Chuck: So, what about your favorite color, then? It’s a nice starter question.
Dieter: No. How much do you expect to learn about a person from their color preferences, exactly? Purple. Dark purple. A wine purple.
Chuck: It’s not supposed to help me [i]learn[/i] about you. it’s supposed to help me to not think you’re going to murder me in my sleep. You’re supposed to ask a question. Or was that your question?
Dieter: That wasn’t my question. I’m not going to kill you. What color would tell you if I was going to, exactly? -smirk- No, my question is... are you really this hopelessly shallow?
Chuck: What? That’s not a shallow question. It’s a starter question. It gives me an idea, and gives me a bit of time. If you want a meaningful question, then tell me what the hell you hope to gain by bringing us here?
Dieter: Yes, it is. It hopes to get information out of a superficial detail, such as my favorite color. What does purple say? That I’m a masochist? -leans back in his hair- I think anyone in my position ought to consider it a moral obligation. I had information about where the snatchers were going to look and I had a place to conceal the people they were hunting. There is nothing to gain.
Chuck: A ‘moral obligation’? Please, are you attempting to tell me you think you have a soul, or something of the sort, that you can save by rescuing the kids? -clearly doesn’t believe it for a moment-
Dieter: Shut up, it’s my turn. -shifts uncomfortably- I take it you believe in all this... souls and saviours nonsense. Religious?
Chuck: My parents were southern baptists. I can’t say I believe in the bible like they do, because it’s filled with nonsense about how I should be burnt at the stake, or stoned to death and all that, but the basics are sound. So, yes. Souls yes, saviors maybe. Are you saying you don’t believe? -deathglare-
Dieter: I believe in rational thought. I don’t believe in a man on a cloud, or a woman on a cloud, come to think of it. On that note... my turn again. Women? Are you married?
Chuck: Does it look like I’m married? No. I dated, it never went anywhere. If I was married, she’d be with me, obviously. Are you?
Dieter: She might have died, or left you. No, I’m unmarried. I don’t believe in that, either. -takes another drink-
Chuck: In what, Marriage? ...You sound like some bleeding heart liberal. -takes another drink-
Dieter: Not even remotely. I don’t believe in relationships. They don’t work, not naturally, anyhow. Everybody has this... insistence... that it’s ordinary to argue in a relationship. That makes no sense. There’s simply no such thing as a good relationship. The same question to you, I suppose... not that you really asked. Where do you fall, politically?
Chuck: Politically? I’ve stayed off of politics - especially wizarding ones. They’re all stupid, every single one of them. They’re all bickering over questions that should have been resolved years ago, and ignoring the real issues.
Dieter: Which are?
Chuck: That wasn’t supposed to count as a question. It’s still my turn. Do you live alone, or should I be expecting to run into a sibling or two?
Dieter: Quite alone. Only child. My parents are of the other side of the argument when it comes to muggleborns. They don’t know my stance, of course, but I know theirs; That’s enough to keep distance between us. How about you? Family; Siblings?
Chuck:  Two siblings, neither of which I’ve seen in years. My parents are the other-other side of this argument - if their friends had found out what I was, I’d have been burnt at the stake, and my own parents were close enough to that themselves. What about your parents, then? Snatchers? Something else, equally unappealing?
Dieter: They don’t [i]do[/i] anything. We’re rich. I don’t know if you noticed. -refills his glass- We own stocks. I take it yours are tudor witch hunters, so I won’t ask... alright, why are [i]you[/i] helping these kids?
Chuck: What sort of question is that? It’s the right thing to do. The first one was in the hospital with dragon pox, and then the death eaters started coming. If I had just left him, he’d be dead or in Azkaban right now, so I took him with me. I couldn’t just [i]ignore[/i] him. If you’re so good, why is it just us, and not a whole pack of runaways, then?
Dieter: Well, you asked [i]me[/i]. The fact is, I’m not a death eater. I don’t know where the snatchers are going to be looking any more then you do, or where there are runners. I heard one snippet of foolish conversation and decided to act. Once.
Chuck: Of course I asked you. You’re a pureblood who randomly decided to save a bunch of muggleborns. It’s suspicious, and if there was any other option, I wouldn’t be having this conversation with you. I’d be somewhere else. -grimaces and takes another drink-
Dieter: Do I detect a note of prejudice?
Chuck: Of course you do. I left America to avoid this sort of fanaticism and bigotry, and now I’ve run smack into it [i]again[/i]. if I wasn’t against purebloods, I’d just be stupid, not learning from my mistakes. No pureblood has ever helped me with anything. Are you trying to claim you aren’t prejudiced at all?
Dieter: Yes, they have. Yes, of course I’m prejudiced. Every human is. I simply don’t direct that at groups who don’t deserve it.
Chuck: Then who [i]do[/i] you project it at?
Dieter: People whose heads are ruled too much by prejudice themselves. -drinks daintily- Pureblood supremacists, for example. I hope you don’t disagree.
Dieter: Some vintage whiskey. I don’t know. I can’t tell one alcohol from another; all I know is everything in my cellar is disturbingly expensive. Why?
Chuck: I was curious. For all your talk of shallow questions, you can tell a lot about a person’s habits from the sort o fthing they drink.
Dieter: what’s so interesting about people? You have such curiosity.
Chuck: I’m not interested in people. I’m interested in [i]you[/i]. For all your claims, I’m still entirely sure you’re up to something, and I’m not going to let you sneak it by me. What reason would I possibly have to trust you?
Dieter: The fact that I’m offering to [i]help[/i]. Regardless, the only reason you have [i]not[/i] to trust me is your own silly prejudice. Coming from a home like yours, what makes you so convinced that I’m a direct product of [i]my[/i] home environment?
Chuck: Because I escaped from it. I’m half a world away from my parents, I’m not going to dinner parties at their church and casually chatting up people who would murder me in my sleep if they knew what I was, the way you are. Why are you any different?
Dieter: I don’t know [i]why[/i] I’m different. I only know that I am. What difference does it make, anyway? I’m not a Death Eater, or a supporter, and that’s that. If you can’t trust me immediately, then I probably can’t convince you. Only time can.
Chuck: Maybe it will. Maybe it won’t. -takes another sip- ...I have to know, what do you [i]do[/i] with all that time if you don’t work?
Dieter: It should. I’m a good man. -pause- I’m an artist.
Chuck: An artist? ...What kind of art?
Dieter: Fine art. -nods towards landscape- How about you? Hobbies?
Chuck: -turns to look- Did you paint that?
Dieter: Yes, I did; When I was seventeen.  My more recent works are more accomplished. -pause- Do you need more veritaserum?
Chuck: -frowns- ...No. What was the question?
Dieter: I wanted to know if you had any hobbies.
Chuck: I have a job. I don’t have time for most hobbies. I like music, though, when I’m not working. ...I supposed that’s ‘had a job’, obviously.
Dieter: And what was that job?
Chuck: Healer. I worked at Saint Mungos. Spell damage was my last department.
Dieter: Interesting. I wouldn’t have had you down as a healer. Too... fiery.
Chuck: ...I can’t tell if that’s supposed to be an insult. I’ve always been a healer. Always. -glares- Some of us have [i]real[/i] jobs.
Dieter: If I wanted to insult you, you’d know about it. I suppose you’re trying to insist that my work is ‘not a real job’. I’d like to see you try it.
Chuck: Painting is not a real job. It’s a hobby, no matter how good ayou are at it. -pause- Or bad you are at it.
Dieter: Is that so? You wouldn’t call it a refinement of marketable and useful skills, combining to provide a service one can be paid for?
Chuck: ….A what?
Dieter: I define a job as an occupation in which you are paid to fulfil a role with increasing success as you refine your abilities. That describes my art as much as it would your healing.
Chuck: -long pause- I suppose if you use that definition, it is.
Dieter: Yes, it is. -sits back- I have completed several portrait commissions in order to rack up some money my parents need not know about. I knew I’d need it someday and now I do. Would you say you’re opinionated, Chuck?
Chuck: I would say everyone is opinionated. It would depend on how you [i]defined[/i] it.
Dieter: Alright, then; Are you [i]forceful with your opinions[/i]?
Chuck: ...I try not to force them on others, no.
Dieter: But you certainly think about things. You had strong opinions about me the moment you met me.
Chuck: ...I have strong opinions about anyone who I discover is pureblood, or who I think is pureblood, so in that aspect, yes.
Dieter: Do you really consider that fair?
Chuck: Do you consider me getting passed up for head of floor for someone less qualified, who happened to be a pureblood with connections [i]fair[/i]?
Dieter: No. Have you considered that your treatment of me is exactly the same, reversed?
Chuck: There’s a difference. The difference is that if [i]I[i] dislike you, all you get is disliked. If you dislike me, I end up in Azkaban.
Dieter: Because unnecessary dislike is extremely pleasant.
Chuck: It’s not, but I can’t exactly go around trusting the very same people who are going to throw me in jail, can I? It was your veriserum. You could have faked yours.
Dieter: -angrily- [i]I[/i] am not one of them.
Chuck: But your friends and your family are, and could step in at any moment, and then what would you say?
Dieter: I’d say stay in your rooms while they visit and there won’t be a damned problem. -finishes his drink- I am working on safety.
Chuck: Oh? And what’s going to happen to me and the kids, then? Stay in our rooms until you ‘figure it out’?
Dieter: Rather on the snatchers’ doorsteps then in their line of sight - or so I thought. You know you have the run of the plae while I’m working on it.
Chuck: Oh? and nothing is off limits?
Dieter: Only my studio. No one is, or has ever been permitted to enter my studio.
Chuck: -frowns- Well, I’m sure I’ll just enjoy being your captive, even if it does mean I’m not going to Azkaban. -sarcasm-
Dieter: -sits back- I think this conversation is over.
Chuck: -sits back- I’m sure it is. Do I have [i]permission[/i] to go back to my room, then?
Dieter: Be my guest. -annoyed-