A small frown formed on his face as Moira claimed he didn't need to be sorry. Not because it wasn't the sort of response he had hoped for, but because he had to surely look even worse than his fears had assumed if she was prepared to give in that easily. Whilst it was no question that Rabastan always in a way won any fights between them, they were rarely over with so little shouting. Still, he was not about to complain, for he suspected shouting was a little beyond him at that point, and his only response was to nod ever so slowly, that she would try and devise some means for him to make up for tonight going without saying. At times Rabastan had wondered where Moira had picked up such a streak, where he was inadvertently supposedly made to pay for his many crimes, though Moira was not nearly evil enough to invent punishments Rabastan would actually find punishing.

Watching as she stood up Rabastan expected excuses for why he should wait it out in St. Mungo's, however none came, and instead he found himself faced with a series of questions regarding the part of the plan he had not really considered. After all, it wasn't like he escaped from hospitals on a daily basis, and whilst he was a tad more clued up than his wife on the ways and means of how to perhaps attempt it he was hardly a font of knowledge.

"I've never done this sort of thing so try not to get impatient."

Dark eyes rolled slightly, though Rabastan didn't attempt to protest and claim that he never got impatient, for truth was he did and he knew it. He did however know there was a time and a place for impatience, and this really wasn't it. A glance at his forearm confirmed that they did indeed have time enough to ensure their plan was not doomed to fail through their own inability to take time to work out details. After all, it was unlikely they would be disturbed at all at their present hour. Shifting, his expression pure grimace, Rabastan moved into something of a sitting position, gesturing weakly to the table that stood at the end of his bed. Wincing somewhat as Moira set about moving the table Rabastan cast around for his wand, sure it had to have been left somewhere nearby though that could have been anywhere considering he had no idea what the St. Mungo's staff had done with his stuff.

The pain finally eased and Rabastan became more aware of the fact the room was far chillier with his bare skin exposed. Still, he didn't dwell and instead took a sip of water from the goblet on the table, the parchment and quill which had been left with it no use in terms of identifying what was wrong with him as it was utterly blank though it definitely wasn't useless altogether. Loading the quill he scrawled a few lines to his mother, the whole thing taking far more out of him than he was sure it should have, before he rolled the parchment up and passed it to Moira for her to seal with a charm, "We need to owl that as soon as possible, don't worry, I have told her it is for a consultation on something minor only, she shouldn't try and get involved." It was perhaps the one drawback of his mother actually liking him; she had a tendency to want to act like a proper mother at the most inconvenient of times. Still, she was the fastest means of finding a healer, and Rabastan doubted it would be remotely wise to opt for anything other than the fastest means possible.

"We also need to get eighty galleons to a man named Louis Yaxley," He didn't meet his wife's gaze as he said this, well aware that eighty galleons was the best part of two months salary for him, "I'd suggest owling him and requesting a meeting somewhere relatively public, I don't particularly care for the idea of you venturing within ten miles of the Manticore." He didn't particularly care for her venturing within ten miles of Yaxley for that matter, however he didn't trust the man as far as he could spit and that meant he needed to keep up his end of the bargain as soon as possible and hope that money really did talk. Rabastan had contemplated, for a moment, sending her to Dolohov instead, if only because the other man was marginally less creepy, but eighty galleons was far too great a sum to entrust to someone based on rumour and hearsay alone.

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