Brett had been officially done for the long, boring day. Auror training was not nearly as glamorous as she had expected it to be, but the end result was definitely going to make it worth while. Just as she was about to head out the door, she had been... detained. First by a rope-like charm pulling her way from the entrance, and then by Auror Pratt's simple statement- "You've got paperwork to do, Abraham."

... That had been six or seven hours ago. It was now one in the morning and the stack of paperwork that Pratt had directed her to was still larger than she would have liked.

But there was a rush to finish things up since the month had changed over, and even though Brett had been doing paperwork of her own all day, she should have been smart enough to realize she'd be roped into doing someone else's. On the bright side, at least it had been Pratt who had detained her instead of someone like Bailey or Harcroft. (Of course, Brett had a feeling that Harcroft always had his paperwork done on time and that it was always pristine.)

She squinted at the page in hand, turned it to the left and then to the right. Whoever had filled this page out had chicken scratch for writing and she could barely make out what it said. Brett dropped the paper to the desk, put her head in her hands, breathing out slowly. She was exhausted. And judging from the forms she was filling out (or re-writing) she had a feeling Pratt had been saving up the paperwork on purpose- just for the trainees.

"Really Pratt, didn't your mum ever teach you penmanship?" she asked. "I've spent half the night deciphering your letters. Be done by now if you could write like a human instead of a hippogriff with a quill in its beak."

“It’s Auror Pratt to you, Abraham.” Edward Pratt stated with an air of disinterest as he once more put inked quill to parchment and scrawled his signature beneath a long, 32 inch report on an arrest he had made during a night shift last week. It had taken him a while to flesh out this report, it being something he didn’t much fancy reliving and putting down on parchment. A 23 year old wizard had almost escaped arrest by hexing Eddie and leaving him vulnerable in the hands of his sexy French witch. He didn’t like being injured and especially not by troublesome youths. This was why the report had been left until the last minute and reluctantly finished.

The quill was placed on the desk and Eddie smoothed out the edges of the parchment covered in his perfectly legible, perfectly human scrawl.

“Ye’d be a darn sight faster if yer mum had taught ye to read properly, lass.” He finally countered after several minutes of silence had passed. Pratt really was rather convinced he was surrounded by illiterate trolls the amount each of his colleagues and the trainees mentioned his handwriting It was very possible the blond haired auror wrote a certain way just to keep up with the reputation he had seemingly gained. After all, Eddie rather hoped that if the colleagues on his case couldn’t read his writing, they would do the reports themselves to save themselves eye strain. It was a win-win situation as far as Edward was concerned.

Tarelin rubbed his eye with the tip of his index finger, trying desperately to keep sleep from creeping up on him. A quill in one hand, the soon-to-be Auror used his other hand to prop up his head as he filled out the seemingly never-ending stack of forms and files. He was due to become a fully fledged Auror later this month, and Tarelin needed to be sure that all his reports were in order before the week was out. Most of the pile which cluttered the edges of his workspace were forms the trainee was rewriting, keen to score good points on his presentation, but just under a third were still first drafts, and half of those weren’t even that!

He reread the next question on the form: ‘Known information on the assailant's wand’. Pushing the parchment to one side, he took an overstuffed folder from his desk drawer and began to leaf through it, pulling sheets from their cardboard home and throwing them in a less-than-tidy pile in the centre of his desk. He could have sworn he’d written it down somewhere, and when he couldn’t find it he began to work in reverse, checking each sheet a second time before returning it to the folder, then throwing it on top of a stack of half-finished forms in frustration.

Although Tarelin felt sure he had gathered all the paperwork he needed when he had begun - frankly, he was surprised he had made it this far - the trainee resolved himself to the fact that he would need to make a return journey to the wall of metal filing cabinets that sat at the back of the Auror office. First, however, Tarelin needed a fresh cup of coffee. Returning the folder to his desk drawer, being sure to lock it with a wave of his wand (the last thing he needed was for the notes to fall victim to one of his colleague's classic office pranks), Tarelin picked up his mug from its resting place atop scrap notes and headed for the kettle.

As he passed by Auror Pratt's desk, he glanced across to see him and trainee Abraham hard at work. Tarelin hadn't gotten much of a chance to speak with any of the new trainees, having been focused on getting his own work completed on time. However, he thought to himself, that didn't mean he couldn't be friendly. Pausing for a moment, he turned to face the two of them. "Either of you want a coffee?" He held up his own mug, shaking it a little as if to indicate that he was making himself one, so if they needed one they should speak up now.

Brett rolled her eyes. "Auror Pratt," she repeated, copying over a few more lines onto an official report for the older auror. Really, if she didn't find Eddie to be so devilishly handsome she might be inclined to have a little more to say on the matter.

... But when he brought her mother into the mix, that didn't matter anymore. "My mother is a brilliant lady," she stated firmly. Brett would have countered that perhaps his mum should have taught him how to write properly, but she knew what had happened with his parents- and didn't want to say something that she would regret or which would be overly sensitive. "Maybe how fast I work wouldn't matter if you did your own paperwork, hm?"

Brett was surprised when Faust stopped by Pratt's desk, and even more surprised when he offered to fetch both of them coffee. Brett had made so much coffee in the last month she had nearly memorized every auror's preferences, and even the older trainees had used her as a gopher on a regular basis. She was lower down on the food chain, Brett could deal with that, but the random act of kindness almost made it worth it. "None for me, thanks," Brett said. "Still working off of endless, teenage energy. Auror Pratt might need some, though. Bit past his prime these days."

Berkeley wiped a cloth over the surface of her desk, the area so clean it practically shined. She corrected the placement of her quill holder for the umpteenth time (though each time it was hardly out of place to begin with) with a curt nod she confirmed that her desk was in pristine condition, ready for the next day of hard work. She pushed back in her chair and got to her feet, straightening the wrinkle out of her classic looking pencil skirt. She turned from her desk grabbing a shawl off the corner of her cubicle, ready to head home for the night.

As she weaved though the other cubicles, some empty others occupied by Aurors eager to get the last amount of month end reports finished she simply shook her head. They never learned. She was almost all the way out when she came across Pratt, Faust and Abraham. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on. She knew that Faust had been having a few late nights finishing his paperwork, getting it all in order for his upcoming review that would mark the end of his training and bring him up to full Auror status. Pratt as well was well known for having stacks of paperwork that he scratched through until his co-workers decided it was better to do the reports themselves. Berkeley was no stranger to filling out forms for the older Auror. Abraham on the other hand, as a fresh out of Hogwarts trainee, should not have had anywhere near the amount of paperwork that was currently sitting on her desk. Which meant that she was being forced to finish someone else's work.

Berkeley breathed out a soft sigh and pulled her shawl off, throwing it onto the nearest cubicle corner. She made her way over to the young trainees desk, "When will they learn?" She asked in Abraham's general direction without actually addressing the other woman, "Paperwork is not something you can just throw on the newbies, it never gets done right that way." Berkeley spoke without the slightest hint of being aware of how insulting her words may have been to the poor seventeen year old who had just spent the better part of four hours rewriting someone else work.

The petite doll of an Auror leaned over and scooped up a good chunk of what was left of Abraham's work. She pulled out the chair of the nearest desk (the one opposite Brett) and plopped the reports down. She removed a quill from her purse and set to work, "Faust, if you could?" She asked indicating that the younger trainee could grab her a cup while he was making offers.

“I’ll take one, Faust.” Pratt told the trainee as the younger wizard waved his mug. Did he think that only offering when he wanted to fill up was acceptable? He’d obviously forgotten his first year or so of training. But Ed’s attention wasn’t on Faust now; it was on the young witch that still didn’t seem to have gained a decent comprehension of the word respect.

Brett Abraham was an auror trainee. By being that she was at the bottom of the pile in the Department of Law Enforcement. Under the hitwizards but on the level above the criminals. On a par with the warty old lady that cleaned the office every night. The department, working on a strict hierarchy demanded respect towards superiors. That meant you addressed them correctly and you spoke to them as a superior and not as your best friend. Especially if you have only been in the office for a mere couple of months and still suffered from the occasional teenage acne.

As Eddie was about to inform Brett that she was in no position to judge his ‘prime’, another young auror marched over, informed Brett that it was daft to make the trainees do paperwork and sat herself down at the desk Ed had summoned next to his small cubicle. The wizard stared for a moment, not quite believing what he was seeing.

The quill was put down on the desk and Eddie stood up, stepping up to the desk where the trainee that thought respect was a game and the auror that wanted to undermine his instructions sat.

“I’m sure you’ve got your own paperwork to be doin’, Cavanaugh. Trainees will never learn if you baby them.” A heavy hand was dropped onto Abraham’s shoulder and gave it a tight squeeze. “A word, Abraham.” He stepped away and around the corner where he waited for this particularly mouthy trainee. Archer had already had to remind her of her place before.

Brett looked from Cavanugh to Pratt, unsure of what she say or do. Pratt had experience on Cavanaugh, and Brett assumed for that reason he probably was the one she ought to listen to. But the sight of the stack of paperwork having been suddenly reduced, and the young woman seeming to sympathize was hard to ignore. No doubt Cavanaugh remembered what it was like to be in Brett's shoes. But then again, Berkeley did seem to be insinuating that she couldn't do the paperwork right...

She was going to tell the blonde woman she was perfectly capable of managing paperwork when she felt a hand on her shoulder. "A word, Abraham." That wasn't good. Brett sighed quietly and stood up, following Pratt around the corner. She couldn't even manage to do paperwork without getting herself into trouble, it seemed.

Brett stood in front of Edward Pratt with her arms carefully folded behind her back, looking him in the eye. She didn't want the older aurors in the office to think that she was easily intimidated- because she wasn't, and she didn't like the way they all seemed to assume she was always up to no good. Even so, mouthing off now would be a terrible idea. "Sir?" she questioned simply, keeping her jaw clenched tight to prevent any untoward remarks.

"None for me, thanks. Still working off of endless, teenage energy. Auror Pratt might need some, though. Bit past his prime these days."

Chuckling at Abraham's reply, Tarelin gave Auror Pratt a sideways glance. "He'll sap it from you sooner or later. Auror Pratt doesn't much like the written part of our job." Fortunately, Tarelin hadn't been placed under Eddie's wing when he had begun his training, but he remembered how much of his own paperwork the man had piled on those who were. Auror Malone - his own supervisor - had been more lenient when it came to the workload, but that didn't mean she's been a pushover. Tarelin appreciated this; trainees needed to see how tough the job was.

It was then that Auror Cavanaugh appeared, requesting a mug of coffee for herself. This was quickly followed by Auror Pratt putting in an order, and with a polite nod to them both, Tarelin crossed to the coffee pot and poured out three mugs. He'd say one thing for the training here - it really drilled in how many sugars your colleagues took. Taking a tray from by the side of the coffee station and putting the mugs on top, he carried them over to where the small gathering was taking place.

Auror Pratt had taken his ward to one side, and Tarelin handed over Berkeley's mug to her, setting Eddie's down on his desk and picking up his own. Turning to Auror Cavanaugh, he took a sip from his drink before speaking. "Looks like Auror Pratt's keeping Abraham busy... D'you think he's keeping her this late for fun or do they really has a lot to catch up on?"

"Nor will they learn well enough if they're pushed into doing someone else's work." Berkeley didn't meet the older Auror's eye, simply keeping them on the page she was currently rewriting, "And no, I have no paperwork. Mine's already finished." She spoke in her usual cold demeanour. She had already worked with Pratt for six years, not to mention her own three years of training. She was used to other Auror's not approving of her curt manner and quiet frankly had stopped caring long ago, she was here to do a job not make friends.

She lifted her eyes briefly to watch Pratt pull Abraham aside. She almost felt sorry for the girl, Pratt was a force to be reckoned with in his own right. If he and Radley together weren't enough to straighten the girl out, she was likely to wash out before she hit her three year mark.

She turned back to the extra paperwork she had taken from Abraham's desk just as Faust returned with her coffee. She gave him a gentle nod of thanks, before taking a sip. Having worked on the MacDuff case together they had the closest Berkeley had ever come to a bond and so she didn't mind as he switched over to 'shop talk'. Usually she would have politely excused herself and brought her paperwork back to her own desk - in fact given the warpath Pratt was currently on going back to her own desk might not be such a bad idea.

"No, this paperwork isn't all theirs." She looked down at the report she was currently rewriting, "Pratt seems to think this is a good way to keep the girl in line. Perhaps he's right. However with a load like this they'll be here all night and the girl will either sleep in and miss her next training session or show up so tired she'll become a liability."