Azize had had a long day. What was usually an easygoing, quick, and sometimes troubleshooting day, had become long, slow, and dragged out. He had felt stuffy and little a lightheaded, and it felt like it was bogging everything down, but maybe the day was just somewhat slow. He even found some paperwork that wasn't properly authorized or sign, and so he took the time to review it to feel like he was doing something. But the words just blurred together and he finally decided to pack the folder away into his robes and to go home. Perhaps some over-the-counter potions and a nap would do him so good. Maybe he should see a healer. Nah.

The bulky African finally made his way towards the lifts and waited near one as he pulled out a green handkerchief and wiped his nose as a lift strode into view. Without thinking much he opened the doors and saw a very familiar, petite, and blonde witch who had stood him up a few months ago and then made a series of scandalous headlines. Azize was a little more miffed about being stood up though, werewolf or not.

"Hannah," he nodded politely to her as he waited for her to exit the lift, and then entered when she didn't budge, "How are you? Besides probation and... things," he was about to say her monthly cycle, but realized that saying that to a female werewolf might get him into some trouble--today was just not his day. He held his handkerchief up to his nose, and at the sound of another of his sneezes the handkerchief faded into a bright blue, causing Azize to furrow his brows at it disapprovingly.

Every muscle throbbed uncomfortable as Hannah Bombay stood in the ministry lift, waiting for it to take her to the entrance and let her floo home to peace, quiet, a comfortable bed that wasn’t chained to a wall with silver, a warm cleansing shower and food. Her pale face was dusted with a light coating of dark dust and dirt, the grey flakes mixed into her animalistic bushy hair which had been scraped back into a messy bun, rebellious waves escaping in copious directions. Scruffy robes hung loosly off the witch, drowning her already small figure with a dark black, covering her dusty trousers and baggy shirt. The prim and proper witch had vanished to leave way for a small woman that looked as if she was an overgrown orphan runaway child from the woods.

To Miss Bombay’s complete dismay, the lift pulled to a premature stop, throwing her back as it shot forwards and halt and the doors opened. The witch was gripping on the handlebars, feeling far more motion sick than any lift should ever make a person as her name rang on the tongue of a familiar sounding wizard.

The accent and his deep voice made Hannah straighten, bright eyes seeking out Azize Mulogo as he simply stood there. Did he want an invitation to join her in the communal ministry elevator?

“Considering the date, I should assume that is evident.” Hannah briskly replied, her tone revealing her total lack of patience and wish to be civil and professionally friendly. Why did everybody read the Daily Prophet? Why did every person in Wizarding Britain need to know that Hannah Bombay was a disobedient werewolf that had been convicted for breaking the law and put on probation?

The lift doors closed and the small contraption shot back, causing the healer to grip on again.

Azize heaved a sigh before he steadied his feet in the lift as it jerked back. His head was already hurting enough, and the witch next to him had already successfully spurned him once, without explanation. Women could be so confoundedly complicated. He rolled his large shoulders back with a heavy shrug as he regarded the girl again, "Really Hannah the day is over, you're going home now, yes?" he blew his nose again as the lift came to a slow stop, and then began moving again. 

"You don't need to remain aggressive," he added, "Just relax." Perhaps it was a bit demanding of him, but he was tired of the witch being so strict and confusing, attempting to handle this all herself--as it would seem, except possibly with Greyfriar. But it didn't seem like Hannah would confide in another werewolf just because they were also a werewolf.

The large man gave another sneeze and his handkerchief curled up into a singe of smoke and a puff of ash and sparks, and then he swiftly mumbled a swift and foreign swear.