief if slightly sharp smile, "I wouldn't mind that actually but truth is that it might just be a offset of my own trauma mixing with my occupation again. Being a curse-breaker means having to be a little bit more than paranoid. I mean, the amount of tea cups I've seen been cursed to turn into hand eating cup-crabs is actually absurd."

"Believe me, I do that regularly. Being a single parent with trauma has in benefits in some cases," he assures, offering an attempt at a smile. "We really went from coffee and snacks to some dreary shit. Feels like we should have done a shot or two before talking."

Charlotte wants to believe that, forces herself to nightly but there will always be a whisper of darker thoughts in her head. In the back of her mind, because that's what she had all thought once upon a time. That the worse thing had already happened and she had survived...only for it to happen all over again in the blink of an eye. "She's safe with you is the important part, but just in case...it would do no harm in updating any wards you have around the home. Or if something were to happen, she knows what do in an emergency."

"Very true. I have serious doubts the Americans will step in. Or impose anything forcing anyone to do so. I just hate that my daughter worries at all. It's so far away and it's not her war, never will be, but she's a soft girl. Always worried over others when she shouldn't be. Ah well. These are all worries for another day. We're safe here and that's really what matters."

Charlotte frowns. There mere idea of it all making her uneasy. "If it's any consultation, I don't think it will happen. American embassies might be trying to garner help but I think it will mostly fall on deaf ears. American magical society didn't lift a finger last time, and the most their guilt about that has fueled has been the help of hiding those who are leaving...but that's it. As it stands, America doesn't have the same issue as England does with their pure-blood issues. I'm not sure there are any big families left with that ideology here...number wise, its a losing game for the dark lord to bother until he takes more of Europe. Which I admit is a fear, but-" She shrugs, "I don't know any more. Last time was new. Bigger. This time it feels like it's worse in the sense that it just won't be over with already. Desperate. Going out to games and schools to attack children? What sort of moves are those? Weak ones."

"Honestly, I think she knows a lot more than she lets on. Like she knows it was traumatic and that's why she doesn't ask or dig. She knows a little bit of the war going on through her own classmates as well. It's all just so ugly...and I don't want her to live in fear of it all the way I grew up having to. Especially with new talks of trying to drag Americans into it all. They can take her over my rotting corpse."

Charlotte nods, "That's a good answer. I feel like it's always going to get messier when you try and double down on secrets. I get the draw for leaving it all behind or trying to do your best...but well, the past rarely stays where you want it to. Even this far away from it all, I still hear reports of what is happening there and it's just a reminder."

"No. I've told her enough. But given the name change and different country, she'd have a difficult time finding them even if she cared to. If she asks though...well I'll be honest. She's old enough to know the truth if she really wants it."

"And her?" She questions softly back, "I don't judge you for not sharing the gritty details, I would do the same in your position...but do you think she'll never seek out...more?" She puts weight on the word more; more about him, more about where he comes from or even about her family in general. It seemed like slope prone to mess and falls.

"No, no they have not. And until they do I figure I'll just keep quiet. Mostly because I'm banking on them never doing that." It's a dark history, and an ugly present with his family. He's thankful that they hate him. That they'll never seek him out. It's pretty much the only good thing about them.

"Can't say I blame you. Hallmark hasn't come out with a line of cards for that yet, have they." Charlotte replied, lightly. It was a hardship she didn't envy. Having to explain her history, was one thing, to share it was another. Even early on, before everything went to shit, she had never planned on children. Doubled down on it when she married Felix, after all it would mean exposing him to it should their child be magically inclined. She had seen too many muggle-witch marriages dissolve because of such things. In the aftermath...well, she doesn't regret not having any, she doesn't think she would be able to handle grief atop of motherhood.

"My daughter's pretty crafty, she might be able to put something together for you. Not the pins though. I've not shared that interesting tidbit about our family back home."

"Oh that's right. So quickly I've forgotten. I really must update my resume. Better yet, a t-shirt with in printed in big shiny letters."

"Yeah but you're not a stranger are you? You're the snack goddess, so it's different," Greyson assures with a warm smile.

"Hey. I'm still here, aren't I? I mean, mostly for the coffee, but you make it so well I shouldn't be judged for that fact."

"Truthfully I might be weary of the stranger who sticks around..." Greyson muses, "Might be inviting in more strange than I'm prepared to take on."

"Good ice breakers if nothing else." Though she isn't sure how many people would want to stick around after they explained. "Though admittedly it is a bit much to throw on a poor innocent stranger."

"Not a bad idea. We could wear them out and about, I bet they'll be an interesting way to meet people," he agrees, echoing her laughter.

"Perks to being free." She laughs, "We should start a club, get little pins that says, the inbreeding stops with me."

"You'd think. But somehow it's a point of pride...hell that's why I dropped the last name. Not something I'm super keen on being associated with. Fucking weirdo's."

"Exactly. In the most literal sense too. I mean, the fact there's already a deep issue of in-breeding should probably be a big neon sign to them that their society is fucked up."

"We always have really cool brooms." Greyson sorts. "It's at least a little better out here. They seem to be trying anyway, which is more than can be said for over the pond. Bloody exhausting they are."

"Is that always the case?" She laughs a little, the idea of the ministry being anything less than useless was amusing. "It's the ministry. The school. The people in general. I didn't think much of it when I was apart of it, but...it's not a modern society. They're more than backwards, they're stuck. In their fear as much as anything else. It's only going to get worse. Modern muggles are so much more advance. They've gone to the moon at this point. What have the wizards done in that regard but hide?"

"Doesn't sound cold to me," he admits, "There's nothing over there I believe in enough to die for, or to risk my daughter for. So I get it. Frankly, the ministry over there is at fault. It should be them fighting this war. But they're too up their asses to admit fault."

She nods, refusing to allow her thoughts to drift too far into dark waters. "Might sounds a little cold to say, but I don't think I'll ever go back. Even if it all ends tomorrow."