How in Merlin’s beard was it already past 11 in the morning and Eva was rushing through the atrium to approach the lifts that would take her to her office on Level 1? The last she’d seen her clock, it had been 2:30AM. She’d laid awake for over an hour after having woken as sweaty breathy mess like most nights. So desperate she had been to sleep that the bottle of fire whiskey kept in the kitchen cupboard had been drained and she’d fallen into a comatose slumber which, fortunately, cast out any nightmares that may have surfaced throughout the night.

Chou Fleur’s barks had been the noise to penetrate the silent darkness caused by the alcoholic sleep before he’d jumped onto the bed, evidently hungry and desparate to have his bowl filled. Eva’d been rather unwilling to shift until drowsy blue eyes had landed on the clock sat upon the bedside table. 10:30AM. Wednesday. Late. Very late!

Usually the first to arrive on Level 1 in the morning and one of the last to leave, Eva had never been late twice in her career at the ministry. Both times had been before the war, over a decade past. Well, she’d never gotten herself ready so quickly, and after feeding the dog and a quick hangover vomit, she was out of the house and stepping from the fireplace in the atrium.

The heat and closeness of bodies set the witch’s hangover into overdrive as she pushed through the crowds, heels clicking on the tiled floor until she reached the lifts.

Stepping out onto Level 1’s plush purple carpet, the witch whose pale face was most normal, looked practically translucent. It was abundantly clear that sleep had evaded her for something else throughout the night and, avoiding eye contact with any staff member, she made a beeline for the small office whose door was always left open.

As ever, the door was open, but the witch was stopped dead in her tracks by the taller lanky wizard hunched over the desk evidently searching for something.
“If you’re looking for your manners on my desk, Holmes, I think you’ll find those were misplaced at least a decade ago.”

Unlike the doting shining star Kuester, Maurice had been on time for work and for this, had been the one having to go into her office due to inquiries about minutes from the budget meetings that had been occurring. Chatterings of who was safe, not safe became idle and loose tongues these past few months. Needless and pointless, a pool of Kuester and Holmes had shown its way apparently at Pigs Can't Fly[1]. Clever Ministry workers hiding from prying eyes. Shame, that. They thought that they'd one upped and for a spell, they had.

The last check showed Kuester up on Holmes by two.

Maurice was amused.

This all said, Maurice felt he was gaining traction, rounding another corner, another notch to the belt. Perhaps that two would become an one and then a plus two for him. The hat had placed him aptly, had it not? Heh.

Right as fingers dove for the now found reports, wrapping around them even, Maurice was distracted by Eva's voice. He smirked well before gazing fully towards the witch. "Oh, you needn't be so hard on yourself, Eva. It's not as though I expect such....details to be laying about, dear," he replied curtly, the smirk never wavering, his hand still holding the documents.

He then looked up and the maniacal laughter erupted inside his head. God. Talk about being and looking absolute shite for wear. "Have you had a bad morning, dear? You look like you could have used  extra hour." Spare the quasi caring heart method, his brain scolded. Raising the hand that held the documents, Maurice jiggled them in the air. "Besides, I came what I was asked to find. Rest assured, tis not your manners. You leave those in the closet, I would think."

He moved from the desk and leaned on one of the leather chairs near her and the exit. "By the way....how's it feel to be a wager?" That could mean any wager. Could be the one about them....could be about her tardiness this morning. Maurice was prepared. "Is it worth it, I wonder?"

1.	Rufus Delacroix's Muggle Pub - Counterpart to Rover's Fancy

The smarmy smirk made the wizard who’d already been ugly on the inside appear ever uglier to view. In his hand, he’d plucked some parchment from the pile on her desk and her tired eyes shot to the desk where the neat ordered reports had been scattered and left across the wooden surface with no respect for tidiness and order.

Words spilled from his mouth with fake concern and Eva’s pale lips pressed together as she considered how to handle yet another unwanted ‘discussion’ with Maurice Holmes in a professional manner. In reality, the lanky wizard hadn’t been pleased with her appointment less than a year ago and he’d made himself clear throughout her time in the little office on Level 1. To him, she was clearly a threat despite completing a completely different job role even if it was under the title of assistant.

“I hardly waste them on the undeserving.” Her response to manners being in the cupboard slipped out in her tired and hungover state as she pulled her hat off and stared up at the taller wizard with the expectation that he would vacate her office and leave her to get on with her job.

Yet he didn’t move. He even went so far as to lean against a chair, practically blocking the doorway and her entrance.
“A wager? Like a bet? What are you blathering on about?”

Oh, she was quite unaware of the bet, wasn't she. Well, he had been too most previously to the party himself, no? "Word is that you and I are on betting blocks. Who will sink and who will swim. Congratulations to you as clearly you're far much more adored by the masses than I." Maurice moved off the chair, allowing for the witch to take her throne once again.

He noted her irritable nature and knew there was more to this than just her usual disdain for the wizard. It would seem very few individuals actually gave a damn about him. Sure, he hadn't given a good image nor a caring nature for people to clasp onto when regarding Maurice.

"Bets or no, you and I both damn well we're safe. Perhaps you more than me. I know we haven't the best rapport.... but still. We know what it means to get the work done, no matter the cost, eh?"

So, this was why Maurice was sneaking about in her office, he was jealous and insecure about his job role. To Eva, his insecurity had been evident from day one when he’d come into the minister’s office to find she’d employed an old friend rather than a stranger he could control. Kuester’s presence had set him on the back foot and he’d been scraping about for the minister’s attention since; or at least it had seemed as such to the lawyer. It didn’t appear to matter to the wizard that they had different responsibilities and skill sets or that she’d been specifically selected for her role.

Nonetheless, this morning, Evangeline felt too sick and her head ached too much to truly bother with his problems.

“Speaking to people as equals might gain you more support.” The witch offered, stepping into the small office and around the desk where she dropped her hat on the wooden surface. “It’s just a suggestion. From one colleague to another.” A strained smile accompanied her words.

Eva dropped into her chair, looking up at her colleague.
“You might not care for the cost.” Leaning forward, the witch rested elbows on the desk. “Are you genuinely concerned for your job, Maurice? I’m surprised you’ve not gone running to Glass’ office with the delightful news that I’ve only just walked in.”