"It's 3 o'clock," Riordan said, stood in the doorway of Zamperia's office.  The man had gotten back today; he wondered if this visit was too soon.  Crossing the threshold, he set a decanter of brandy on Mihai's desk.  "You need this more than I do."  It was a well-known bit of gossip that Riordan was prone to drink from time to time.  Level Two had seen enough turnover--it was hardly enough to raise brows or significant complaint.  Besides, the use of alcohol was almost always tactical.  It did wonders for bridging gaps, loosening tongues, winning over good will, or in this case: just forgetting for a moment the creeping pace of a shit day.  Days filled with petty nothings while you tried to wrangle in the enormity of the world crashing in.

Too heavy for 3 o'clock by a long shot.

He settled himself, without room for comment or argument, but with a bit of a grunt.  "Not that I won't help myself to a little."  He leaned forward, pulling two brandy snifters from his sleeve.  An obviously practiced sleight-of-hand.  He poured, sliding one lightly across the heavy wood desk before taking the other in hand, pressing his back comfortably against the chair.  He frowned a little, swirling the contents idly before taking a sip.

There was no point in asking how he was.  There was nothing else he could be.  And he looked it, too.  The man looked like he'd aged 10 years in the past week.  The effects were there before, too.  More grey hairs, frowns.  But now the man looked in sore need of... Riordan didn't even know what. Only one word came to mind: 'respite.' 

Rioran doubted there was any to come.  Life was unrelenting.  Still, there was some comfort--a sort of uneasy rest, even in this: Riordan's life was not as dismantled as this man's.  A double-heaped portion of sorrow, within weeks.  First his daughter, now his brother.  Better Zamperia than than Riordan.  Though it was not a mutually exclusive contract.  Life could fuck them all over in the end--and probably would. She was a bitch like that.

The past few weeks-- no-- this entire year had been rough on him. Now, Mihai was a man who could handle stress-- but stress of the job was a different kind than work stress. He reveled in the latter, but the former was what gave him restless nights. Mihai had spent the last week mourning with his family and tripling up on security at their homes (as well as his own). He'd left for Portugal as soon as he felt the burning where Emilian's name belonged on his shoulder, in invisible ink. It was still red, and the welts showed up in his brother's own hand. Mihai didn't know how long it'd last, but at least now he knew how the old tattoos' charms felt.

He also knew, too well, that they worked.

Levi was only eight years old, but he had been forced to watch his father die. He was able to give a report, though the Zamperias kept the killer's identities a secret. No. It was better to let the aurors run in circles. Ira Almasy was for him, and him alone. Mihai's lack of sleep was not simply due to grief-- it was due to late night planning, late nights in one of his studies, working with potions and alchemy. A theatrical murder deserved an equally theatrical form of revenge.

At least Juni was safe and sound, for now. Mihai was still livid about the whole thing-- if it were up to him, Solomon Carstairs would be out of a job by now.

"It's 3 o'clock"

He glanced up at Riordan, lips curling up in what was almost a smile. An acknowledgement. "It's only 3 o'clock." Mihai corrected. He knew very well that he looked like shit-- his dark hair was going grey, the bags under his eyes seemed to be a permanent fixture. Upon coming back to work, he had received condolences from all his coworkers-- especially the nosy ones who wanted details without actually admitting that they wanted details. He'd not-so-kindly told them to dig up a Portuguese newspaper.

Mihai picked up his brandy snifter and tilted his head towards Riordan in thanks. He swirled the brandy around in the glass and took a sip. Liquid fire trickled down his throat. It was only 3 o'clock.

"You brought the good stuff." He said approvingly. It was a pleasant surprise. Riordan was moderate and so painfully average in every other part of his life. At least he didn't skimp on what mattered: alcohol. "I'm doing fine." He offered, though it wasn't asked. His parents, however, weren't taking it well. "Glass didn't fuck up too much when I was gone, did he?"

"Oh, don't sound so surprised, Zamperia," Riordan said, mostly good-humored, though the bite did not abate entirely.  Of course the brandy was good--though he knew precisely why Zamperia might have assumed otherwise.  Not everyone could afford the robes that Mihai wore.  But that didn't make them spendthrifts where it mattered.  He gave a forced smile, nursing his smarting pride.  It was easier to do, with Zamperia looking ten shades of grey and haggard--beaten down.  Go easy on him.  He had no doubt, however, even on an off day, that Zamperia could hold his own.

Riordan shifted in his seat, crossing his legs.  "I'm doing fine."  Riordan's expression was expressly unimpressed.  He made no comment.  To be forced to lie twice was unsupportable.  He'd believe the man, this once.  Or appear to.  For his dignity.

At the mention of Glass, however, he could not bite back a cynical snort.  "You mean has he managed to hamstring my Aurors?" Or perhaps botch a Dementor response? Fail to prove helpful to active investigations? Stare, glassy-eyed, as this place...  The bad blood between Levels Four and Two was beyond rivalry.  It was a feud.  Glass was known to show up at a crime scene, whisk away Muggle witnesses, tamper with evidence, but because he likely had the good graces of Zephyr (for now), there was little that could be done.  He shook his head.  It was the least of his worries. At present, he was being called upon to run interference on his own Aurors. 

"We're doing alright. Even with Glass."  It was not what Zamperia asked, but he'd offer it as a peace offering anyhow.  "It looks like things are coming along nicely for the case against Gamp.  I'll be surprised if we don't get a conviction on all counts."  Riordan spoke with the confidence of a seasoned prosecutor.  That might mollify the man a little.  He knew Zamperia'd had Words with Carstairs in private at some point after the kidnapping.  Riordan was not going to let that scare him off.  Level Two had been blind in anticipation, it was true. But the conviction and apprehension was swift.  Zamperia needed to know that.  His Department had taken too much fire--some unjustly.  He had to defend when and where he could.  "Even Glass can't stop some of our more..." the image of Crash and Smash[1] came to mind, "enthusiastic Aurors."

It was overly unjust, probably. The slinging of stones at Glass.  But it provided an alternative conversation, if Zamperia needed it.  Hell, the man had practically handed it to him.

1.	JJ Bassir and Adon Eleor

Mihai wasn't a genuine enough person to notice how Riordan's smile didn't reach his eyes. Or at least, he didn't relate it to his comment. Not many people were smiling on level four these days-- Ira had hit them,  hard. The damage would be difficult to come back from. All they could do was clean up her mess and hope that the next one wasn't worse-- if when there was a next one. If the Zamperias were hastier, impatient people, then perhaps this wouldn't be a concern. But no-- timing was everything, and he'd talked his sister-in-law and the rest of his family out of acting too soon.

"Your aurors are doing fine, considering my floor's involvement." His tone was not completely humorless. Mihai didn't know when he had started disliking Glass. The man just didn't sit right with him.

Mihai's tone shifted, more stern, serious. "Your more enthusiastic aurors are... Effective." A good thing, mostly. "My daughter appreciated the way they treated her." Besides Solomon, of course. They had shown up in his office, and all Sol could do was gape, complain, and get turned into a duck. Mihai had respected him once, but the fact that Juni had been on level nine being experimented on was too much. He didn't know for certain that Ira was behind it, but the fact that she wormed her way so deeply into the ministry didn't settle right with him. "Juni wants them to know that she hopes they give Gamp the treatment he deserves." She'd also told him to slap their butts for her. That, Mihai didn't do.

The look he gave Riordan was a cool one. Mihai couldn't trust most of the people who worked here. Any one of them could've been her informants.

Any one of them could've been her.

He slowly put his walls up, keeping his thoughts tucked solidly in. Mihai watched Riordan with a critical eye-- for anything that felt remotely like her. They knew each other well. Too well.

"Speaking of daughters." He took another sip, "How is yours?"

“We’re obliged give him better than he deserves, regrettably.”  His smile was not a kind one.  Fair, equitable, decent lodgings.  Far better treatment than he showed mere children at his mercy.

”Speaking of daughters,” Riordan blinked, visibly surprised.  They knew each other had family, of course, but they were not in the habit of discussing.  The conversation had taken a somewhat personal turn for Mihai—with talk of Juni.  He supposed he was trying to level the playing field.  It’s what a good lawyer would do.

“Fine,” Riordan said, settling into a smile easily.  The best way to cover a lie was with the truth, after all, and Riordan was a practiced and accomplished fibber.  Give him enough to satisfy the desire for personal information.  “Living with Elspeth.  I see her most weekends.” He sucked in some breath, shifting in his seat and recrossing his legs as he looked up at the ceiling. “I know fathers and mothers ‘re meant to be blind to their children’s failings, but Lenore’s become entitled and I don’t like it.  I think it’s having her mother around all the time. Els never could say no.” Obviously. They’d ended up with a child they’d not planned on.

“I’ve been trying to convince Els she’d do well to get back to a job, get Lenore into some sort of preschool or daycare, with children her own age,” it would cost substantially less, too, with two incomes to support her.  And it would do her good to have to fight over her toys, fight her way into children’s good graces.  Children were almost cruel sometimes.  It was an important education, and one that Lenore had better learn sooner rather than later.  The world was already unkind to her—even if she didn’t know it.

“But you know how these things are.” He said, drily.  “Els is only a feminist when it suits her.”   They hadn’t been romantically attached for several years now (except for a couple of notable slips), but the woman still had the ability to drive him mad.  And not in that hot and bothered sort of way, either.  Not anymore.

Still, Elspeth was a consideration in all this as well.  Riordan still couldn’t decide if it’d be best to have them in the same place or split up, for safety.  Daycare—and a steady workplace—certainly meant a public element; less time on their own. 

“And the teen years haven’t even started.”  Riordan gave an amused scoff.  If Lenore grew into a Juni… well, he’d have more grey hairs than Mihai. That was for sure and for certain. Riordan was doing what he could to make sure that Lenore had the opportunity to grow into anything she damn well pleased.

Riordan lapsed into a comfortable silence, swirling the brandy idly.  He took a few sips.  “I won’t press, Mihai, Lord knows you’ve had enough questions.  But so you know—anything you need from me, say the word.  ‘ve got good working relations with Ferreira in Lisbon.” The other Deputy of Law Enforcement, there.  The perks of working on Level Two for well over a decade was a healthy network across the world.  Riordan wanted to know if they’d gotten a suspect yet.  Chiefly curiosity—he’d like to think that his shop ran things better and more smoothly—though there was a sincere enough concern to see things right by Zamperia, too.  It was a bad business.

Mihai couldn't detect any hint of a Russian accent, though Ira was well practiced at accents. What he looked for was changes in body language-- something that would make Riordan off. He couldn't find anything unusual-- and there was nothing that was distinctly Ira in Riordan's body language or accent. The way he talked about his daughter sounded like the way fathers talked about their kids. Now, Mihai didn't know the first thing about raising a small child. In truth, he really hadn't raised Juni. He was just there for the summers, for some weekends. It was a combination of the nature of his job and his personality that kept him away. Sometimes he regretted it.

Riordan's kid was still little. Mihai didn't know how old preschoolers or daycare kids were, but they were too young to be at Hogwarts or Beauxbatons. It was best though, for chidlren to grow up around other kids. Kids with siblings were different than only children. Mihai wouldn't go as far as to say that Juni was spoiled, but she hadn't grown up with the competition that brothers and sisters would have given her. Cousins weren't quite the same-- besides, Juni was the oldest of her cousins.

"They don't stay at that age for long." Mihai took another sip of his brandy. It struck him that as his parents were growing old, his daughter was growing up. "You'll miss it when she's a teenager. But," He managed a small smile, "It is interesting, seeing them become their own people."

He thought about the offer for help.

"My brother's an auror. He can't be on the case, naturally... But his coworkers are telling him the leads." He set the glass down on his desk and rubbed his temples. They knew. They all knew who did it. Keeping that part a secret was more difficult than Mihai had thought it'd be. "If you hear any leads from Ferreira, let me know. I'm not certain I'm being told everything." Family seldom was in these situations. They were more likely to be considered suspects.

"My sister in law is thinking about moving up in with me at the end of the month. With her son." He still didn't know what he thought of it. She wanted a change of pace, a change of scenery. "I think being around the rest of my family is.... Too much. And she's not confident that she or my nephew are safe there."

Alia also wanted the chance to talk to him, to plan with him one on one. His sister in law was.. Formidable. Then again, Mihai didn't know a single alchemist that he wanted to cross.

"They don't stay at that age for long."

"Well, thank God," Riordan said, holding his glass in the air a moment to salute that good bit of news before taking a sip.

"You'll miss it when she's a teenager. but..."

Riordan grimaced.  Maybe there was some sort of magical sleep that he could... hibernate her through the teen years.  Or maybe Elspeth would actually move away like she'd been threatening to do and Riordan'd be like Mihai had been for some time: absent.  Riordan wasn't sure, yet again, if this would be good or bad.  He'd certainly not brought much good to their lives of late.  Either way, distance of any sort wasn't really an option: Ira wouldn't have it.

But enough about that.  Riordan listened carefully. An Auror brother. Had he known that? Surely not.  He was beginning to realize just how little he knew about Mihai.  "I will certainly relay anything I catch wind of." It was a formality, really.  He didn't have the time, his Aurors didn't have the time. There'd be a quickly jotted off letter to Ferreira, and there'd be nothing more from that.

"Is she worried for her safety, there?" Riordan had to ask.  The move was jarring. Usually one wanted to be close to families in such time.  Again, Riordan was realizing how little he knew.  He didn't know about this sister-in-law. Were they close? Was there a friendship? How, exactly, where the Zamperias too much? Too many questions.  It was easier to listen, to wait for Mihai to speak himself.

Mihai shook his head. "She might be worried about her safety, but..." He took a deep breath, "I think it's hard for her to live in the home her husband was killed in. My nephew found him. I think it's easier for her to just leave-- Portugal has never been home for her, and like a true honorary Zamperia she has a wandering spirit." No matter how many times  the siblings moved around, they always went back home to their parents. His mother was sure that he'd settle down, and in many ways he had for Juni. But not enough.

"With me, she's close to family. And I'll still give her the space she needs. I can't say the same for my parents-- or for my other brother. My sister's in the area, too. Mirela and I are... Easier people to be around." Alia didn't have much patience for his parents, he knew that. They were nosy and controlling in a way that never sat well with her.

He gave Riordan an apologetic smile, eyebrows furrowed. "Sorry, I'm talking too much. Distracting you from your work."

"No," Riordan said quickly, firmly before, giving a wry smile.  He had a point. "Well, yes..." This was a distraction. That had been partly the point.  "But distract away. Please."  And it was important. Mihai's well-being and all.  He hoped the man didn't need him to spell it out, spill the guts and spew the tears for that to be readily apparent.  And there was no secret that things on Level Nine were a breath downwind from a shitstorm.  It was nice to be able to breathe a moment, without scrutiny.

He looked across at Zamperia, a slight frown tugging at his expression.  Without much scrutiny.

"Frankly, I'm surprised you're here. Though..." the situation at home sounded like shite.  "Your sister-in-law may be right in wanting to get away from... all that."  Riordan was not particularly close to his family--his parents, cousins, all that.  It was starting to have more advantages than drawbacks, at this point.  Fewer people to meddle, fewer people to get hurt.  "Tragedies fuck with just about everything; even the closest of families."

Riordan wasn't sure he'd heard Mihai talk about Mirela before. Or much about his family. Usually it'd been work gripes.  Career ambitions.  Drinking boasts and jests.  Riordan hadn't had a conversation this real in some time.  He took another sip from the snifter.  If there was a lapse long enough, they'd have to return back to work, and they both knew it.

"Think it'll be good? Having Alia here, then? Uprooting him like that?"  He paused. "The son," he clarified.  "Not sure we could rightly qualify London as wandering.  Seems about as exotic as mushy peas."