Ready for the day, Vivian hurried into Level Two with the hint of a smile on her face. Today was the day she got to torment, err... teach one of the trainees. Dax Fayette was the kid's name, and Vivian had a very exciting day lined up for them. She had ditched the traditional Auror robes that were usually worn outside in favor of street clothes, something that would blend in with the rest of the crowd.

Tracking. An important skill to have when you were an Auror. It helped you to keep an eye on suspects and potential threats, it was a way to weave through the crowed unnoticed and grab your guy. You were silent, stealthy; resemblant to a chameleon.

It was one of the things that Vivian excelled in, and hopefully her protoge wouldn't be too terrible when she put him to the test.  The would start on Level Two, then head out into public for a little game....

For now, Vivian waited by her desk for Dax to meet her. She had said seven AM sharp, the kid had three minutes to get here, and then they would start.

(So sorry this took so long!)

Dax was, true to form...about 45 seconds late, which was actually an improvement for him. He'd have said fashionably late, but Aurors rarely had time for such veiled excuses. As for what he'd been doing...well, the correct answer was incorrectly judging the time it'd take him to get from the elevators to Callen's desk, but in point of fact it had been being Dax - and he'd woken up with 2 minutes to get out the door and run to the office. Thus, he arrived late, with a cup of coffee, uncombed hair and in a uniform badly in need of an ironing spell.

He adjusted his uniform as he approached, but it did little good. Well-fitted as it was, he clearly didn't take much time to worry about creasing it, which made him easy to tell apart from Dion.

The fact he walked up casually also did that, as did him greeting his superior Auror with a tired, half-hearted salute that he nearly gave up on halfway through. He'd never get used to waking up this early in the morning and having to work. Maybe he should have flunked 7th year after all. He'd get better sleep if he did.

"'orning," he said, with a yawn he at least tried to conceal. He sniffed and sipped the coffee, frowning at the bitter taste. "M'not late, am I?"

Vivian eyed the trainee as he ran over towards her, coffee in hand. He looked exhausted as he said good morning, or at least tried to. "Not bad, you're starting to look like a true Auror. Messy hair and bags under your eyes." She clapped her hands together, ready to start their day. "You wouldn't happen to have a go bag with you anywhere? A change of clothes? You're going to want something normal for today's activities."

She gestured at her own clothes, blue jeans and a maroon shirt. Her badge was clipped to her waist and her wand neatly tucked in her knee high boots. "May as well tell you now that I'm going to show you how to trail somebody, without them detecting you."

Thank god this kid wasn't working with some of the stricter Aurors, they'd have him whipped into shape but Vivian was relaxed when it came to trainees. Her training fresh in her mind, there was always those few Aurors with the gentle smile and the approving glare, even if it came with a scolding. They always made the day easier.

What? He could have turned up out of the restrictive (but admitedly dashing) uniform? He could have avoided having to strap on the stupid enchanted leather armor and the red overcoat? Merlin's Pants, he could have worn his Three Owl Standard shirt and that pair of jeans with the worn out heels!

Life. Life was a bunch of...bull excrement.

"No," he sighed, chugging a big gulp of coffee and pausing as he strugged to swallow it. "I didn't get the memo, ma'am. There's a pair of my clothes in the Armory, though." They'd been there ever since he'd gotten stuck using his change of clothes as polishing cloth. "They're pretty dirty, though. It'd probably stand out more..." And frankly, he wasn't sure he wanted to wear a shirt covered in magical armor polish. He liked his nipples unpolished.

He looked down at himself and then laughed. "Hey, if I can track you in this, I can track you in anything, right?"

Vivian smirked, "Whatever works for you. The main question will be can you lose me easily if I try to track you?" She pulled out her wand, "I've got a spell that will make your robe look like normal clothes. You'll still feel like the scarlet coat is there, but to everyone else you'll be in jeans and a normal shirt."

"You'll say 'vestatio' and it should change your clothing. We'll pretend I'm the suspect, and you're going to trail me. If I notice you and give you the cut sign," she mimicked a thumbs down, "change your clothes again and we'll restart the game. It's like cat and mouse."

"So first rule, I can't notice you. You have to catch me without tipping me off that I'm being followed. Got that? So we'll use the floo system to head out into Diagon Alley, the busiest part for now. I'll go first and you go second." She explained all of this while they walked to the floo system. They arrived in front and she walked into one, "Diagon Alley." She commanded it sharply, accenting each word, and with that, she was gone and off.

The game had begun.

Dax nodded, wisely deciding not to ask if it was a normal shirt for him - that is, lame slogan and all - or just a t-shirt. It didn't really matter, though, did it? He was still stuck in the blasted uniform, rather than free in a pair of jeans. And more comfortable shoes.

"I  get - err. I mean, understood, Auror Callen," he said, snapping off a salute that was considerably less practiced than one of Dion's. When the woman vanished in the rush of green, he took a moment to adjust his uniform, casting the spell she'd mentioned. It was certainly an odd experience; his eyes said t-shirt, but he could feel the undershirt and the long sleeves...

He resolved to just not looked at it, and grabbed a fistful of the Floo powder.  "Diagon Alley!"

The spin of the transport was considerable - Dax had never been a fan of Floo travel, fast or not. He stepped out of the fireplace on the other side and stumbled, putting a hand on the mantle and getting his bearings. The arrival spot was crowded, even for this early hour. Running a hand through his hair, he looked around for Vivian.

Callen disapeared into the sea of witches and wizards in Diagon Alley, she notably passed by some of the smaller cafes that had tables set outside, pausing by each one. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she looked back to see if she could spot Dax anywhere, then remembered that he wouldn't be in scarlet anymore, but in street clothes.

The woman kept walking, the heels of her boot clicking against the ground as she did. She tucked her protruding wand a little farther into the top of her boot, not wanting it to fall out or be stolen because that would really put a damper on her day. She stumbled a bit over a curb, splashing one boot into the puddle below. She swore under her breath and kept going, running into someone by accident and apologizing quickly.

If Dax didn't find her after that commotion, she didn't know what she would do with the kid. But for now, Vivian kept walking.

Dax stumbled, getting his bearings in the crowd. He was badly built for this and he knew it. Being taller than average, with broad shoulders and - he'd happily admit it - a quite handsome face, he stood out in the crowd. This was only compounded by the fact that Dax usually liked standing out; it was difficult to resist his usual habits.

He did his best, though, walking as casually through the crowd as he could manage, slightly hunched down to try and stay more level with the crowd's height. Vivian wasn't easy to spot, and so her stumbling caught his eye. He turned slightly, stopping with a small group to admire some young owls, watching her as best he could from the corner of his eye. He'd never appreciated how well people could blend into a crowd; it was hard not to lose her in the mill of people walking by.

She walked off again and he did his best to follow, trying to stay where the crowd was thickest.

Damn, this kid was good. Vivian couldn't see him anywhere behind her, so she had either lost him, or he was doing what he was supposed to; being optimistic about things, she went with the latter. She tilted her head as she smelled something particularly good, somebody was baking in one of these shops and it smelled wonderful. Vivian's stomach growled in protest and she sighed, realizing that all she'd consumed this morning was a cup of coffee.

She thought she'd give Dax a good chance to stay still and observe, so Vivian walked into the bakery that was enticing her senses, looking into the display case and eyeing all of the tasty things. If she could purchase something and eat it in here, it'd give Dax the opportunity to get closer without being noticed and to see what she was eating. That would be one of the questions she'd give him when they got back.

Vivian purchased a large raspberry muffin and a coffee, sitting herself down in one of the bakery's small tables by the front window. She watched and waited a good ten minutes, eating her muffin all the while. She wanted to see if she could find Dax in the thickening crowd...

Dax was, sadly, not known for his subtlety. He headed after her in the crowd and - to his growing dismay - realized he'd lost her.

Weaving through the crowd with his head down just enough he didn't stand out, he hurried along the street. He couldn't see very well. He gave in and this he chanced pulling himself up near one of the many bay windows in Diagon, standing on tip toe and looking around. In theory it meant he could get spotted, but at this point it was better than getting lost...

He was lucky; he spotted Vivian's back as she ducked into a nearby bakery, the smells reminding him that he was - annoyingly - quite hungry. He couldn't quite see what she did inside the store, but nonetheless he dropped down into the crowd and headed closer.

Unfortunately, he got a bit too close. As a group came through he found himself elbowed out of the throng and into the bakery's sitting area, and he scrambled to get himself hidden in the flow of people - in the end, he settled for hiding behind a large dressmaker's dummy.