Based on all outward appearances, it was a completely unexceptional day.

Jonas had arrived at his usual hour -- a little but not too early, which would have drawn suspicion.  It gave him just enough time to quietly disarm any display that might be waiting to greet him before getting drawn into his meetings for the morning.  There was an art to being on guard without looking like you were expecting an ambush, and he could maintain  a poker face with the best of them.  All he had to do was keep his eyes open and play it cool.

At least today, there was no real reason to be anything more than wary.  He'd made Anna swear ten times over not to say a word.  They were going out with the Eleors and Raizel Cohen later to celebrate Dreogan's birthday, and the elder of the two brothers had similarly promised, upon Jonas's nervous insistence, not to say anything to anyone.  As far as he knew, Adon was completely and blissfully unaware, far too engulfed in their work to think about anything else.  Tamis had far too much on her plate to recall such a meaningless detail from a prior lifetime.  And unless one of his other coworkers had gone well out of their way to prepare -- which he would certainly not put past Archer Radley, seeing how inimical vindictiveness was a common side effect of old age and he had recently turned forty -- there was no way that anyone else in the office could have the slightest idea.

The lift stopped with its usual jolt at Level Two.  The doors jerked open to reveal a hallway that had looked exactly the same as it had when he'd left the night before.  Nothing out of the ordinary.  Jonas arched an eyebrow, and then calmly stepped out, slipping his hands into his pockets as he made his way towards the headquarters of the Auror Corps.

The Auror Office, too, seemed perfectly in order as he entered.  Jonas whistled a jaunty tune, doing his best to keep a careful eye out without looking like he was keeping an eye out as he strolled past the break room and headed for his desk.  Again, nothing.  No banners.  No cavemen.  No strange red wigs.  And it wasn't as if the office was empty, which would have certainly been suspicious -- there was plenty of activity already about.  A tired Dean Bailey looked to be finishing up the night shift, and a couple of trainees were already sipping coffee -- and more importantly, were doing so safely without immediately polyjuicing into another figure, which was definitely a good sign.

Letting out the breath he'd been trying not to look like he was holding, Jonas dropped his shoulders, allowing some of the tension to ease from his posture.  Everything looked completely, utterly normal.  So far, so good.

Feeling decidedly more cheerful, the red-haired Auror headed for his desk.  For the most part, it looked inconspicuous; some of the papers had been shifted around from where he had left them the night before, but that could have just been Rosier.  A quick Revelaspell seemed to show no active enchantments.  Letting out a relieved sigh, Jonas dropped to sit, leaning back in his chair as he stretched his legs out under his desk.

"Pratt, you in yet, mate?" he called cheerfully over the cubicle wall.  He kept his wand easily in hand; no reason to let his defenses down so early, even if everything seemed to be all clear so far.  "I spotted a pair of trainees getting into your coffee.  Reckon you ought to have a word with 'em about that."

The sound coming from Edward Pratt’s desk was a soft, regular snore. He’d arrived at work a mere hour ago when Viv had kicked him out to go to work and so the auror had decided to catch up on a few of the winks one tends to lose when staying at one’s girlfriend’s apartment. Especially when one’s girlfriend was a gorgeous French woman that couldn’t keep her hands off one’s incredibly attractive self.

It really was a tough life.

"Pratt, you in yet, mate?" came a call from the other side of the cubicle wall and Eddie jumped up in his seat, sitting up, back straight and suddenly alert. He wasn’t asleep! He’d been simply thinking. Thinking with his eyes closed. Ed always snored when he thought…

“Paddy!” He spat out having instantly recognised the annoying accent. It must have grated on his mind through his light sleep, thought!

“I think they value their lives too much.” Yet today Eddie oddly didn’t care. Despite his tiredness, his mood was good. Hot French women did that to you. “Besides,” he raised his voice to carry over the cubicle wall. “I spotted a couple of ‘em rootin in yer desk earlier.” Pratt pushed himself to his feet and leant against the cubicle wall, sticking his head over to look down at Jonas. “Stalked off giggling like…well, teenagers.”

Now, Archer wouldn't say he had the best memory for seemingly useless things - like birthdays, and the like, but - he would be lying.  Growing up in his family, with far too many people to keep track of, the Radleys were always very conscious of the important dates to people around them.  Partially out of a strong family bond and partially out of fear of what would happen if one forgot such a thing - which, often, tended to be the impetus for a family hexing so severe ties were ruptured with that branch for at least six months.  So, Archer was very aware of what day it was - it also had something to do with the calendar that had never come down from his cubicle, even after all these years.  Magicked the thing up to change with the years, but keep all the same important dates.  Convenient, really. 

But, just because it had been up nearly all month, staring at him and telling him to think of something, did not mean that he was going out of his way. 

That would make it all the better. 

He had a couple of morning tasks to attend to - debriefing a couple of trainees about their night shift that they endured with Bailey.  Perhaps the most difficult part of the whole thing was not showing his empathy toward them considering their company.  But, it was easier when he realized how much he couldn't stand punk attitudes who complained about filling in forms all night, and moved on, telling them to get back to work - they had another shift to attend to.  Probably why they made a line straight for the coffee.

Archer already had his mug filled, so he wasn't going to stop them, though the glare he gave at the generous pour of the young man was enough to make the boy's hands falter.  Archer smirked as he took a sip of his own coffee. 

He sauntered across the floor, having spied the target enter, and made his way toward a location close in proximity but not too close - going to check on Pratt, who almost always had dubious intentions, making him a perfect ally. 

When he overheard the topic of conversation, he found it appropriate to jump right in.  "Oh yeh, I just had a talk with 'em," he inclined his had back toward the whispering pair near the coffee machine.  "Said nothing out of the ordinary," he shrugged, "but they were on duty with Bailey last night.  Apparently he asked them for something - wouldn't say - and wouldn't tell them why either," he shrugged.  "Weird." 

Another sip of his coffee and he looked down at Eddie, "You still look happy," he observed, "this one hasn't sucked your soul yet, eh?" he referred to the girlfriend, of course, in the disparaging way it was appropriate to do so amongst friends. 

Pratt seemed to be in a relatively good mood this morning.  The Northerner was often hard to predict, with extreme moods that changed at a whimsy, but for now, even a threat to his morning coffee didn't seem to be setting him off.  Jonas smiled to himself as he leaned back in his chair, letting his eyes close.  All was well --

Suddenly, he sat bolt upright, eyes wide open.  There had been trainees in his desk?!  Grace!  The red-haired Auror turned dead white.  He'd forgotten about Grace!  Mental images danced through his head of his niece thoughtfully coming in early on this particular day, chatting cheerfully with one of her housemates as she stopped by her uncle's desk to drop off something she'd picked out herself, just as Ed Pratt happened to amble by and inquired what she might be up to --

Jonas had already begun to frantically dig through the piles of papers that covered his desk when he caught himself.  Gritting his teeth, he forced out a sharp breath and lowered himself back into his chair. 

"Did they?" he asked nonchalantly, even though his heart was sinking.  Now Radley had gone out of his way to insert himself into the conversation.  That did not bode well.  Frantically, he began to think through possibilities.  Trainees meant it couldn't have been a complicated charm; his former partner would have taken too much pleasure in setting up a retaliatory prank himself to trust it to a trainee, even a talented one.  Had they left something for him to find?  Taken something for Archer and Eddie to use in a spell later?

"Well," he said, clearing his throat and attempting to sound perfectly normal, "maybe Rosier wanted 'em to fetch something.  I've been leaving the papers I reckon he'll want out on the top; it's no trouble as long as he doesn't dig through anything." 

The conversation had -- thankfully and naturally -- shifted on.  Now they were back on a favorite topic, that being Pratt's current blissful stint in the dating world.  Jonas forced himself to breath, and then eased himself to his feet, taking care with his bad knee.  It was probably nothing.  There was no reason to be this on edge.  Giving his desk one last suspicious look, he made his way out of his cubicle and over to Pratt's, only limping slightly.

"Yeah, going well, innit?" he asked cheerfully, risking a quick smile at the younger Auror as he leaned an arm lazily on the cubicle wall.  "You've been chipper and a half recently, mate.  Are we ever going to get to meet her, or are you still intent on keeping this one all to yourself?"

How did the conversation move from making Trevelyan paranoid to Ed’s love life? Eddie stared across at his colleagues, suddenly not liking the change in subject as it was directed at him and something he didn’t like to discuss especially at work. Other’s relationships could be discussed but not his! He wanted his nice and private and away from idle, bored auror gossip. If the trainees found out he had a heart…

“Who says there is a her?” The blonde auror retorted with a frown. His gaze suddenly dashed to a passing trainee who he decided to yell at.

“Oi! Sissy!” The wimply young boy who Ed was convinced would be killed in training soon stopped in his movement quickly enough to catch the coffee mug Pratt threw at him. “Best not taste like troll crap this time, lad!” The trainee made a sort of squeaking noise to resemble a feeble house elf before he practically ran off in the direction of the coffee machine.

“Those trainees looked way too excited to have just seen Rosier, Pad. Did they mention what they did for him, Radley?” With a now comfortable ease, Pratt lowered himself back into the luxury of his chair. “I’d never trust Bailey.”

One could always count on Eddie to be prickly about his life.  The man was private, oddly enough, though he probably didn't want to ruin a good thing.  If he talked about it too much, something he said would probably jinx it.  Not to mention all of the other things he had working against him, like his litter of a quidditch team and his face.  Of course, what Archer didn't expect was what Eddie said.

He couldn't help but snort.  "Not a her, eh?"  he raised his eyebrows, "Well, congratulations, boyo.  Finally glad you could come to terms with it."  He raised his mug in mock salute and snorted before shaking his head, sniggering to himself while taking a sip. 

Sometimes, just sometimes, his co-workers made things too easy.  At least, for him.  The kid who got a mug thrown at him... well.  That wasn't going to look good.  Archer gave Eddie a disapproving look, for show.  "Nice." 

Not that Eddie had any intention of staying on topic for too long.  Archer sighed, of course, being pushed back to the topic at hand.  Though, of course, it seemed like Eddie and Archer had some kind of malicious meeting of the minds - clearly, he was feeding off what Archer had said earlier, and it took everything in him not to smile. 

He retained his dignified, stern face, and glanced back over at the fetuses they called recruits.  "They said Bailey, not Rosier," he corrected Trevelyan - and then looked to Eddie who asked another question. 

Archer shrugged.  "They wouldn't say," he answered plainly, as though it were completely normal.  "Said they had to go in one of the drawers to find it - but they got it."  He took another sip of coffee.  "If nothing looks out of place though, maybe it was a paper or something." 

This was cruel.  Archer was having too much fun. 

"Any good cases for the day?" he looked between the two, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible. 

With a folder and a scroll tucked under his arm, a tall but slouched man dressed clad in black graced the Auror Headquarters with his presence. As per usual, the cigarette was there and of course, the grim expression on his aging face was there. Everyone at the Ministry knew well enough Rosier wasn't exactly a morning person and that it was wise to politely avoid him at this hour. But some had no choice. He ignored the zealous-looking trainees and some other...lowly staff and walked straight to the desk of Jonas Trevelyan.

After the incident in Knockturn Alley last month the relationship between the ginger Auror and his moody boss got even more complicated. The two of them never talked about it though - they never discussed Rosier's Shield Charm or other strange things that went on in the dress shop. Well how could they when they barely had time to focus on the important bit - the corpse! It was all over the Prophet of course and it made all of them look even more foolish than before.

He approached the three Aurors who seemed to be doing everything except what they were being paid for. With a slight frown, Rosier looked over at Radley who seemed to be making a joke about Pratt's love life. How uninteresting. Especially if he was still seeing Healer Thorpe - literally a fossil was more exciting than that woman. "Morning," was his simple greeting, even though it sounded like he was choking on something. His voice was so gravelly, but it didn't stop him from smoking.

Rosier wasn't sure what else this undoubtedly fascinating conversation was about, but it seemed someone's missing papers were involved. Nothing was ever organized in this bloody office. "Someone's been nicking your documents again, Trevelyan?" He asked, but not with any real interest. However, there was a hint of a small smirk on his face. "Wasn't me this time...In fact, I have something for you today! Can you believe my generosity?" He placed the folder of their Knockturn case unceremoniously in front of Trevelyan, not bothered about interrupting their morning at all.

For once, Adon had wanted to come in to work early.  Mostly to de-dinosaur the place, if necessary--before Jonas arrived.  Adon wouldn't mind if today went as smoothly for his partner as possible.  It was Jonas' birthday, after all.  Only Jonas didn't know he knew.  He knew, arlight.  What he didn't know, however, was who else knew.  Or, who else might know he knew.

Coming in early would raise eyebrows, however.  The Auror was most decidedly not a morning person (though one colleague had gone so far as to ask him, cool-demeanored, if he was any less grumpy at any time in the day.  Adon had provided the Auror with enough ammunition to safely draw his own conclusions). Morning was, quite evidenced, not his shining moments.  So, Adon had been determined to act normal: sleep in. Go in with two days' stubble and with hair that Adon liked to call "strategically tousled" when his mother made comment.  That was until 7:23 rolled around and Adon, lay, uncharacteristically, wide awake.  It was this morning that Adon realized that presentability took only 20 minutes to achieve--likely 20 minutes he would not bother with again, but still potentially critical information he would store away in that file of "useful information on how to be a grownup," to be promptly discarded. 

Dressed for the day, Adon decided that really, as far as Level Two went--or anyone on Level Two was concerned--"normal" was not only completely relative, it was likely wholly unattainable.  No need to act normal, then.

"Oi! Sissy!"  As Adon swung through the glass entry, he heard Pratt's voice call from the general vicinity of his and Jonas' cubicles.  He shook his head.  That likely did qualify as normal.  A wide-eyed, deer-struck sort of trainee--one Adon identified as particularly hazed by Pratty--staggered out of the aisle of cubicles.  Adon would find himself on the same course as the frantic trainee to the break room--in a moment; once he'd figured out Radley's whereabouts.

Uncharacteristically (Adon was a discerning individual, where patterns where concerned), Radley was not at his desk.  Which meant, in all likelihood, proactive, preemptive retaliation was necessary.  With a flick of his wand, and a muttered incantation, Adon had managed to adhere at least two stacks of paper, a quill, and Radley's desk chair exactly into place.  Adon didn't see any wrapping paper or loud banners yet, but it didn't mean the man didn't deserve it.

The sound of trainee's whispers returned Adon's attention to his original course: coffee.  It was Pratt's mistake for trusting neophytes with a matter as important as coffee, anyhow.  By Adon's standards, anyone in this place was bound to be a disappointment, even with Colburn gone.  Which was why he had his own morning ritual that included preparing his own mug of steaming Turkish coffee each morning.  Curious trainees had learned that this critical preparatory morning step doubled as quiet, "leave me the hell alone" time.  Which was why, after Adon had taken Pratt's mug from the trainee, when Adon looked at the remaining trainees, curiously loitering, he was not surprised, by how quickly they cleared the premises when meeting his eyes.

It was several minutes before Adon'd managed to leave the break room, two coffee mugs in hand and one levitating behind--each containing the warm, frothy coffee--each with a bit of cardamom, today.  Sidling over to Jonas' cubicle, Adon got a glance of exactly who also knew.  He gave a disapproving sigh as he held Pratt's mug out to the green-eyed Auror.  "Don't call him that; he's got a name, like the rest of them," he muttered with a roll of his eyes.  "Besides--he's a trainee--he can hardly have the required experience for decent coffee... Though I've not even seen you try."  The English's failing to make decent coffee was not only a character flaw, it was a severe handicap when it came with coping with the cold, grey, bleak, damp Island as a whole. 

He regarded Archer's presence next with a flat expression.  Three mugs, four Aurors.  He handed Jonas the levitating mug before taking a sip from the one in his hand.  "Sorry.  I did not realize this was a party."  Adon's eyes widened as he took in the presence of Rosier.  Not hesitating, he fluidly withdrew his mug offer from Pratt, handing it to Rosier instead. He observed them all from over the rim of his coffee mug as he took another sip.    This was vastly ruling out his "avoid idle chit chat" agenda of most mornings.

Leaning against the shaky cubicle wall as non-chalantly as one could, he tilted his chin in Jonas' direction.  "Maybe we should all have desks as impeccable as Senior Auror Radley's," Adon intoned expressionlessly.  "It doesn't look like someone could tuss up that place if they tried."  Frowning slightly, he looked towards Rosier, then the dropped file.  Next, expectantly at Jonas. "Morning," he added belatedly to his partner.

Zora rolled in with brisk sweep of her long red cloak, her curly black hair wild around her face like a mane.  The reflections of her mirror-lens sunglasses reflected the bright office lights.  With her came a gust of cold air she'd carried in from the frigid wet morning.

Like Bailey, Zora had been babysitting Trainees all night, but she returned after the long late shift in good cheer.  Word was this morning would come with some fun surprises at the expense of dear Auror Trevelyan.  Good lad, he was, and no one deserved unsolicited merriment more than he.

She approached the cluster gathered in the neighborhood of her desk - her partner Pratt was there, naturally (they were on different shifts this week on account of Zora's training duties), and so was Trevelyan and his partner the stuffy Adon Eleor.  And what a pleasent surprise - Radley was socializing as was head mugwump himself Cameron Rosier.

"Carry on, carry on," she said as she approached.  She peeled off her gloves and grinned at Jonas for perhaps a little too long.   "Morning, Trevelyan."

He looked calm.  He didn't know yet.  Good for him.

"Pratt! What did I say?"  she tossed something over the low cubicle wall from her side to his.  She laid eyes on him properly.  "Did you sleep here?"  he looked about the same as when she'd arrived for the late shift about 10 hours ago...

It didn't take a professionally trained navigator to notice that his coworkers were attempting to indiscreetly steer the conversation.  All the talk about trainees digging through his desk -- it was probably just Pratt and Radley trying to goad him, except there could have been a modicum of truth in it.  Jonas tried not to look like the thought was making him twitch.  Was there anything in the drawers? 

But the Auror Office was not about to let him contemplate the possibility in peace.  First came Rosier, cheerful as always and bearing gifts.  Luckily, Adon's arrival was enough to stave off any audible groan.  Jonas flashed his partner a quick, genuine smile as he reached for the helpfully deposited folder -- though the younger man's appearance made him do a visible double-take.  Adon Eleor, at work before 8 AM...not to mention Adon Eleor, looking clean shaven and moderately presentable...

If it was anyone else, he would have been instantly suspicious.  Pratt showing up and looking fit for a presentation to the Minister would have been immediate grounds to suspect that something imminent was in the works, as would Archer demonstrating any modicum of fashion sense or Rosier...well, as long as Rosier was properly wearing trousers and not attempting to murder him vis-a-vis a misfired Shield Charm, then Jonas was willing to take what he could get.  But it was hard to find anything suspicious when he had firsthand knowledge of the rock solid, unwavering loyalty that was at the heart of Adon Eleor.  Besides, it was Dreogan's birthday today, and birthdays seemed to be one of Adon's Things.  Perhaps he was simply planning to treat his elder brother to a nice lunch.

"Morning.  You going for the professional look today, mate?" he asked his partner nicely, transferring the cup of coffee to Pratt's desk so that he could leaf through the folder. 

The smiling, bespectacled face of the girl that he and Rosier had found murdered[1] in a back room in Knockturn Alley gazed back up at him, a memorial from happier times.  For a moment, Jonas felt an unpleasant tinge in his gut.  It had taken them days to identify the dead girl, a young witch who appeared to have disappeared off of her family's radar when she had eloped with her Muggleborn boyfriend a few months before.  Tracking her movements before her murder had so far presented dead end after dead end.  Her presumed beau still hadn't been found.

With a sigh, he flipped the case file shut.  "Yeah, I got one.  Want to trade?" he asked Radley cheerfully.  "Morning, Roh.  What's the update for today?" he asked, redirecting his attention to Rosier.  The normal hustle and bustle of the Auror office -- the camaraderie that they built here was a large part of what kept them all sane.  So long as Bailey hadn't really enlisted any trainees to dig through his desk, at which point the camaraderie would hopefully be enough to keep Jonas from committing manslaughter.  "I was going to keep trying to run down that bloke of hers -- unless you've happened upon something new?"

1.	Two Men in a Dress Shop...Again -- the body is tentatively tied to the Corpus Inversus murder case

People kept arriving. First the much unwanted Rosier made an entrance, looking as happy and pleasant as ever. Ed was rather adamant that Rosier needed to learn a sense of humour. Or perhaps steal one from one from the elves or slaves he no doubt had at home. The next person to arrive was also in dire need of a decent sense of humour. Adon Eleor took sensitive to a new level when it came to aurors. Crack a joke at his expense and Ed presumed he needed to have a tissue ready to quell the sobs from the Israeli.

But at least Eleor came bearing coffee! Ignoring the wizard’s comment, Eddie reached his hand out to take the offered coffee before Eleor’s move made him frown. The foreigner spotted their boss and quickly changed the direction the mug was heading! What kind of camaraderie was that?! Aurors first, quill pushing grumpy bastards last. He wasn’t even their direct superior; they didn’t need to suck up to Rosier. Not that Ed sucked up to Raynor; he quite openly disliked her and some (most) of her methods.

Methods like partnering him with interesting individuals.

Cue the newest interesting individual. A bag was thrown over the low wall and landed upon Ed’s desk. He took it in his weary grasp, eyeing it up before the witch asked him a stupid question and his gaze shot up quickly to the curly haired auror.

“No I bloody didn’t.” He gruffly responded. The stubble and scruffy shirt could be easily explained. If he wanted to entice Radley and Trevelyan to question him further on Viv, the witch Eddie denied even knowing to them. He was keeping his sexy French woman private as long as was physically possible.

With that put to rest, the blond auror opened the bag and frowned deeply. What the heck?

Slowly, very slowly, the auror’s gaze once more lifted to eye Roh with weary curiosity. He was very interested to know how this tied in with their running cases.
“Why have you given me a bag of toenails?” He paused. “And...Is that...nose hair?”

Zora had begun to peel off her gloves and drop off her things, when Ed commented about his bag.  That it wasn't his bag.

"What?" Her voice dripped with revulsion.  She needed only a small glance to confirm that it contained, indeed, exactly what Ed had said.  "That's not yours, then."

From time to time, Ed had the annoying habit of using her cubicle as overflow to his, or of leaving her things to lookout with a label or note to provide any context.  Once, he'd left a sack of onions on her desk, apparently as a contribution to some charity drive on Level Three... but this. This was new.

"Well it's not mine," she said with a wrinkled nose and glanced in again.  "Anyone missing... a dissolved... person?"