"Yes, though it's a bit light. I decided against anything too engrossing. You know how absorbed I can get, and I'd hate for you to have to hex me to obtain my attention." She shifted her chair a bit, moved it back towards one corner of the room where it would be out of Tarron's way. The books were set atop it, and then she gently placed the bag of candy on an empty spot on his desk.

"And I do hope the letters don't take too long. I might begin to get perturbed at them stealing all your attention." Her grin seemed to indicate that she was teasing, or at least mostly so. Then she picked out one of the books and curled up on the chair with it. Apparently, thick tomes on Arithmancy fit her idea of 'light reading'.

Another grunt in was what Tarron gave in response, as he wrote away at his letter. He doubted he would ever have to hex his wife out of a book, especially those written by the Hogwarts teachers. Of the teachers who had written works, none of them had particularly tickled his interest. His scholarly focuses had led him to only being interested in the books published by one Aileen Reid, his cousin, and if he wished discourse on that account, he could simply write to her. Besides, her books were focused on Egyptian hieroglyphics. His Runic interests lay in the Rune-stones of Europe.

"They usually make the effort, it's true," he said, though did not mention there were a few letters he was more or less deliberately snubbing. There were things a gentleman did not admit to doing, especially to a Lady. Even if that lady was his wife.

"I believe you're acquainted with Mister Hollingbury?" He asked, as he signed the letter and folded it neatly, sliding it into an envelope. He flipped the paper over and began to address it.

There was, at times, something about Tarron's dour expression that Aisling found quite amusing.  So far as she could tell, this was a rather rare trait. And not one she would ever engage in public. But here, at home, she allowed herself a grin over the top of her book, and slight chuckle as well.

"Slightly, yes. Why?"  There was a tiny, pained flicker in her voice. A few of the jelly beans flew from his desk into her hand. After a moment, she closed her book and set it aside. Just a few words on Occlumency had been difficult enough. Practicing it again was particularly daunting. "My last conversation with him did not proceed quite as I had hoped." Though she had to admit that such a discussion proceeding with ease was far too much to ask.

He'd long grown used to her finding his moods funny. Contrary to most expectations, he rather liked it; she knew when he was being serious versus just being dour, and was able to react as appropriate. Her ability to adjust her mood to suit his, or at least to keep her thoughts to herself, was quite endearing. Especially when compared to other women he'd known (namely his mother, who had always gotten herself worked up over his father and he being 'too serious' and ignoring her).

"Oh dear," he said, as he dropped wax on the back of the envelope. He didn't look up, but his gaze darted up to her for a moment; it was a quick and easy way to say I'm listening. "Should you two chose to meet again, perhaps -"

He paused for a moment, as he turned his signet ring around and stamped the wax with a sudden, but rather pointed thud. It was a tad more forceful than necessary - just enough to echo in the study and convey his annoyance.

"You can inform him that his people need to be contacting me via the correct channels," he finished, flicking the letter into the out box on the left side of the desk.  "Did you not like the man? I have had little contact with him, personally." He picked up another letter and began the whole process again, complete with annoyed frown at the letter's contents.

Aisling had missed this, though  of course she still missed her daughters as well. Quiet mornings with just the two of them were something that had been largely lost to the war and demands of children. Though she would have to make a note to Krix later about ensuring that Tarron's desk was properly equipped for such punctuated use of the signet.

"I can pass your request along, certainly." She shifted her hand just enough to send the candy within rolling back and forth. "And he was quite pleasant, and helpful. Merely a bit thick when I endeavored to be delicate with some matters." The shadow had faded from her voice, and she smiled again, then popped the jellybeans into her mouth. "Just don't start asking me to foretell their futures with the entrails of any offending owls. I would hardly need such to determine fates, then." She shot an amused glare at his desk and the papers thereon.

The next letter got much the same treatment, though with less annoyance. He picked up a new sheet of parchment, inked his quill, and began to write. When she spoke, the quiet scratch scratch scratch of the moving quill filled the room. "That would be appreciated," he said, dryly. He had little argument with Hollingbury currently, but one more letter about tea sets and he would very much consider it.

He raised an eyebrow at her as she continued, his unspoken question plain - what matters? But he did not ask it aloud; the look of brief, worried curiosity was enough. The raised eyebrow simply assisted matters.

"I see no sound reason to slaughter a perfectly competent messenger owl," he said, snorting and re-inking his quill. "Its owner's entrails might be a better choice, in any case," he added, in a darker but not particularly malicious tone. "But good choices aside -  slaughtering another's pets, even for quite practical reasons, is a bit crude, Aisling." He smiled, briefly, and bent back to the letter.

The room was silent for a moment, broken only by the noises of the quill. Aisling seemed to be thinking, framing and reforming thoughts in response to quips and unspoken queries. "He's a skilled Occlumens, and I've been neglecting the skill for far too long. But the causes of my difficulties with it seemed to call for a bit of discretion." Her voice had grown almost stilted, though her expression hadn't quite lost the bit of amusement to it.

"And it would be crude, which is why I would be so terribly concerned were one of us to feel driven to such an approach. How many letters are you supposed to be answering, in truth?" She craned her head to take another look at his desk. "Don't they have secretaries to handle them?" Flitting her thoughts over to such a mundane matter, even for a moment, brought a bit of relief.

He paused again, face openly concerned for a fraction of a second. He hadn't shared his wife's miseries during the war - had never seen the inside of Azkaban for himself. But he knew what had occurred there and knew how miserable it would have been. It wasn't something he wanted just anyone poking around in Aisling's mind over. Not that he quite liked the idea of another doing that.

Especially another man.

"Mmm," he said. "Don't do anything unnecessary," he said, which was about as much of his concerns as he was likely to air. Aisling was Aisling; he respected her too much to order her to stop anything.

He shrugged slightly at the letter stack. "Perhaps I should consider hiring a secretary," he admitted, slightly hesitantly. He liked to do things himself; he'd probably run a secretary off within a week.

Aisling massaged her neck with one hand. The lulls in the conversation were perfect for aiding in holding her thoughts together. The mere echo of those dark cells would not be her master. "But of course. I have no wish to involve a Legilimens in this matter." To consider allowing another to prod at her memories with these so close to the surface seemed quite cruel, amid all the other reasons. "And I'll be glad to have the girls home. They'll never be able to write enough for my taste."

She lowered her hand, and directed her gaze to the letters overtaking Tarron's desk. "Mmm, perhaps. Or have Krix redirect most of your mail back to your office. I would expect finding a secretary who meets your standards to be a rather lengthy process." As she leaned back in her chair again, it knocked one of her books askew. "Though I would so enjoy it if you had more time for...other activities."

Tarron nodded slightly, glad to hear it. He personally had never had much interest in learning either mind-based ability himself; he, for now, had no reason to need them, though he understood why others might. Unlike Aisling, he preferred to wear his scars on the outside and then never mention them. His major scar - his family's rejection - wasn't one any shield could guard again the sting of, anyway.

"Hrm. They write often enough - certainly more than many their age," he reminded her gently as he sealed the second letter, signet ring going thunk with considerably less force this time. He looked up at her trailing comment, and smiled slightly - the twitch of his mustache being the easiest giveaway.

"I certainly would enjoy it as well, yes. Should you ever encounter someone you think makes the cut, do let me know."

Aisling adjusted the position of the book that she had bumped, and gave it a rather resigned look before turning back toward Tarron. "I know they do. And likely do so at that rate only for my sake." They were, whatever else might be said of them, quite thoughtful children.

"And I most certainly will. While I may have a few other activities with which to occupy my new-found time, your presence is always appreciated." She stood, then bent over to run her thumb along the spine of a book before lifting both of them up. "For now, I will compose a letter to Darian and then speak with Krix about our next meal. Your point regarding my schedule was quite well-made, loath though I may be to admit it." Skipping breakfast did tend to weaken her appetite, and thus having eaten it she was finding herself rather hungry again.

She moved towards the doorway, paused for a moment to look back at Tarron. "Please don't forget about the chess, either. When you take too long I find myself tempted to alter my strategy completely halfway through the game. And that invariably disrupts my analysis."  The books, being heavy, were slightly difficult to hold, and so she adjusted her grip on them before heading out.

END