Surprisingly, it was a slow day around the Auror Offices. Not that Grace expected it to stay that way, but it was a nice break and she could actually breathe a bit while she ate her lunch and sorted through papers. As she sifted through the stack that Whitman had handed to her, Grace saw that there was an envelope labeled "FOR ROSIER" on it. It was sealed and it had some bulk to it. Grace turned it over in her hands and gave it a shake and then squeezed it, trying to do her best detective work to figure it out.

Shrugging to no one in particular, Grace took a rather large bite of her sandwich and stood to go deliver the package to its rightful owner. Still munching when she arrived at Rosier's office, Grace saw that the door was open. But when she peeked in, Rosier was nowhere to be found.

Which was perfectly fine with her. After cleaning the office with Fleetwood during the summer, Grace had heard through the office gossip that he had been none too pleased with the thought of trainees rummaging around in his things. Nevermind that they had simply been doing a job that would ensure his office wasn't overrun with paper wads.

Sighing, Grace stepped inside, resolved to deposit the package on his desk and leave. But then she had a thought.

What if there is important evidence in here?

Brows raised with a mixture of curiosity and concern, Grace slowly moved towards the desk. Maybe she should wait to make sure he got it.

She was about to take a seat in the chair opposite the desk but her curiosity got the better of her. She remained standing and craned her neck to try and catch a glimpse of some papers in a file that had been left opened.

Sneaking a glance behind her to see that no one was there, Grace inched forward and reached out to slide the top paper into a position so that she could better read it.

CASEFILE ---

Today was a really, really stressful day. Rosier arrived at work at an ungodly hour in the morning in order to prepare some documents for a meeting later in the day. He was tired, angry and maybe even a bit hungover. He was wearing the reading glasses which made him look like someone's grandfather and walked around the hallways of Level Two with his face glued to a tattered-looking document. An unlit cigarette was hanging out his mouth, but he already forgot about it. Right now, the document in his hands was the most exciting thing on the planet. It was the latest report from Pratt - the poor man was sent to Finland to investigate a lead. By the look of it, his Northern friend didn't quite enjoy the new setting.

He walked into his office, still not looking properly in front of him. He shut the door rather quietly this time, to his own surprise and continued his stroll in the direction of his desk. But after one more step, it was evident something was wrong. Very wrong. He looked up finally, spotting a girl, reading something from his very own desk. Snooping around again! What was the point? Did someone make them do this so they could spy on him? Before the girl noticed him, he approached his desk and cleared his throat.

"Enjoying the view?" he asked the girl sternly, staring at her. He threw his documents on top of the folder she was trying to read and then crossed his arms. "Why don't you sit here," he indicated at his armchair, the throne of the King of DoMLE. "And while you're at it, why don't you help yourself with my documents and notes...I'm sure you'll find them useful." The way he was saying this sounded dead-serious and calm, but his gaze was murderous.

"And will you be attending the afternoon meeting for me as well? Since you're already being so terribly helpful." He finally caught one of them in the act and now there was no way he would let the girl go unpunished. "Would you like some tea?"

Grace clearly wasn't anticipating the arrival of someone else (least of all Rosier) so quickly after her attempt to sneak a peak at the casefile on the desk. She barely was able to read more than three words and the moment a voice broke in, she had lost any sense of coherence in what she was reading.

The voice caused Grace to stand up rim-rod straight, as if a bucket of ice had been dumped down her back. Her head whipped around and her wide eyed gaze immediately latched onto its owner, a man who looked tired and disheveled and like a hippogriff had drug him through the trenches.

Grace had never met Rosier before in person but she had heard stories about him from some of the other Aurors which included a few choice nicknames, Wizard Grumpypants among them. But apparently, according to Witch Weekly, he was attempting to do something to improve his foul moods. He was often reported in the company of Dolly St. James. Was that how one cured such a disposition?

Grace realized that he was looking at her expectantly. Her eyes darted from his face to the chair he had indicated. "Sit there?" She repeated, barely thinking clearly. She frowned and then blurted out, "Oh No thanks. I uh...." Grace fumbled for something else to say and feebly offered, "I hear its a rather thankless job, sir."

Surprisingly, it made the trainee less nervous to keep her eyes glued to her face, despite how angry he looked. It was easier to focus on his reaction rather than her attempts to respond to it.

With a sheepish and apologetic shrug, Grace responded to his offer (whether serious or sarcastic) with a simple, "Tea, sir?" Her mind went blank for a moment before she impulsively offered, "Isn't it a little late in the day for tea? I thought most ministry officials moved on to something....errr...stronger by late afternoon...." Her voice trailed off with less confidence until she finally tacked on a quieter, "But maybe Auror Whitman was just joking about that."

The girl was of course very nervous and probably even a bit scared of him. Good. He was still looking at her with the strictest expression possible, the way only grumpy, old people knew. There was not even a hint of anything but anger and disdain on his face and if she thought she could amuse him with her would-be witty remark about telling him what is a thankless job, she was very wrong. "Oh but I insist," he said, still eyeing his armchair. "Isn't this what you wanted? You'll have access to all my documents from there."

It was never too late for tea! This girl was preposterous, but Rosier wasn't sure if he should smirk or cry when she continued speaking. He couldn't tell if she was serious or if this was some sort of weird young Auror banter. Didn't she realize she just called him an alcoholic in a way? Nevermind the bottle of gin hidden somewhere in his drawers and the champagne behind the stack of dusty books. "What's your name, girl?" He barked, ignoring her question and the tea altogether. He decided he wasn't up for small-talk with this one...her attitude was already annoyingly familiar.

Still keeping an eye on her, Rosier sat down on the guest chair, leaving his armchair for the girl. "So, why are you here? And don't lie, because I'll know it. Did someone send you here?" He could imagine Eleor or Trevelyan pulling some elaborate prank again...Well at least it wasn't raining in his office this time. He was tired and stressed out....and he had work to do! But he was too proud and stubborn to let her go unpunished, so this had to be done. Why was his life always so complicated?