Nearly six months had passed since Archer and Tamis had… had words about her new job.  It wasn’t so much about the job, of course, it was far more related to the circumstances surrounding her accepting the position that had set him off, but he had the right to be upset. 

Not that he was anymore, of course.  Nor would he carry it conveniently to pull out later.  That was certainly not his intention.  It just so happened that he could and that was enough.  Besides, Tamis was settling into her new job and he actually found a little bit of relief that she wasn’t in the office every day and had other things to worry about.

It would be a long time since he could say he wasn’t working on the darkest of cases, but thefts of artifacts was a slightly different beast than terrorism.  Murder, was surely, involved, but not recently.  With paths going cold, it was just a thinking game now. 

Maybe it was for that reason he had picked a location somewhat near the museum for a date that had been scheduled three weeks in advance.  Tamis’ schedule was busy and Archer had finally managed to make absolutely sure that he could not be the first line of defense for an evening, in case trainees needed something or a larger case was brought in.  He figured he’d been a senior auror for over a year now, it’d have gotten easier.  In some ways it did… time management did not. 

But, he was sitting at a restaurant, waiting on a steak (Squeak would have been appalled at the choice) and there was alcohol near him in the form of red wine, since beer was not an acceptable choice this evening.  The bread that had been left on the table was also not a bad addition to the wait time, since these places while excellent for showing some effort on the part of planning a date, were notoriously slow.  As he used the tiny, odd butter knife, Archer had to grin at Tamis.  "While we're out, should we schedule our next date now?  You know, before your schedule fills for the next two months?"

Sharp grey eyes tracked their waiter as he beat a hasty retreat from refilling their wine glasses, narrowing at the corners in consideration. He seemed nervous; perspiring excessively at the temple while blatantly avoiding eye contact with the law enforcement officials he was serving. Was he spying on them for one of these rubbish news sources? She could see the headline now, ‘Raynor and Radley Celebrate Murderous Controversy over Wine.’

The truth was much simpler. One’s reaction would be similar, if Tamis Raynor kept glaring at them as if entertaining how best to politely dispose the evidence.

Archer’s voice pulled her back into present, all grins and self-imposed cheer.  He was trying. He always did.

She lifted an eyebrow at him, humoring the charm, but her lips remained pinched and tense at the corners, even as she leaned back in her chair.

“I might have an opening in December,” she said, saluting him with her wine glass before taking a sip. She was only half-joking.

Damage Control had been the name of the game for the past week. It was a Public Relations nightmare and Raynor had a very limited window to decide how to best present her image as the new authority on level two. That she could handle, Tamis Raynor knew how to be the Image.

It was this, right here, that she failed miserably at. The former Auror had spent so much of her life disassociating herself from the human experience that she was awkward and stilted whenever she did try. For some reason, Archer was willing to dig his heels in and bear through it with her – sometimes loudly… and angrily, puffing up to all six plus, burly feet to emphasis whichever social nicety she was currently lacking. 

So when he went through the painstaking effort of arranging an actual date, she went. Especially when she was not the only one out of her element. Wine and table settings composed of more than one type of fork and knife were her thing, not his.  The gesture had the desired effect; there was less tension hidden in her impeccable posture than there had been an hour ago.

She salvaged the miniscule butter knife from him, spreading several other pieces of bread and leaving them as a peace offering in the middle of the table. What Squeak did not know would not hurt her.

"This is going to get worse before it gets better," she lamented.

“Christmas doesn’t count,” Archer pointed out with a half smirk.  It was probably, sadly, one of the few days that was actually always open, and knowing Tamis she’d cram everythings she could into the days preceeding and following the holiday anyway.  She wasn’t the type to take time out of her schedule for something like a celebration, and though he knew this about her, he was still planned for Piddlehinton… with her.

While mum was still skeptical, Archer had no reservations.  He’d said so enough that he hoped it would finally sink in one of these days.   Sooner would a flobberworm fly, his middle brother would point out. 

This whole thing wouldn’t help matters.  People at home were eternally supportive of Archer, but they had something to say about everything and attacks on Level Two never fared well for anyone.  It was bad enough when people outside of the ministry did it, but when it seemed to be coming from the inside as well…

Archer shook his head: that was why they were not in the ministry this evening.  It was time to get away from thoughts of the office and focus on the fact that he had three forks in front of him and out of grace (or pity), Tamis had made more of the bread edible so he wouldn’t have to mess about with the tiny knife again. 

He wanted to feign ignorance to her comment about the situation – since he knew what she was referring to.  It was not the time for it.  “I know I’m a little rusty on a good date, Ray,” he began with a grin, “but way to bring it up…”