I saw a werewolf with a Chinese menu in his hand
Walking through the streets of Soho in the rain
He was looking for a place called Lee Ho Fook's
Going to get himself a big dish of beef chow mein
- Werewolves of London

Johann Storm sorted through a pile of new correspondance on his desk, sipping a cup of coffee in one hand, his long, pale fingers wrapped around the ceramic and the steam rose up through his curls as he paused to consider a rather interesting piece in the pile. Smiling to himself he chuckled - this was interesting.

He cast aside the rest of the pile, and set aside his coffee, his blue eyes translating the document steadily from the Chinese Ministry. The rather formal cover note from their Ministry showed a minor apology from them about the attachment, and that they had sent the document to the International Magical Co-operation Department in hope they would assist the relevant British Department with the individual. It read as if they were quite happy to see him go.

Johann flipped over the parchment and gave the form behind a proper examination. It was a standard form used by the Department for Regulation of Magical Creatures when a werewolf entered the country before entry. As far as Johann remembered, though he could be wrong, the foreign werewolf was to report and fill out this paperwork with the Department preferably, to ensure it was filled out correctly.

This one had certainly not been filled out correctly, and had answers to questions that clearly avoided giving the most basic information. To make matters worse, the Chinese mentioned grimly at the end that the werewolf had already departed and was probably already in the country. With a full moon days away, and a paranoid Ministry wishing to lock down any potential lycanthropes, this was not good news.

Johann quickly wrote a memo to a man who he knew would be interested, concerned and intrigued by this situation. It was never all that fun to keep such things to oneself.

Got a present for you. Come see me. - Johann

It didn't take too long for Charlie to make his way upstairs and navigate through the open plan office, and Johann had two cups of steaming liquid ready on his desk.

"Good of you to come." Johann grinned, "How do you fancy a Chinese werewolf?"

The mound of paperwork on Charlie’s desk was astronomical. It seemed that for every registry application he approved, three more magically appeared in his inbox. The issue was… they really were magically appearing in his inbox. There was an influx of registry applications, as there always seemed to be around the full moon. With the offer of a safe haven, proper potioneering, and various other Ministry offered amenities, many lycanthropes wouldn’t dare not register themselves. Not to mention that it was the law and the Werewolf Capture Unit would be all over any unregistered activity.

Not only were there new applications to sort through, but there was the issue of all the already registered werewolves sending in their monthlies. Making sure there were enough havens set up, ensuring enough wolfsbane would be available, and general clerical work left Charlie exhausted at the end of every day. Then there were the physical meetings. Charlie hated having the lycanthropes in his office, not because he disliked werewolves, simply because their stories were all so touching and usually left him in tears. At least with papers he didn’t have a face to put with the madness.

Charlie sat behind his desk, trying desperately to decipher a particularly illegible report when the interoffice memo came whizzing around his desk. Charlie snatched the correspondence from midair and read the short note. Without hesitation he jumped from his desk and walked quickly from his office, shutting the door firmly behind him. Anything to get away from the evils of boredom.

It took Charlie a remarkably short amount to reach the linguist’s desk, and in just a few short minutes, the Werewolf Registry Clerk stood before Johann’s desk with a huge grin dominating his features. He wasn’t exactly sure what kind of present Storm had in mind, but the DoIMC employee could give Charlie anything he wanted looking like that.

“Chinese, you say?” Charlie said, Johann’s note becoming clearer, “Merlin’s balls. He doesn’t speak a bit of English, does he?” The weary wizard said with a slight curse, sinking into the visitor’s chair in front of the desk. Why else would the message have gone straight to the desk of the polyglot?

"Not a..." Johann paused, considering the British phrase "... sausage. Or so he tries to convince us."

He had already begun a written translation of the paperwork into English for Robards, but gave a verbal summary.

"He's apparently a bit of a thorn in the Minsitry's side, given the way they've written about him." Johann sat back in his chair and gestured that Charlie was welcome to drink the contents of the second mug on his desk.

"Unusual then, that they have let him travel freely without the correct paperwork, you'd think? They knew he was coming here, and your Chinese equivalents had him fill out the paperwork but its in a bit of a state. The wolf's got a juvenile sense of humour. I quote occupation: tearing heads off children." Johann's eyes lit up as he explained.

"I think they were only too glad to get rid of him, and this is just a meek apology of a bungled operation. His form is dated, if correct, the 21st, so he could have been here for at a week already." Johann made a face and put the form back down on his desk.

"I'll transcribe the rest for your records, but you might need to pull some swift record-checking from Transportation to see if he's been logged coming in the international floo network. We'll take the chance that he hasn't flown across the English Channel on a broom."

The German leaned forwards across the desk and looked at Robards intensely,
"Any good at flirting? There's a pretty girl in Transport who would probably be overjoyed to help a face like yours out." He smiled boyishly.

Charlie tried, unsuccessfully, to shield his laughter from the German. The man’s hesitation over the British slang was simply too funny for Charlie not to laugh at. He reached for the proffered mug and took a hearty gulp to help control his giggling. His glee, however, quickly abated when Johann started rattling off the contents of the page. When Johann spoke the lycanthrope’s occupation, Charlie visibly grimaced.

They were all a thorn in the Ministry’s side, as far as Charlie was concerned. He nodded to the linguist, showing that he had Charlie’s full attention. “I’d rather not involve the capture unit just yet. Chinese regulation is quite a bit more lax than ours; it’s possible that the mistake is their fault, not his. I’d rather not subject the poor brute to the WCU’s particular brand of unpleasantness if it’s not totally necessary.” Most of the members of the Werewolf Capture Unit were quite friendly and only used force when it was the only option available… Some, however, relished in the torture and capture of their prey and Charlie didn’t really think that was the best way to go.

"Any good at flirting? There's a pretty girl in Transport who would probably be overjoyed to help a face like yours out."

Charlie matched Johann grin for grin. “I’d have a better time helping the boys regulate their broomsticks,” he whispered, leaning in toward the desk so the wizard could hear him. He was right though, he’d have to make a trip to Transportation, hopefully they’d keep it on the low key until Charlie figured out what to do with the problem.

“I’d have a better time helping the boys regulate their broomsticks,” Charlie leaned forward to explain.

Johann raised an eyebrow and smirked.
"Is that a euphemism? If so, its a rather good one." His eyes flickered down to the parchment again. "This will only take a few more minutes for a rough translation - enjoy your drink, while you wait."

The quill scratched quickly and neatly across the page as the linguist's head bobbed ever so slightly as he worked. His black curls fell forward, and fingertips traced over the parchment, lips forming words. The process continued for a few minutes before he lifted the quill and compared both documents quickly, muttering to himself under his breath, not in English.   

"There." He dropped his quill and exchanged it for his wand, duplicating the document and handing one to Charlie. "Other than the profession, I also very much enjoy the reasons for travelling to the UK. To recruit and support my lycan brothers and sisters and increase our population. I hear British Muggles taste good due to their rich diets. Though, it reads much more eloquently in the original tongue." Johann smiled boyishly. "He sounds quite a character this, Hirotoshi Liu, don't you think?"

Charlie met Johann’s eyes and gave the man a slight wink; he wasn’t exactly sure how to respond. He had never actually been called out on his innuendo before. Instead of trying to respond and completely make a fool of himself, Charlie just sat back and sipped at the warm liquid in his cup. It was truly delicious, somehow the linguist had managed to make what Charlie considered the perfect brew and he would simply never be able to duplicate the feat. It had to be magically (or alcoholically) enhanced.

Charlie truly admired the polyglot, with his way with words. The closest Charlie would ever come to multilingualism is knowing how to say some naughty phrases in gobbledygook, so he always found himself in awe of people who could fluently speak in foreign tongues. The clerk reached over and took the paper gratefully from Johann and had to try very hard to keep his composure. Not only was the paperwork woefully incorrect, it was also quite disturbing, as reiterated by Mr. Storm’s commentary.

“I’d say no. This Mr. Liu sounds like he’s going to give me quite the headache,” He sighed, suddenly wishing there was something much stronger in his cup. He looked down at the brown beverage mournfully before looking back up to Johann. He placed the document in his lap, face down, deciding that he wouldn’t worry about it until he was back at his desk, alone, and could think about the best course of action. “At least the beast has good taste, I’m sure I would taste rather delicious,” He said, followed by a short giggle. A little harmless flirting never hurt anyone.

“At least the beast has good taste, I’m sure I would taste rather delicious,”

Johann's eyebrow raised and he turned his head slightly, eyes keen upon Charlie as his expression changed to curiosity.

"No doubt you do." He replied smoothly, pausing a second before clarifying. "Apparently human flesh is like good, fully developed veal, not young, but not yet beef.[1]" The German stated it as if it were common knowledge, his eyes lingering on Charlie's expression.

"So, want a hand finding him?" He asked slowly. "I can see from this pile," Johann landed a fingertip on the incoming post like he was trying to stab it through the pile of paperwork, his eyes not leaving Charlie's.

"There's nothing that interesting or important that could desire my attention more than who is sitting opposite me."

1.	A scientific discussion from the Guardian newspaper

With the man’s rather apt and in depth description of cannibalism, Charlie lowered his cup and placed it upon the edge of the desk. Certainly any appetite he may have had was now gone, leaving a rather unpleasant taste in its wake. His tongue seemed to swell in his mouth, leaving him quite incapable of a response, but then again, what kind of a response would be appropriate to a statement like that? None that Charlie could come up with; he only hoped that his face wasn’t as green as he felt on the inside.

Then again, the man dealt with ravaging murders on a daily basis, why was he getting freaked out by the thought of digesting human flesh? Would he not turn to cannibalism himself if he had no other alternatives? Honestly that was a question Charlie never wanted to find the answer to, though he could cope with the man’s depiction a bit better with that thought in mind.

When Johann asked if Charlie wanted a spot of help, the smile returned in full force. Of course he’d rather team up with a rather attractive looking (yet, admittedly odd) linguist than the stuffy and violent members of the Werewolf Capture Unit. He nodded fervently, trying to find his voice again. “Y…yes! I think that would be most pleasurable,” He finally managed to stutter out; Johann probably thought he was a complete nutter acting the way he was.

“Where do you suppose we begin?” He said, trying to return his voice to a bit of normalcy.

“Y…yes! I think that would be most pleasurable, where do you suppose we begin?”

Johann looked keenly across the desk at Charlie, his eyes intently examining the clerk's mannerisms and response to his previous statement. It was interesting to see how people reacted to his unedited thought process. Few seemed that comfortable to receive it, but Charlie was sticking with it. He'd be fun.

"That pretty face at Transport." Johann smirked, "And then when we're done there, we might have a photo of our furry friend." He scratched out another memo to his colleagues to try and track down a photograph while they were gone. The paper aeroplane zipped from his fingertips once folded and shot across the office.

"To the sixth floor, pretty boy." Johann grinned, lifting himself from his chair. He'd meant pretty boy in terms of his earlier suggestion that Charlie might flirt with a useful member of staff on the floor, but given his earlier comment it was easily suggestive.

Charlie sat his mug down on the edge of the linguist’s desk as the taller man stood to escort him to transport. Secretly, Charlie was glad they were leaving the polyglot’s personal space, the area felt a tad uncomfortable now that Johann had soiled the aura with talk of cannibalism. The man was certainly an odd one, though Charlie had to keep in mind that he came from a totally different culture, and he did hear worse things on a daily basis.

Upon hearing a compliment… perhaps a bit of a flirt… coming from Johann’s mouth, the grin that seemed to be permanently plastered to Charlie’s face seemed to grow even larger. He walked in front of Johann, moving swiftly to the lifts, trying desperately to hide the blush that had crept into his features.

-END-