“It is a wonder,” Primrose announced as she burst through the door of the office with a rather unnecessary and overly dramatic sigh, “how some of those people,” she realized she used the term lightly here in reference to her colleagues, “have managed to live this long.”  Honestly, for the most part, the other members of the legislature were older than her and she couldn’t see how they hadn’t died. 

All of this liberal ‘wait and see’ nonsense was going to be the death of someone – if not them immediately, then someone else.  She didn’t understand how people couldn’t see that.  So, once the meeting had adjourned for lunch (another thing that was sure to kill them), Primrose had left the chamber and made quick work of a walk out of the werewolf wing and straight into the Spirit division. 

It wasn’t a typical destination for anyone who didn’t work there – spirits generally served to give people uneasy feelings, but it was not for ghosts or poltergeists that Prim had come for.  Generally, most people found Primrose (at best) annoying or (at worst) grating, but Alberic understood her to some extent.  It was a mutual feeling, after all, since it was no secret that Grimm was not exactly everyone’s cup of tea in the ministry. 

So, when she’d barged into his office, she knew he would understand her distaste for others, and even more than that, she knew he would understand her disdain for the people she worked for.  Without invitation, since she continued past the threshold and to the seat across his desk, dropping herself into it in a way that might not have fit the ladylike look she tried to maintain. 

Crossing her leg under her long skirt and let out a deep sigh as she adjusted to be comfortable in the seat.  “I think I could run the legislature by myself and we’d all be better off for it,” she added with a huff, before remembering (vaguely) manners.  “Any complaints on your end to share?”

"Hm, well," Alberic said, habitually reaching out for his tea as he spoke.  It was Pavlovian at this point.  It gave him something to do other than speak when he was obliged to. 

"Death can be pickier than most would think.  She may not even want to deal with them."  He knew that that comment would please her enough that his input would not be overly needed for about another 2 minutes.

He was wrong, but it was not by much.  Miss Woolfolk threw herself upon his visitor's chair with such careless abandon he had to cringe slightly--on her behalf.  He intentionally chose the visitor's furniture for its hard edges. Still, she had enough natural grace that she seemed to have found a way to settle.  She was on to her next topic.  Or rather, reaching the main point of that rather pointless prelude.

“I think I could run the legislature by myself and we’d all be better off for it."

"You ought to, then," he said off-handedly.  He scratched an item off of a list and reached over to the far side of his desk for a sealed set of papers, breaking the seal.  He frowned as she fielded a question directly in his path.  He looked up from the parchment to regard her directly for the first time since she'd arrived.  "No complaints on my end." Complaining implied that you let someone get the better of you.

He gave the best of himself to no one.

"Care to elaborate?" he asked.  This--this comment--would earn him at least 5 minutes.  That being said, he set the papers down to regard her from across the desk.  Woolfolk could be a lot of sturm und drang, but it usually came to a point at the end.

 “Well, perhaps you best get in touch with her and tell her she needs to lower her standards – as there are quite a few who are simply waiting on baited breath to be taken,” she sniffed at his comment and again, adjusted a little in the terrible chair.  It was horrifically ugly, even Primrose knew that (and she did not have a flare for interior decorating). 

She supposed though, were anyone to analyze the office, it made complete sense with everything else.  Against the backdrop of bottles, a raven, and a skull, it was like some scene out of a gothic novel.  It said more about him than perhaps his monotonous and monosyllabic speech did.  Though, she supposed white walls might also fit that bill. 

“Would that I could,” she returned with a sigh, propping her elbow on the hideously hard armrest of that terrible chair and then put her chin upon it, trying to be careful of not cutting her chin on any of her rings.  “But a coup d’etat is rather premature in my career and I fear I haven’t gained a critical mass to assume the position unquestioned.”  It wasn’t as though she’d thought about that before… at all. 

Pursing her already almost perpetually pouted lips, she breathed out of her nose.  No complaints?  “What a lucky little world you live in over here, then,” she lamented with a dramatic sigh.  She knew she had a flair for it, but honestly- not a single one?  She knew, for a fact, that Alberic disliked idiots as much (or more) than she did. 

She couldn’t dwell on it though when he asked for elaboration, because that put her completely back in the place she had come in with.  Her shoulders dropped and she sighed.  “We’ve been spending all morning debating regulations for non-ministry housing during the full moon. I, of course, think we should be inspecting far more frequently – what with all of the accidents that occur because of a lack of proper sealing or inappropriately constructed safe rooms…” her nose wrinkled as she thought about the other panel members, “and then you have Hubert Figgins – bloody walrus with that broom under his nose,” an aside that was entirely unnecessary, but happened anyway.  “He brings up some statistic from eight months ago and everyone is eating out of his pudgy hand.” 

“Then, before I could say anything to counteract his statement,” she continued easily, “it was decided we’d adjourn for lunch.  As though the conclusion was it was unnecessary.  I didn’t even get to propose that we do away with non-ministry run safe houses in general.”  She rolled her head back and around before returning her gaze to Alberic.  “It’s truly appalling.”   

Alberic shook his head contemptuously at the remark.  One did not command Death.  Or, more accurately: "You don't tempt Death," he told her crisply.  Then, more quitely, "Death tempts you."

He gave a chuckle at her reservations.  "You can do anything, if you wait long enough and work long enough, I assure you.  And you have the potential for it, to be sure."  A ghost of a smile. Then the mentoring tone as he leaned forward more, eyebrows raised.  "But the first thing you have to do is to disregard the questions."  There would always be people who doubted you. Who got in the way.  Asking questions like:

"Uncle Alberic, please can I have my nose back?" a whining little grub of a boy.
An overly confident Gryffindor. "You think you run this castle now that you're Head Boy, Grimm?"
"What did you say to me, boy?"  An angry father, at the dinner table.
Or even
"Will you saynothing?"  A love-lorn mother.
Or, more recently: "Can you show no mercy?"
Maybe, someday soon, it would be: "Please, can I have my soul back?"

Like all questions, these didn't really matter. You didn't take a poll when taking power.  You didn't take a vote.  The only thing you took was what you wanted.  No questions asked.

Maybe Prim would learn in time.  The simple fact of the matter was, she cared what others thought of her.  That was why she wanted the power.  And that was, most likely, why she would never get it.  Not in the way she wanted.

"Then was anything decided?" he asked mildly, smiling with with a slight fondness at her hyperbolic distaste.  It was as though she expected people to be pleasant.  And it was as though she'd learned nothing in the time they'd know each other. "Because if not, there's an opportunity, there."

If Prim were not learning something about filtering herself, she might have waved her hand at his assertion about tempting death, but before she could follow through with the action, her mind caught up with her: he was the expert in the arena after all, no matter how ridiculous she thought it might be.  So, rather than flicking her hand in dismissal, she took the opportunity to push a blonde lock from her cheek and then rest it back in her lap.   

“I dare say,” she smirked, after his advice.  “You sound like a true optimist.”  She supposed anyone listening in on the conversation might have assumed there was some crisis of confidence going on – that Primrose was seeking the valued opinion of someone who would tell her she was alright and it would all be fine.  This advice, however, was from one person who craved power to the next, and Primrose was fairly sure the room was not lacking in confidence.  It was probably seeping out from under the door. 

The only crisis would be if they clashed.  Prim was not fool enough to think, however, that she would come up the winner in such a clash – as much as she’d like to be.   

Letting out a deep breath from her nose, she considered what Alberic said.  Her jaw clenched a little.  “Not necessarily,” she admitted somewhat reticently.  She’d been consumed with her frustration about the early ending and that she’d been cut off and they hadn’t considered her point at all, especially in the face of old information that the fact a vote hadn’t even happened yet was a small detail. 

She didn’t want to entirely concede however, and would never suggest that he was truly right.  “I know the fight isn’t over,” she informed him, “I’m just frustrated with the lack of… urgency.”  That was the word she was looking for.  “It’s not as though resolutions come up every day,” she pointed out matter of factly, “and it begs to question the purpose of a legislature that is perfectly fine with the status quo.” 

She lifted her chin a little and raised her eyebrows.  “What would you suggest?”

"Optimistic that the odds are in our favor."

Alberic gave a shrug as he considered her dilemma.  "Create the urgency, then."  He tilted his head as he considered, then bounced it back and forth, contemplating.  "I'm not saying you need to be the one to create the reason for urgency.  Just bring it to the forefront.  That whole werewolf fighting debacle... When there's blood in the water, sharks feed, but government is left to clean up."

He looked at her intensely from across the table, "And it sounds like the werewolves are needing a good cleaning."

There were very few people Primrose considered worthy of her admiration and worth the taking of their advice. Alberic had a mind that she envied. He seemed to find all weaknesses and exploit them.  He didn't seem to be boggled down by passion or frustration, he just solved problems. That was the sort of person she wished to be, but she bogged down by an almost infuriating sense of pride and outrage that it seemed near impossible.

So, she would try to keep Alberic in her good graces for as long as he would be useful. And as long as he could probably stand her. That was he tricky bit when another person was involved.   It was so much easier with the animals.  If she didn't crave some external recognition for her superiority, she might have a made a career of that instead.

At least she had purpose here and Alberic's suggestion was one she could definitely exploit.  "I knew I came here for a reason," her previously sour expression brightened. Though, for Primrose this was not necessarily a sweet sort of bright, more like reinvigorated.  "Perhaps, with that knowledge I have my linchpin."  As her mind started to turn, Primrose came up with more ideas she could put on the table.

"I am wondering," she looked at him with curious eyes, "would it be presumptuous to add another resolution to my proposal? I see the benefit of conservatism in this case.  Particularly to boost my successful resolution numbers... But, there's the principle of striking while the iron is hot."  She paused, " and with luck, it shouldn't be hot for very long."

"It may.  It depends on the resolution, I would imagine," Alberic said cautiously.  "Can you anticipate what they would object to?  And what might win them over?"  Aside from the typical bribery-threat combination that was so winning amongst politicians, the cake offering was usually enough to lure the unsuspecting in.  Hiding the real matter of the concept could be concealed well enough in the wording.

People would sign off on nearly anything for the promise of cake.

"If they've unified their voice and seem set on it, let them win you over--or think they have.  And reroute their opinion from there.  They seem simple souls--those sorts don't seem to question, once they've made up their minds.  But the are also the sort to not realize when they've been led subtly down the path..."

He forced her to think.  She supposed that’s what she liked about coming to this office to talk through things.  Sure, Alberic didn’t necessarily reciprocate her… generally talkative strategy, but the questions he asked were pointed and concise.  She needed to think through what, exactly, she was looking for and what would keep it from happening. 

“They’ll object to swift action,” she knew that much and pouted her lips.  “Perhaps if I could lace the parchment with the scent of a good port and cigars, I might have a chance…” she laughed lightly before shaking her head, “but seriously… a gradual proposal might be more opportune currently.”  Pursing her lips, she tapped her fingernails onto the top of his desk. 

He was right – she had to be subtle, and though she was gaining a little bit of support, a little bit of clout would go a long way if she used it well.  “Perhaps,” she clicked her tongue on the top of her mouth, “A resolution for an inquiry,” she lifted her eyebrows, “an investigation would seem mild enough against the former offers I’ve put on the table. It’d look like a concession, but it just gives time to… gather evidence.” 

Perhaps a bit more than that, but Prim would leave that out.  The things unsaid were much more powerful in the long run, at least that’s something else she was learning.  “Then, in a couple month’s time, when the resolution has run its course and the investigation provides fruitful information… then they’ll be backed against the wall, so to speak.” 

Alberic nodded along to her proposals.  With patience, he watched as she pieced her actions together, knowing her to be the sort of creature that only started to build upon a plan with the speaking of it.

But Alberic had little complaint.  Her actions seemed in-line with what he had been angling towards and, as such, appeared sensible. 

And, if they did not go well--well, then.  It was hardly as though it could be traced back to this private conversation.  Giving a satisfied smile, Alberic nodded once more, returning his attention to his tea--and then, to the papers in front of him.

A few sentences in, Alberic could feel a certain tension, palpable in the air.  He glanced back up, towards Prim.  She was still here, after all.  "It seems as though you've settled upon something."

A rush of feathers brought the break in conversation he needed.  A raven with sable wings fluttered in, perching on a stoop behind the desk, with a thin strip of parchment tied to his talons.  It cawed once, twice, three times until Alberic rose and uncurled the parchment from the uncomfortable bird, petting it between the eyes delicately in thanks. 

He would save that for later.  It was not polite to read letters in front of company.

"It seems as though you've settled upon something."

Alberic was the sort of person who thrived on economy of words, and that, to Prim, meant that they had settled upon what she would be doing.  Granted, he would get no credit in the implementation of said plan – if it went well, she wanted it to be all hers and she wouldn’t know that until it happened, so she would just have to risk the failure.  It wouldn’t be the first she’d risked in her life. 

With that in mind, Primrose pushed herself out of the dreadfully uncomfortable chair and smiled (closed lipped, of course).  “I have,” she nodded decisively and walked toward the door. 

She had little else she needed, and she needed to get back to chambers before the others returned.  Being early would give her a chance to get her ideas organized and presentable.  Plus, one of those birds came in and as much as Prim was an animal lover, she had no spare love for birds.  It was her sign to go, particularly as Alberic paid it more mind than she’d seen him pay anything! 

Stopping at the door, Primrose turned back toward him for a moment: “Thank you, Grimm.  Your advice is always much appreciated.”  True enough, and a solid departure comment, as there was little else for her to talk about with him.  A curt nod was the last bit of communication she gave before fully exiting the office, closing the door behind her and heading back toward the legislature.