Morning, Balfour Spectre's Office


              "... and I believe Art Oglesbee would like a word with you at some point."
"Aye, send him in any time. I need the reports from the Centaur Liaison office when you can by the way. Tea, as well."

Balfour glanced up from his desk, where he had just signed the last of this mornings terminated proposals, and pushed his reading spectacles up into his curls. Mrs Lanningham was gathering up the various folders to get on with her work for the day and didn't pay much mind to her employer as he considered the older with with an affectionate eye. Whatever would he do without her? She turned to go away, shooting him a stern look as if though he had said that bit out loud. 

He grinned after her small, retreating figure.

The division head let the moment pass then - a quiet one in which he contemplated notions that did not suit words. And then he returned his attention to review the proposals that would have to go through for the week, readjusting his spectacles with the mannerisms of an older man.

He wasn't even a full paragraph into the first sheet of parchment when Oglesbee came through the office doors.

Art had been trying to sneak by Mrs. Lanningham's desk for the better part of an hour.  He had been "inconspicuously" hovering about, waiting for her to head to the cludgie.  And finally her desk sat empty.

He lumbered up to Balfour's door with the speed (and grace) of a stampeding erumpent, he wasn't one to let opportunities slip by.  Two steps out he stopped short as the door opened in front of him.  The look of disheveled surprise on his face mirrored his haphazard appearance (although he did wear his patched trousers and had made an ineffectual attempt at combing his frizzy mane and beard).  He was greeted by Mrs. Lanningham's unimpressed face.

"Why Mr. Oglesbee, I see you've combed your hair today.  You'll be asking Mr. Spectre a favor then?"

Few creatures scare Art or leave him without words.  And Ah was so sneaky he thought to himself

"Och...Ah, Ah.....it's lovely ta see yer bonnie face Mrs. L" was what he managed

"I've informed him you're wanting a word.  Go on then."

Art crept past her and pushed open the door.  For some reason he felt the need bow to Mrs. L as he awkwardly backed into Balfour's office.  He shut the door, composed himself a second and then spun about, back to his normal self.

"Wee Spectre, how are ye this fine day laddie?"  He gave Balfour a big goofy smile. And it was only a little forced, after all, he did like the boy.

"Ah was hoping ta chat a bit about an upcoming...uh....opportunity.  Ye remember ma little great-niece Celene, dinnae ye?"

          "Wee Spectre, how are ye this fine day laddie?"

Balfour removed his spectacles altogether, leaning back into his seat with a fond smile as the older Scotsman strode into the office. He always felt a little nostalgic around Oglesbee. A bit like he did as a lad, listening to his uncles spin stories in the kitchen over whisky and hot milk.

"Not bad, Art. Take a seat," he nodded at the chair before his desk - there were other chairs in the office as well, but most of them were occupied by stacks of folders and books that never seemed to shrink no matter how much paperwork one did.

Celene? That name did sound a bit familiar. There were always young ones coming by for a short spell of work on level four, like Moira or the odd cousin.

"I think so." Balfour's expression was thoughtful. "What's this opportunity to do with her, then?"

Art took a deep breath and started in on the speech he'd made in his head while waiting for Mrs. L to vacate her desk.  He mustered the most controlled tone he was capable of.

"Weel, she's quite a talented young lass and happens tae be stayin with me a stint this summer."  Art was doing his best impression of a reasonable, responsible adult.

"And so I just figured we could put her talents tae guid use while she was about."  Still calm, very reasonable.  It was about department resources, not fulfilling promises he'd already made.....

"Bein' thae she's finishin' up her...." What year was she? She wasn't applying for formal apprenticeships yet, maybe... "...sixth year, I thought I....I mean ye, could maybe give tha lass an excitin' assignment.  Ye know, fer the sake of gettin' the most out of our limited resources."  Pleased with his use of lingo, Art reached up with a meaty paw and tried to flatten down his hair, even as it was fighting to escape the greasy goop he'd put in it earlier.  Very professional he thought

"Maybe thae problem the Americans were havin' with the nogtails?  We could take over some ministry blood hounds and poke around, try to help out a bit?"  He added as nonchalantly as he could, making a sort of robotic half-shrug, half-hand motion.  He had his best "this just popped into my head this very second" look on his face and was shaking his head a bit for added effect.

Balfour raised an eyebrow as the handler began to explain - and the more he explained, the slightly higher the auburn eyebrow climbed, until the Division Head was very much in danger of looking quizzical. It was more words than he was used to hearing for an easy request, to takes one's niece gallivanting with magical creatures. Of course, Bal had grown up in a time when it was simpler for someone to tag along on such adventures.

He'd followed his grandfather on all manner of tasks. Nowadays there was much more red tape, to everyone's displeasure.

"Sixth year, you said?" Balfour asked after he had waited for the older wizard to finish. "Is she of age, then? You'll have to get someone to sign the usual safety forms if she can't do it herself." He leaned forward to dig out a shabby looking folder from underneath a pile of even shabbier ones.

It was stuffed half-full of empty forms. Mrs L had left them to him, as he sometimes received owls directly from aspiring youths[1] and it was easier to just slip in a few sheets instead of bothering her.

He passed a couple of these across the desk for Arthfael to take. "Any reason you've chosen the States? They have their own people handling it, not that I think they'll refuse the help." Balfour leaned back in his chair, thoughtful. "You will need to write to their department letting them know you're bringing Celene in, and they'll probably need you both to sign more forms. Can't be held responsible for her if something happens, and all that."

In polite company, Balfour would have amended 'Odin forbid'. On level four it seemed unnecessary. Things almost always happened.

1.	Little Beast - 25th Feb