"Miss Carstairs, errr, could we bother you for a moment?" came a squeaky voice as soon as Skylar had bristled through the door of her office. With a frown she turned to look at the mousy faced girl and her lanky, glass-eyed companion. "Walk with me. Do I know you?" she said eventually with one last confused look towards the two. She was sure she knew them from somewhere... "Uhmm, we're with House-Elf Relocation. Banks and Clark? I—I give you weekly updates" the weasel-faced one with the high-pitched voice and—huh, she thought she was familiar. She nodded and turned a corner to hallway. "Well? What do you want?" Skylar asked curtly when the silence had dragged too long. "Uh, you see... I just wanted to say that we did our best and it is nobody's fault, really, it was an accident! But we'll make sure to remedy the situation immediately and—" the woman's voice came frazzled and climbed to an impossibly hysterical level and that's when Skylar stopped dead in her tracks making the two trailing behind her, bump into each other rather painfully from how it sounded.

"What did you do?" she asked slowly through her teeth, fists clenching at her sides, as she very slowly turned around to watch the two cowering employees. They looked at each other, their bodies betraying a level of panic she might've found amusing in other circumstances and after a few pokes and pinches and glares thrown between them, the tall lad took a big breath and straightened his back. "We—We lost the elf from Stafford. The—The one we were supposed to relocate this morning after his owner died without family? We were supposed to come by and pick him up and he... He just wasn't there. We looked! Of course we looked, but we weren't able to locate him anywhere and—"

"Shut up, just shut up right now, you boxhead" she exhaled loudly, resting her head in her hand, thumb and index finger rubbing at her temples. After a few moments of careful thinking in silence she raised her eyes to face the numpty little tossers. "You two are about as useful as the Official Gobstones Club up in Game and Sports, aren't you?" she mused, furrowing her eyebrows. "But that's perfectly fine because we still need a peasant class of primates to perform some menial tasks in the world, don't we?" she scowled, shaking her head. "Did you think about summoning him? No? Hmm?" she watched realization dawn upon their faces as their eyes only grew bigger and their heads shook slowly. "Thought so. Now, I need you lot to make like a tree and leave. Maybe do your job, while you're at it" she shooed them with her hand and turned on her heels, entering the main hall of the fourth floor.

"Has anybody seen that plonker, Greenberg?" she hollered with her hands on her hips, looking around with a displeased expression. "Not only is he a gormless berk but my coffee tastes like a bloody mountain troll relieved himself in it" Sky almost growled under her breath, turning around swiftly to collide with someone that was running, making for a particularly violent collision. "Oi!" she grumbled, holding her shoulder possessively. "Are you twelve?! Do we need 'no running in the hallways' posters now?" she continued, eyes still downcast to her shoulder, looking for injury. "Ministry of Magic my backside, more like Ministry of Funny Walks" she kept on muttering, without paying much attention to the dimwit.

For the first time in a long time, Margo was actually hustling.  She didn’t normally put forward an… exemplary effort in the office, but she had some envelopes to deliver and even more than that, she was carrying another application to go back into the field.  The fifteenth this month, actually. 

Every single one was denied, but she’d vowed that she’d get back into that field.  After being able to get the eggs back without suffering an injury it was almost like a (pardon the lameness) fire was lit under her and she wished despearately to be out of her cubicle and back doing things with dragons.  Even if she was only allowed near the wee ones, that’d be better than sitting at a desk.

The prospect was enough that Margo was dashing through the hall and she, of course, wasn’t watching where she was going, which for her resulted in the swift and horrible crash between two people.  A grunt escaped her as she stumbled backward, falling into the wall of someone’s cubicle as all of the envelopes in her hand (a sizable bunch) flew up like very large, sepia snowflakes.  Whoever the someone was let out a sound that could have rivaled the shrill cry of a mandrake and Margo grimaced, shaking her head – high pitched sounds never did well with her. 

Of course, whoever she’d bumped into had the exact reaction most people did – resulting in a rather creative string of insults, and for a moment, it didn’t register as anything different than usual until Margo lifted her eyes, brushing her sleeves off (more for show than anything else) and frowned.  “Couldn’t pay me to be twelve again, Carstairs,” she snorted, before letting out a heavy sigh. 

“Now look at that,” she muttered, motioning to the floor, “all my hard work!” and she awkwardly bent down, maneuvering her metallic joint in order to get at the envelopes that had settled on the floor. 

"Oh. It's you" Skylar said in the most monotonous tone, so flat and cold one might argue it had not been of a human nature. And by ruddy Morgana, what the bloody hell was she wearing? What, she couldn't pay for a bit more density to that... shirt? And the leather. Was it a prerequisite in dealing with dragons? How was that appropriate Ministry attire? Then again, this was Beasts, so Sky wasn't really expecting much.

"Yes, I imagine you must've had a rough childhood" Sky continued, just as unimpressed, slightly raising an eyebrow. Rough for her poor parents, what with the temper and the talking and the distinct lack of propriety... The bemoaning and following awkward movements ticked Sky, so with a loud click of her tongue and jerky wave of her wand the scattered papers gathered themselves into a neat pile, levitating at Margo's eye level.

That was hard work? She thought on the piles of papers and dossiers currently adorning her desk, chairs and floors and found herself rolling her eyes. "Still stuck behind a desk, Amherst?" Sky asked all mirth and sweetness. Truth be told, she didn't care what Spectre did with his Division, but when the entire department was understaffed, Sky didn't understand why the hell would he keep a field employee behind a desk.

“Well, you know the Amhersts: always a warm bunch,” she joked – a little.  At some point, some time ago, almost like a distant dream, Skylar had been a warm and welcoming person. Obviously, the whole pureblood thing had thrown them in some circles together and Margo’s family was not known for their warm fuzzy feelings.  They were old blood, annoying, pretentious… not Margo at all.  Then, on top of that the beasts and beings divisional split, which she knew was an issue for the woman: Margo didn’t pay much mind to it, she assumed some of it probably came from things like Goblins and Werewolves, and that was not a conversation she intended to get into. 

Hell, she couldn’t even think about werewolves without wanting to hit something. Mostly a bottle.

Taking a deep breath, Margo grabbed the papers out of the air and grinned, figuring why the hell should she be miserable when Skylar was doing such a fantastic job of it for her.  She fiddled with the papers, making sure her envelope was there (screw the rest) and let her shoulders drop and muscles relax when she saw it in the pile.

A frown decorated her face for a moment before she tapped the envelope.  “Putting my fifteenth request in for the month.  If anything, I'll cow Balfy into it soon enough,” she smirked at the other woman, knowing the question wasn’t really supposed to be supportive, but Margo would try to take it that way.  “Still bossing tea boilers,” a ‘nice’ intern term, “around, eh?”   

Sky raised a curious eyebrow at Amherst's comment about her family, only to be followed by a knowing little chuckle. She also knew a thing or two about the warmth of old, self-important pureblood families... That was only one of the reasons she now barely tolerated her own family. She and Amherst had frequented the same circles while growing up, but that seemed like a lifetime ago and not one that Skylar had any inclination to go back to.

The division Head tucked her wand back into her sleeve, as soon as the papers were retrieved, with a little hmm at Amherst's grin for which she could honestly see no purpose to. "That seems a little... extreme" Skylar commented, devoid of any expression. On one hand if she were in Spectre's position, having to repeatedly analyze the same request for fifteen times–well. Let's just say that, shockingly, for the first time, she felt something akin to pity for the beasts Head. On the other hand, she couldn't decide if she should admire Amherst's persistence or point out that insanity meant doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results... The latter seemed more likely.

Skylar cleared her throat and absently patted at a nonexistent crease in her robes, "You could always try going over Spectre's head. Morgana knows the entire department is understaffed" she said through clenched teeth, knowing full well how completely inept the entire department was being run at the moment. "Keeping you behind a desk when all divisions lack field agents is a shite decision." She looked away, uncomfortable with admitting to any kindness.

At Margo's next comment, Skylar turned an icy glare towards the woman and narrowed her eyes. "That bumbling idiot is barely up to the task of making coffee, I imagine his attempt at tea would most probably poison the entire floor" she said seriously, eyes scanning the room for the cause of all of Sky's worries - Greenberg. "Where is that tosser, anyway?" she mumbled angrily. With a shake of her head and a long sigh, she turned her attention back to Amherst, eyeing her intensely.

Her gaze quickly flitted down to Margo's leg before fixing her face again. "Having your request endorsed by a certified Healer would give you more chances at getting back in the field" Skylar said in a softer voice, her eyes full of meaning. "I might have a contact at Mungo's that would be more... sympathetic to your quandaries" she finished, not looking at Amherst and anxiously fiddling her fingers. "If you're interested, stop by my office when you're done or leave a note with my secretary. Just don't send a memo" she added, lips in a tight line. Wouldn't want the plonkers to intercept that particular plane, would they?

The idea of going over Balfour’s head was a suggestion Margo didn’t think she’d hear from Skylar.  It wasn’t exactly something even Margo was keen on, despite her general belief that asking for forgiveness was better than asking for permission.  But, post the last experience she had with that had not gone over so well and now it was all about just wearing down all resources for patience that he had. 

She hoped that she’d be able to do it sooner rather than later.  “Everything is extreme with dragons,” Margo grinned – perhaps a little too proud of herself for the quality of the comment – but hey, she wasn’t exactly on her game at the moment. 

She just wanted to go into the field and do what she loved to do.  Wasn’t that the goal of finding a career you wanted to actually do for your whole life?  “Tell me about it,” she shrugged to Skylar’s assessment of the situation.  Of course it was shit.  With everything going on, Margo couldn’t be the person stuck inside, but she was at least helpful in some regard.

Unlike the ‘tosser’ that Skylar was looking for again all of a sudden.  Margo jerked a thumb toward the corridor the bumbling little dude had practically tripped down after being yelled at.  “That way,” she swung her head to follow the direction and then blinked at the sudden realization of just what Skylar was saying. 

Margo felt a sort of switch go off in her mind.  Sky’s suggestion was… brilliant.  “Ah!” she practically hopped up and down, but restrained herself enough to put up some level of ‘I am an adult in a respectable place’ front.  “I’ll be sure to drop by before the end of the day,” she nodded eagerly, “You are brilliant when you’re not shouting!” Margo laughed and clapped her hands – no care for the papers that she’d been concerned about before.  “You’re a lifesaver.  And, as a tip: Johnson with ghosts is an ace coffee jockey.” 

Sky slowly, ever so slowly arched her eyebrow while the rest of her face remained completely impassive. "There's no extreme like raging bitch Veela extreme" Skylar replied, corner of her lips quirking up into a smirk. Dragons, Veelas... same thing, different anatomy.

She turned her head towards the direction Margo pointed, narrowing her eyes, hoping to spot Greenberg. Some disaster happening, the roof caving in, magic going haywire... something to give away the idiot's position. Left unsupervised for too long that creature could wreak havoc for the entire Ministry. Merlin help her, the only reason she had not hung him by his–fired him was because his father kept donating for their department, year after year, and was quite a nice man. Skylar couldn't possibly understand what the bloody hell had went wrong with his son. Surely a changeling.

"You do that" Sky said, crossing her arms and turning to watch Margo, calculating look in her eyes. At the shouting comment, Sky pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows. One more word and she might just retract her offer. "I'll make sure to remember that when I'm in desperate need of caffeine. However, you might try Alohomocha on Diagon for top quality coffee products" she said turning around to go after Greenberg.

"Good luck with your... boss" she threw behind her just as she was leaving. Wouldn't bode well to call him for what he was in the middle of the hallway. Circe, Spectre... She shook her head and sped her steps, murderous look in place, to find that idiot.