[1]
He had been sitting in his flat for two days now.  After the years he spent in France and the short-lived time he tried to live back at home with his folks, he thought he would enjoy the peace and quiet of having his own place.  Turns out, he couldn't stand it.  He needed to be involved with something, anything really and well, he wasn't going to find anything by sitting in his comfy armchair and staring at the wall.

So he found himself getting dressed, leaving his flat, and flooing to the Ministry of Magic.  He didn't really know anyone who worked in the Ministry, but maybe he would get lucky and his visit today would end with him having a job.

He walked to the welcome desk and went through the whole routine of checking his wand and such, even stopping to flirt with the witch for a minute before heading upstairs to where he hoped he would find something to cure his boredom.

Level Four was were he thought would be a good start, so he stopped there and began to look around. He had forgotten to ask the witch downstairs who he should be looking for if he wanted to ask for a job, so instead of looking like he knew what he was doing, he probably looked like a tourist or something.  Standing around, looking lost.

He finally spotted someone and walked over to them.  "Hello, I'm wondering if there may be any room on this level for someone new?" Even in his head it sounded weird, but he wasn't going to take it back, or even rephrase it.  He'd said it, now all he had to do was wait for a response.

1.

Ace

“Was I speaking Norwegian when I explicitly directed you to keep both feet outside of my office?” Alec Carter stood before the desk of Kayla Greensleves with his hands shoved into the pockets of black trousers.
“I don’t speak Norwegian, Mr Carter.” The teenager responded, his sarcasm evidently lost on her small and inefficient mind. The former dragon handler grit his teeth and took a breath, he would not lose his temper over such a daft girl that he’d considered sacking multiple times.

“The answer is no, Miss Greensleeves. No, I was not speaking Norwegian. I was speaking English. Pain old English; our mutual language. The language that you should have understood when I told you not to enter my office, not to put anything in my office, not to take anything from my office, not to even touch my office door. Looking at my office is pushing it, Greensleeves.”

“Okay, but-”
“But you have been in there. You’ve been in there. You even left me a present. A sticky-fingered present all over the recent randy troll report on my desk. Only one person I know scoffs honey buns in this office.” Alec doubted it would have been possible for the girl to have looked guiltier than she did now she realised she’d been busted by the boss.

"Hello, I'm wondering if there may be any room on this level for someone new?" The voice registered and Alec’s attention left the incompetent young girl his Head of Beings chose to keep on, instead finding the man addressing one of the level’s administrative assistants.

“It depends on how much room they take up.” The wizard commented as he made his way over, hands still in his pockets. As usual, he wore no tie over his white shirt. This lack of tie and sleeves rolled up to the elbows stood in contrast to the smart waistcoat neatly buttoned up. “Or what area they wish to fill.” A dark eyebrow rose in expectation.

Ace's first thought when the man approached him was to raise his eyebrows, the man was gorgeous.  But that's not why he was here, "I'm looking for work, can't stand to sit in my flat anymore, too quiet."  He looked around the office, not something he was used to, but the guys at the reserve told him that it wouldn't be in his best interests to work in the field anymore ( in a reserve) as the injury, while superficial, could have some mental thing attached to it and could cause him to flinch at a most inopportune time.

"Any openings at all. I'm not picky." he said looking back at the man standing before him, "Oh, sorry, I'm Ace Deveraux, just moved back to England from France."

Sylvain had a headache. He has a headache on most days, when those days involve nearly having one's arm nearly taken off in an attempt return a hatchling of Chimaera eggs back to their mother.

He was just returning from having made his report, keen on taking an early lunch break and looking around to see if anyone would care to join him. Their department head was in the foyer - it looked like the wizard had found a visitor's badge to pick at; good for Gamp's secretary, fille triste. Sylvain walked past the pair, thinking to invite Kayla out as an escape, when he caught a few words of their exchange.

              "...Ace Deveraux, just moved back to England from France."
"Eh, de France?" he immediately stopped, first glancing at Alec by way of greeting, and then eyeing this Deveraux.

"Où?" Sylvain smiled with the warm expression of welcoming a kinsman - even if the other man did not seem natively French. "Je viens de Provence. Sylvain Onuris," he took Ace's hand without waiting for a prompt, and leaned in to give him a peck on each cheek.

Ace wasn't shocked in the least when the other man spoke French and then greeted him like he was in France.  He'd endured that the first year he'd been there and still couldn't help blushing every time it happened.  "Pleasure." he said to Onuris, "I have to confess though, I never really did learn the language while I was over there, I know how to say two phrases." he turned his attention back to who he assumed was the boss with a smirk.

Ace thought for a moment before he remembered the correct wording,


he looked back to the other man, "I only learned how to say what I thought the most, the other one is,


He took a deep breath, "And that begins and ends my knowledge of the French language, besides saying hello."

One thing almost immediately struck Alec and raised his concern and that was the younger man’s lack of direction in a job he seemed to half-heartedly wish to gain. Being sick of staying home alone in one’s flat was not sufficient ambition to undertake a role on Level 4 with the utmost determination and diligence required when often dealing with dangerous creatures and annoying quill pushing lawyers and colleagues.

Alec wasn’t given the chance to introduce himself to Ace Devereux or inform him that come direction and idea would be beneficial because Frenchman Sylvain Onuris perked up at the mention of him home country and galloped over and there began the decidedly French exchange which left Alec standing there, hands buried in trouser pockets without a clue what was being said before his own staff member pressed lips against the stranger’s cheek.

It was with a frown that Alec withdrew his right hand and offered it to shake. Best be polite before he told the wizard where it would be best to go so they could get on with their day’s work.
“Alec Carter, Head of Level 4. Are you planning on telling me what you can do or are you asking for a job as my secretary?” Eyebrows rose as his hand returned to his pocket.

Flirt that he was, Ace knew when to cool it down, and when he heard who the first guy was, he remembered why he was here.

Shaking the guy's hand firmly he replied to his question, "Pleasure to meet you Mr. Carter, as I said, my name is Ace Deveraux and I've just recently left the Dragon Reserve in France.  I was there for 10 years and would love to still be there, but was let go due to an injury." he let go of his hand.

"I came here because, like I said, I had been in my flat for two days and couldn't stand the quiet." he paused, "I miss the sounds of people working.  I miss working, mostly I miss the dragons." at the thought of dragons Ace got a silly smile on his face for a brief moment before getting back to the point. 

"I just want to work.. so if you have something, put me to work." And because he was who he was, he added a silent, 'Gorgeous' in his mind to the end of that sentence.

Sylvain looked awkwardly between the two wizards. Devereux, apparemment, only knew enough French to have a glass of wine thrown in his face at a good bar in Paris. Luckily for everyone in the vicinity, their department head did not speak the language. But this story would find its way through the gossip mill somehow - even if he was responsible for it.

Before Carter could respond to Ace's plea for work, however, something of this new handler's story caught Sylvain's attention.

"An injury at your last reserve?" he slipped back into English, examining Ace with a critical frown. "What kind? It keeps you from working? Or it was only temporary?"

It was a natural peppering of questions; their division had been forced  to put even their best handlers, like Margo Amherst, at the desk when she suffered her injuries in the past. Spectre's safety policy was unforgiving and Sylvain agreed with him. An injured handler was a liability to the safety of other handlers.

Ace actually had the decency to look ashamed, after all, his injury was caused by his own selfish desire.  "I approached a nesting Opaleye. She wasn't pleased and let me know in the hottest way she knew how." he took a deep breath, "I got lucky, she only caught my back, but it was enough to make me flinch at inopportune times, so I was benched."

He said this with a wistful sigh, he missed working with dragons and it hadn't even been that long ago that he'd had to leave.

"I couldn't stand it, watching everyone else go out to work with the dragons while I was stuck on potion duty... I mean, there are only so many times a strapping young man like me could make a cauldron full of burn paste..." he smiled briefly, "So I left."

It wasn’t everyday someone strolled onto Level 4 requesting to be put to work. Carter felt rather more like he had a daily struggle to ensure that all staff members were actually working enough. He’d been back in England for a few months now and still didn’t feel as if he was making adequate headway. As Alec mused over the oddity, he simply stood, allowing Onuris to engage Devereux in conversation.

But to call himself a strapping young man? Alec’s brows twitched, frowning as he folded his arms.

“You’ll need to interview.” Carter finally muttered. “We need someone to clean the pixie shit around the office.” A knowing glance was shared with the Frenchman to his side. “Magical maintenance has given up. Bloody stuff gets everywhere.” But one might presume that Devereux wasn’t after a job shovelling pixie excrement even if he’d surely spent enough hours with dragon poo in his time. “Or dragon fodder. Always an opening in that unit.”