It wasn't too often that Johann made a visit to the first floor of the Ministry. It was altogether too quiet for his liking, with its thick purple carpet which muffled the noise of footsteps. The only noise that was almost inescapable like a heartbeat were the small army of people creating leaflets and documents with advice.

Rosier was back, this was all very good news. As much as Johann heard good things about Admete Brown, Rosier's sucessor in the role of Head of Magical Law Enforcement, he had always got on well with Rosier, and enjoyed the moments where they could have a proper conversation. They had tended to be brief, but at least it had always been a genuine conversation than a brushing off, or a politeness. Now Rosier was up here on the first floor, an ivory tower of sorts.

The carpet was still thick and plush beneath his shoes as ever. Never a spot on it either. Johann's eyes flicked around the passing undersecretaries and read the plaques on the mahogany office doors with curiosity. Which one of this number had amended his personal file to state unreliable? It still irritated him.

Finding the appropriate door, Johann rapped upon it and paused, waiting to hear the voice from within, pretending for everyone outside that he had a good, real reason to go and bother Cameron, rather than this rather more loose interpretation that he might be useful to counter sign a couple of documents that IMC and MLE had been involved with together over six months ago which were about to be archived as no further action to be taken. It was mundane, and quite honestly, usually the interns were lumbered with it, but Johann was restless, and he needed a better excuse than the three he'd considered by his arrival that morning.

"Morning," Johann grinned as he slipped into the office and let his eyes take in the space. "Ooh, posh office on purple carpet, I figure this is moving up in the world, Rosier? Minister's job next, right?" He cracked a broad, boyish grin and stepped forward into the office properly.

"How are you, how was your escape? What could possibly have made you come back?"

Just a few questions, hmm?

It was a bit difficult to get used to the new job and also the new office. It took him so long to get accustomed to his previous office on Level Two that now he almost mourned after it. This office was an improvement however - it was even more ostentatious (if such a thing was even possible), with more gilded details and a lovelier carpet. Purple definitely wasn't his color, but he was sure he could get used to it.

There were still some boxes around the desk, filled with Rosier's old books and folders from Level Two. The place was slightly unorganized and messy, but it was nothing compared to the usual post-apocalyptic mood his work space usually sported. The new Senior Undersecretary himself was under his desk (again), this time attempting to fix a drawer which was stuck. Like most of the Ministry-owned furniture, this antique desk would probably be more useful displayed in a museum. Rosier was never good at fixing delicate things with magic - his forte was destruction, so this took him a while. Concentrated, with his reading glasses on (which made him look even grumpier and even older) he was sort of squinting while red sparks flew out of his wand, but the drawer remained stuck. Gritting his teeth, he gave up for now and sat back into his armchair. He was about to bother someone to make him tea, but then he heard a knock on his door. Now what?

He did not expect to see Johann Storm marching in, so this was a pleasant surprise. Rosier got up to greet his colleague, smiling back at him. "Don't let the gilded chandeliers deceive you - I'm pretty sure the worms are eating this office slowly from within. And Merlin help us if someone other than you even thinks of such a thing..." Rosier was not Minister material, he was sure of it. He liked working from the side, he sort of enjoyed being in a small shadow, never in direct spotlight. He did not like what happened to Robards, or even Annwyl, so he was content with his current position. Even his ambition had its limits.

"I'm very well actually, and yourself?" Rosier asked while offering Johann a seat. Maybe he still had that nasty sunburn from Morocco, but Rosier actually looked better than before his trip. "What made me come back?" he stopped for a second, as if thinking about it. Being in a foreign country with no money left was pretty bad, but he had to admit he also missed London...a bit. "I realized I left the kettle on, of course," he said, as if he knew what a kettle was and how to use it. "What's new in the world of Wizarding linguistics then?"

"Left the kettle on. I can't quite believe you got bored travelling." He shook his head, "Its meant to be boring here in London, not out there." He gestured with both hands to the world in general, one hand still clasping the paperwork he'd brought in, which flapped with the gesture, but remained pinched in his fingers.

"As if you're interested in the doldrums of language," Johann teased, straightening out the parchment, "but if you insist, its all been legal irritations at the moment, becoming all to familiar with the legal experts in the Department as a result." He gave a shrug, not minding the staff, but some of the work was tedious with the long response time from overseas.

"Its not the gilded chandeliers anyhow, I confess the carpet transfixes me of all things." Johann was peering at his feet a moment and then up to Cameron with a shrug.

"But let me guess, the desks are as awful on this floor as they are on mine? That seems about right for the British Ministry." The German one of course was highly efficient, ha, not quite.

Johann gave his friend's desk a suspicious look.
"I had a drawer sealed shut for the first month, turned out I had to tickle the keyhole. I swear the person who sat at my desk before me had the most unusual sense of humour, that and the way it occasionally flings open a drawer when a particular irritating colleague stands beside it, but I'm happy for it to fire a drawer into a kneecap on my behalf."

"Not bored, only nostalgic," he said with a smirk, thinking that maybe even the word 'nostalgic' wasn't quite right. He missed many things - yes, but ever since he came back to London his old life suddenly slapped him in his face. Some things that happened were nice though, some things horrid and some outright bizarre. Admittedly, it was nice to escape for a while, even if he felt extremely guilty about it and undeserving of this office from time to time. 

Rosier wondered what was that document Johann brought here, but said nothing yet - probably only more paperwork for him to sort out, as per usual. When Johann mentioned the legal staff on Level Five, Rosier thought of Evangeline who stopped by his office the other day, so he refrained from commenting again. "Yes, the carpet is quite lovely even though I'm not a big fan of purple," he looked down at the floor and smiled a bit - it was much nicer than on Level Two, but for some reason he preferred the decor down there.

"Yes, the drawer is stuck, but something's quite odd here..." he glanced back to his desk again, then frustratingly pulled the ornate handle on the old piece of furniture. Nothing at all happened. "They brought this desk in from somewhere else because I requested a bigger one - so who knows how old this thing actually is," he fixed his glasses which were now slightly askew and then looked at his colleague. "This one has no keyhole though." Johann's anecdote sounded amusing, but it could hardly help in this situation.

"I'm not even sure where to start here - other than maybe blowing up the desk into tiny pieces," he smirked again, as if making a joke, but in reality that statement was not far from the truth. "Any ideas?"

"This one has no keyhole though."

"Pity." Johann remarked, and gave a shrug, leaning to one side to peer at what Rosier was up to.

"I'm not even sure where to start there - other than maybe blowing up the desk into tiny pieces, any ideas?"

Johann mirrored the humoured look.
"But then you'd have lots of tiny pieces of desk, and back two squares." But, relenting, not that desks were at all his forte, or anywhere on his radar other than his own taking umbrage on Hamilton drawing near, Johann stepped around the side of the desk cautiously, eyeing up the drawer in question.

"All the usual unsticking, unlocking charms exhausted, correct?" He asked Rosier, raising a hand in defence, "I know you're not an idiot, but one has to ask." His own wand remained in his jacket, undrawn, and instead he crouched down and ran his fingertips over the wood and the edge, and then reached tentatively round the side of the set of drawers, looking thoughtful, but ultimately drawing no conclusion. 

"Have you asked it nicely?"

Rosier nodded in answer to Johann's question about unlocking charms and such. He smiled at the 'idiot' remark - maybe he wasn't one in this situation, but he remembered what happened last time when he attempted to defend himself with a Shield charm. Thankfully, Johann was not familiar with that anecdote. He trusted Trevelyan not to spread the rumor that the Senior Undersecretary almost crushed the building down due to his carelessness.

This time, Rosier laughed. "I haven't," he said honestly. He was many things, but mostly not a patient wizard and not someone who enjoyed conversations with his furniture. However, stranger things have happened. "Erm, feel free to...ask away. Don't think I've talked to a desk whilst sober," he looked at the drawer, then at Johann carefully as if expecting something disastrous to happen. He was probably just a little too paranoid.

Looking down, he knocked on the wooden drawer, almost saying something like 'Hello, anyone here?', but quickly restraining himself. That was something his deranged nephew would do - Rascal enjoyed conversations with the bathtub and the tea set. In fact, as long as it was an inanimate object it qualified for an intellectual debate. Just thinking about Rascal made him nauseous.

The knuckles of Rosier's hand echoed dully inside the drawer which resisted like an unspeakable to reveal its inner secrets. Was it possible to feed furniture veritaserum? Did unspeakables carry around an antidote to such a potion if one existed, on the off chance of espionage?

"What are the chances," Johann remarked, still crouched beside the offending piece of furniture, contemplating the manner in which one might address varnished wood, "that within this drawer is something utterly mundane?"

He raised his head and turned it just enough to regard Cameron with the anticipation of a man about to embark on a birthday treat. In Johann's mind's eye the silent wood before them held untold secrets - crumbling maps where treasure lay, bottles of hazardous potions, the wand of a famous wizard long deceased, classified papers...

"Good morning," Johann addressed the grain as if it were an honoured foreign dignitary, his head swivelling back to put eyes front, "please would it be possible to open the drawer?"

Without a mouth to speak with, muscles to generate an expression or eyes to meet levelly with the academic wizard, the desk's response was simple, smooth but entirely ungenerous and incomprehensible.

"I see," Johann replied, his brow furrowing slightly above his black eyebrows which tilted in question, "desk, please open the drawer, Master Rosier would very much like you to," he lifted a hand to Rosier above him in a gesture of introduction between owner and furniture, "he'll be sure to apply beeswax polish to you every week, and oil your runners - despite the expression he wears as I promise you this."

The response came yet again, and Johann looked up once more to Rosier.
"Promise," he insisted firmly, as if assuring the work of a skilled carpenter that its owner would carry out the work of a house elf would make a difference, but Johann was sure the handle had just twitched like an amused eyebrow out of the corner of his eye.