Evening, at Sasha's flat in Cambridge.


"So tell me everything," Abby sat on the counter in the kitchen of Sasha's flat, swinging her legs slightly as she sipped at her coffee. "What did you think of Yavin? And was he wearing," she paused for dramatic effect. "A wacky sweater, wackier pajamas, or something completely and utterly wackadoo?"

She waggled her eyebrows at her boyfriend, ready to hear his first impressions of his new.... boss! Wow, Sasha had a boss now. Part time? Knowing him he'd dedicate a good deal of time and energy to whatever project he was given on Level Nine, when he wasn't in class or juggling his academic projects at home or taking care of his Oma or hanging out with her. He would find the time somehow, and though she'd already checked his pockets for a time turner and she was starting to suspect he had a TARDIS tucked away in one of his mansions, she was really proud of him.

She hadn't seen Sasha for a whole week, ever since she had first met Yavin, actually. That fateful meeting with the department heads had led her to taking a few days off, burrowing under a blanket fort in her living room, and skipping the massive birthday party celebration over the weekend, until Monday, when she'd felt ready to face the world. It had felt awkward, seeing her boss again and everyone else on Level Two who was tasked with both protecting her and knowing all of her business.

So upon finding out about Sasha's new job, Abby had shown up to his flat in muggle jeans and her own colorful sweater, with a bottle of wine in tow. Though they hadn't opened it yet, it sat enticingly on the kitchen counter across from her. First she'd finish her coffee. She'd hear about his interview. She'd check his back pockets pretending to look for a time turner again. And she'd tell him a little bit about what was going on with her, but not too much, because tonight was a night to celebrate.

"Well-" he offered, then paused to add his on dramatic effect.  An amused grin flickered across Sasha's face, but he took a quick sip of his beer before leaning against the edge of the counter next to Abby.  It was still nearly impossible to wrap his head around the idea that he ... he ... was working for the Ministry of Magic.  It was a possibility that had never held much appeal to him and, especially after some very heated career-related conversations, he'd accepted such a life path was not in his stars. 

But, here he was.  Sharing an evening that, in many ways, mirrored when the celebrated Abby's induction into the Ministry of Magic.  He was going to be - or, perhaps, he was - an Unspeakable trainee. 

"He was wearing a sweater," Sasha confirmed with a brief nod of his head.  "It ..." he hesitated and sipped his beer again, not quite capable of wrapping his mouth around anything that suggested his new boss' attire was wacky.  Even if it totally was and even if Sasha doubted the man would hear or mind.  "It contained a wider array of vibrant colors than I would generally include in an outfit.  It definitely tested the fashion theory that anything can go with black."  Tested, but not proven. 

Sasha nudged the beer bottle, slightly, letting it slide on the puddle of condensation under the glass.  "After going through all the rigamarole of checking into the Ministry and registering my wand, I wandered down towards Level 9 and ..."  He hesitated a moment and took another sip.  "Quick summary or do you need a dramatic reenactment of all the drama and glory?"  He doubted it could obtain quite the public ratings as the theatrical interpretation of her hiring had, on account of there being no pedestrian audience, but that didn't mean it couldn't reach the level of a made-for-tv movie.

Abby laughed silently, shoulders shaking as Sasha described the 'vivid array of colors' of Yavin's sweater in such an adorably detailed and awkward way.

She let her shoulder bump his, tilted her head at him and grinned. Sasha knew exactly what to say to make her laugh, and to let her forget for a moment that while he'd been making an impression on Level Nine, she'd been settling into her job on Level Two again, for however long she managed to keep it.

At his question, his very silly question, she hopped down from the counter, gave him a 'you should know better look', and held out her hands, because clearly the tall one needed a hand. She of short stature just liked any excuse to flirt.

"You know I live for drama. Which role would you, ah, like? Ahem," Abby affected Yavin's speech pattern, smiling an enigmatic smile.

"Older gentleman peering mysteriously over his spectacles," she ducked her head and peered up at him.

"Or..."

Abby stood next to Sasha and straightened her posture, "Young and handsome hopeful who has every reason to believe he'll get the job, but just in case, he's prepared three copies of his resume, his NEWTS, his A-levels, and not to mention eighteen letters of recommendation." Abby fixed an invisible bow tie over her sweater. "One for each year of adorkableness."

A slight blush rose in Sasha's cheeks and he could feel a slight ache start to settle in his cheeks when Abby laughed and bumped shoulders.  It was always good to see her laugh, especially in the aftermath of what he knew must have been a difficult week.  Though there were sporadic occasions when Sasha felt frustrated at what little he could do to help, he'd come to accept that simply being an escape was probably be the best source of help he could offer. 

He remembered how suffocating it was when everyone around you was focused on your problem; there had been very few he'd been able to turn to to just relax and remember who he was and forget about the problems.  Of course it paled in comparison to the help others were able to offer but he knew it still had its place. 

Her response to his question was not far from what he would have expected and, between her amusing answer and the very obvious flirtations, Sasha could feel the temperature of his cheeks creep up a few degrees.  He wrapped his hand in her offered one and stole another sip of beer before pushing himself off the counter. 

"You are the queen regent of drama," he offered with a sly grin, leaning over to kiss her cheek.  "Which is why I thought I should ask.  It would pain me to deny you the opportunity." 

Though, as he watched Abby offer a sneak preview of both roles, Sasha quickly came to the conclusion that attempting to play the role of Abby or her interviewer was much easier than doing the same with his future boss.  And, really, that whole peering-down-her-nose-over-spectacles look she was giving him was unexpectedly distracting.  Not something he wanted to associate with the Head of the Department of Mysteries. 

"Definitely not like that," he said as he cleared his throat.  "Though that second audition was definitely very close to what happened.  You must know that role very well; it seems better suited to you.  But, first ..."  He pressed another kiss to her cheek and crossed the living room to the sounds system.  "...ever good drama needs a soundtrack," he explained as he set the ipod to Mussorgasky's Night On Bald Mountain.  After plucking one of his notebooks off the coffee table, he returned to Abby and handed them to her.  A brightly striped kitchen towel tucked into his collar completed the costume. 

"Yes, yes.  Um, come in and, uh ... have a seat," he said, waving Abby towards one of the chairs at the kitchen table. 

"We can't have any needless suffering," Abby grinned at the kiss on her cheek as she set her coffee on the table. She loved it when he talked nerdy/gentlemanly.

Abby raised her eyebrows as Sasha cleared his throat and glanced around the room, then went about setting up the scene. She would offer to lend Sasha her colorful sweater, but it wouldn't fit him. The offer would just distract him. And as tempting and amusing as the thought was, to lean against the kitchen counter and hand him her sweater oh so casually as he turned around, she resisted the impulse. She giggled to herself, watching him find a notebook. Cute cute cute.

That music! She couldn't even.

"Sir," Abby outstretched her hand and shook his hand firmly, with a tad bit of over enthusiasm. She kept her back straight and her gaze shy.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for this opportunity."

Abby hesitated at the chairs, as if picking the best one. She took a moment to straighten one chair, and then selected the other, positioning it carefully to face Sasha. She perched on the edge of her seat, resting the notebook primly on her lap. She had lots of experience watching her prim and proper relatives, and could affect their attitude when she chose to.

Abby glanced around with open curiosity, and tried to remember what her sister had told her about Yavin's office.

"I never thought I'd step foot inside the Ministry, let alone on Level Nine - not that I don't have the greatest respect for you, of course." She ducked her head. "Virgil was convincing. He said I might be able to offer some help, and suggested that I - uh, he told you, didn't he? Of course he did. Never mind. I'm sorry," she smiled and shrugged. "Uh, that skeleton wearing the top hat - is it charmed to look at us like that?" She peered curiously in the direction of a kitchen cabinet. "Looks like a locomotor charm, or perhaps a - never mind, I'm sorry."

She grinned a sheepish grin and glanced to the side to giggle as the background music swelled.

"No, definitely not!"  He agreed, with a broad grin.  "Suffering is only allowed when there's a definite, unquestionable need."  Which, of course, there should never be a need for suffering, but right now wasn't the time for logical details.

Even he knew that. 

In some strange way, the obviously comical theatrical approach to the whole interview was helpful.  Almost therapeutic.  Given the amount of time he'd spent replaying and dissecting every comment and gesture that afternoon, in the search for something concrete that would either confirm or dismiss his worries, treating it so casually allowed a bit of cognitive distance.  A break and an opportunity to look at it from a different perspective.

He was also, intentionally, approaching the reenactment with as much neutrality as he could.  If only to see if, without his own worries influencing her, Abby came to a similar array of concerns while standing in his proverbial shoes.  It would be tricky to navigate.  He wasn't going to break confidentiality but he could convey the meaning of the conversation without actually relaying the conversation.  He agreed not to divulge what Yavin had said.  Yavin never said employees had a tendency to get dropped in the middle of the Forbidden Forest. 

So, there was no hint of his previous concern or uncertainty when he took Abby's hand and gave it a shake before waving her towards the chair. 

"Yes ... yes, no ... um.  Please call me Yavin.  And, please, have a seat.  I'm-"  He glanced up at the clatter of nails against tile as a lazy looking Baldur trotted back into the living room, showing all the clear signs of having dozed off on one of the beds after the initial excitement of greeting Abby had worn off.  At Sasha's coaxing, Baldur obliged Sasha and climbed into the neighboring chair, leaning his head against the back of the chair as he assumed the role of 'skeleton.' 

"Oh don't mind the skeletons.  We think they came from Sussex on the evening train and are filing for a divorce.  No one exactly knows why.  Just, don't give them your home address."

"Now, now, let me lean against this window here," Sasha explained.  As the only real window in the room was the big, floor-to-ceiling glass doors leading out to the balcony, Sasha awkwardly improvised by half-leaning against the fireplace mantle. 

"Yes, yes.  I was told you have an interest in our ultra-top secret project and, eh hem, I've been already told all about you.  Tell me what you know of our project to genetically engineer unicorns to fart crystals."  He didn't actually know if Abby knew of Virgil's ability to get in people's mind and, despite his unease - regardless of the Ministry, he knew that wasn't his information to share.  Nor did he exactly think it was relevant. 

Abby hopped up from her seat, sneaked to the other chair, gave Baldur a kiss atop the head, and then went back to her seat, winking at Sasha.

"Totally happened."

Baldur's tail wagged. Abby grinned at Sasha's commentary about the skeletons, imagining all of them lined up on a train poring over scrolls of parchment.

"I don't know, a horde of animated skeletons might add a macabre touch to the Halloween theme I've got going on around my castle, Yavin. Considering that the skeletons are divorced I can only imagine they're free to make their home anywhere."

She said, too cheekily to be Sasha.

Unicorn farts! Abby burst out laughing, leaning back in her seat and turning her head to get her laughter under control. If she kept looking at Sasha by the 'window', she would never recover.

"Oh Merlin. Sasha! Boss," she corrected herself. "Future boss, because even though you've already heard alllll about me, you can't resist my novel of accomplishments," she waved her notebook in the air. "Or my handsome face."

She raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips, but it wasn't long before she grinned again.

"Ahem! Going to be serious now. Going to stay in character. About these unicorn farts, I've only been told that the unicorns are a part of your project and that they've been fed a certain - one moment." Abby pinched her cheeks to affect a blush. "A certain diet, sir. I've not been told about your particular aim to produce crystals although I do have several theories as to how that might happen, if you'd like to hear them. I regret to tell you that none of my previous experience at school or elsewhere - uh, I mean to say I am not experienced with the gaseous emissions of unicorns, however..."

Abby gave him a flirtatious look, a flicker of softness in her eyes as she paused dramatically.

"Unicorn girls love me."

It was hard to imagine something being both endearing and hilarious at the same time but, somehow, watching Abby plant a kiss on Baldur's head seemed to achieve both.  He tried to keep a straight, Morgenthau-appropriate face, but the corners of his mouth kept trying to tug up into a grin. 

"Yes, no.  Totally happened, but not quite like that-" Sasha admitted, biting his lip to keep from laughing.  "He had a hat on.  So, it was more -"  He puffed out a cheek and tapped it with a finger. 

Sasha leaned his head back to clear his throat, trying to get back in character.  "As ... uh ... interesting an idea as that might be, no one is entirely sure what the skeletons have in mind.  Or what the do or who they see.  They're just doing their own thing." 

He also had to chuckle and turn his head away when Abby broke down in laughter.  Luckily, even if Sasha did accept the offer, it was unlikely his pseudonym for the project would get back to the Ministry. 

"Oh, I see all the work you put into it, but you didn't need to bother," he said, shaking his hand and waving off the pile of papers.  "I've ... um ... already looked into you.  I know everything about you from other sources and nothing you can provide will ... uh ... tell me something I don't already know.  Drink?" 

He had to ignore the flirting if he had any chances of continuing this act.  She was making it incredibly difficult, though.   At least, she was obviously making it difficult on herself, as well.  And, all hopes of succeeding crashed and burned as Abby pinched her cheeks and gazed across at him. 

The fake blush was met with a real one and, for a moment, Sasha smiled broadly at Abby as all memory of what they were doing fled his mind.   

"That ... um ... definitely didn't, you know, happen," he admitted, momentarily flustered in the best sense.  "Not even with the, you know, skeletons.  But - well - "  Only now was Sasha realizing the potential risk of combining his own intermittent difficulty with full sentences with faking Morgenthau's difficulty with full sentences, especially in the presence of one who saw flustering him as a sport.  "Of course, given our thorough vetting, we are aware ... uh ... of it being a mutual feeling." 

He cleared his throat and forced his attention back on the task at hand.  Luckily, walking towards the counter to pour two drinks provided a convenient moment to collect himself.

"Interesting ... uh ... that you should stick with the basic and simplest explanation.  Wouldn't want to delve into the less obvious ones.  But ... eh ... we are measuring the volume of these unicorns' fartacious emissions so that we could, let's say, learn to predict if there's sufficient gaseous toots for crystals.  Hence the Great Patooter Reader.  There are, of course, ... uh ... all matter of people involved but before we can tell you more, you must promise us your first born as collateral that you'll keep everything secret and never use it outside of Level 9." 

He leveled a gaze across the room at her, attempting to maintain an appropriately serious air but it was immensely difficult.  "So.  Are you still interested?"

"I'll have what you're having," Abby nudged her coffee mug to the middle of the table and rested her chin in her hand as her (flirty) gaze followed him to the kitchen.

Sasha smiled genuinely at her, and she smiled back, always pleased to fluster him, but what to do when the flusteree became the flustered? She could embrace this happy, warm feeling, she supposed. It was mutual! Mutual. Not that she'd doubted, but she felt like shouting it from his balcony. One of these days she'd tell him, for real. No games, no silly but endearing nicknames, just the words. Out loud.

Her heart beat a little faster as she took the offered drink, meeting his eyes as she sipped at it. "Hm. Love potion number nine? Not necessary. I'm already enamored."

She hid her grin behind her drink and shook her head at him as he announced the Great Patooter Reader. Oh no! She just knew that phrasing would pop up in her thoughts at the worst of times, like the next time she happened to see Yavin. But really, his firstborn? Abby wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it.

"Hmm," she tapped her finger on her chin thoughtfully. "Well sir, thank you for the offer sir, there's just one minor thing I'd like to clarify first."

Abby shuffled the notebook in front of her, straightening it as if it were a stack of paper.

"You claim to know everything about me from other sources, and so I assume you've included my friends in that survey?" Abby donned a serious expression. "If you've asked my friends - and my girlfriend, who is just lovely-" Abby raised one eyebrow, shrugged a shoulder and glanced at him with a knowing smile before getting back into character. "I'm sorry," she straightened in her seat. "Don't know what came over me. Um, if you've spoken to my friends, you should know that it's impossible to know everything there is about me. I have the depth of an ocean, Yavin. I'm not bragging," she blinked bashfully, "I'm simply restating what my friends know to be true."

Abby pulled out her phone, hid it behind her drink and quickly googled something.

"The ocean has many layers, or zones, if you will," she glanced up, then had to glance at her phone again and purse her mouth to keep from laughing. "First there's the photic zone," she nodded, and gestured at her own face. "Great for selfies. Very flattering to this handsome face. This is what everyone sees. But if you dive deeper..."

Abby stared at the screen for a moment, zooming in on the image.

"You'll find the pelagic zone! Otherwise known as the zone of puns that only those special to me are privy to. Uh, and finally..."

She scrolled down.

"The benthic and abyssal zones. Otherwise known as the abyss," Abby grinned and waved her phone. "It says that! Perfect for Level Nine! Anyway," she straightened in her seat and put her phone down. "I have layers, Yavin. I have depth. You should see my patronus."

She managed to keep a straight face for a few seconds, then turned her head and giggled silently. Abby picked up her notebook and then said, "Of course I'm interested. I lack any firstborn, which you should already know. Nothing you said has concerned me. Sign me up!"

Abby mimed signing the notebook with a flourish. She hopped out of her seat, walked up to Sasha and offered the 'contract' to him with both hands, totally politely.

"You are making this exceedingly difficult," Sasha pointed out, briefly abandoning his attempt at maintaining character as he extended the wine glass that had replaced the coffee mug out to her.  Meeting her gaze, he chuckled slightly before leaning over and pressing a light kiss to her cheek.  "Definitely no 1960s mop-top inspired love potions involved.  But, that almost makes me want a milkshake.  Almost."   

With a slight touch of reluctance, Sasha resumed his awkward lean against the mantel. 

Between the flirtatious improvisation and compliments, it was becoming clear that Abby was starting to pick up on some of the underlying causes for concern - even if she hadn't really recognized them as such, yet.  Since walking out of that office on Level 9, Sasha had been asking himself if he'd been overreacting.  He had more than enough reason to be paranoid about the motivations of strangers. 

Trying desperately to ignore the warmth in his cheeks, Sasha shook his head and tried to wave Abby off in the most Morgenthau-ish manner he could manage.  "No no - no reason to bother with such things.  We got ... uh ... all the information we need and there's no need to use so many words.  One of your classmates told me all I need to know.  I-"  His voice trailed off and he watched, curiously, as Abby fiddled with her phone behind her glass. 

Blushing brightly, he nodded his head and fought to keep his lips from hitching up into a grin.  "I will not deny it, yours is a face that is very well suited for the photic zone.  The fishes would flock to it but if you aren't careful about that pelagic zone, it'll have you kraken up before you escape." 

Of course, this was nothing like the actual interview - which he was exceedingly grateful for.  "Your most brilliant scientific adaptation of Shrek won't do anything to change my mind."  He grinned across at Abby before rolling his eyes.  "Now, I want a parfait."

"But, no no - none of that interests me.  I know all I need to know and, you -"  He grinned as she got up and crossed the room with the notebook, for a moment wavering between sticking to the original script and abandoning it in favor of the much more enjoyable joking.  But, as tempting as the alternative was, it wouldn't help him decide if he was over-reacting. 

After the moment's hesitation, he shook his head and waved the notebook away.  "No ... uh ... you can't decide now," he offered.  "You ... uh ... need to give it more thought and come back later with your decision.  Bear in mind that we take mistakes very seriously and people have been ... uh ... known to vanish.  Go now.  I'll see you in a week."

Abby stood in front of Sasha and held out the notebook, intentionally making it difficult by cracking another flirtatious smile. She made things difficult, but so did he, cracking jokes about kraken up that made her lose all sense of character and dissolve into giggles at the table. She couldn't even blame the wine. She'd only had a few sips. It was all Sasha.

She raised her eyebrows. His hesitation drew out longer than usual, even by Sasha standards. Sasha-Yavin standards? Best not to think about that.

Vanish? Abby's smile faltered. For a moment, she hesitated too, tucking the notebook under her arm and studying his face.

Vanish? She didn't like that word, or what it implied for Sasha.

"Impossible," she said firmly, tilting her chin in a prideful, pureblood-esque way very rarely seen on the young squib's face. She had it in her, but preferred determined cheer to arrogance.

"I'm much too adored to vanish."

Abby gave him one of her bright, dare-you-to-contradict-me smiles, and turned to take a seat at the table again. Her exact words, her exact phrasing, made her heart skip once, uncomfortably. She meant every word, from Sasha's perspective. She adored him far too much to ever let him vanish.

But she'd been adored and she had vanished anyway, hadn't she?

She crossed her legs and looked at him thoughtfully, leaving the notebook on the table. She took a sip of her wine.

"People make mistakes. That's what people do. I suppose I'll have a lot of thinking to do in a week's time, then. If you really mean what you say..."

Abby hesitated, the wine glass in her hand.

"Did he really mean what he said?" She asked in her usual voice, dropping the pretense.

It would not surprise me, a voice rose in her mind. Abby tilted her head and shook it off.

She must be overreacting. Yavin must have been joking. He had a strange sense of humor. Aha, sometimes people vanish, ha. But not her boyfriend. Not Sasha. Not after the week she'd had last week, after the day she'd had today, and the day she expected to have tomorrow. No. One of them, at least, should be okay. Safe.

Sasha waited quietly, watching Abby process the last bit without saying or doing anything else that might influence or sway her response.  He wanted to what conclusion she came to with just the simple depiction of the scene, devoid of any other suggestions. 

It was both gratifying and unsettling to watch the flirtatious joking slowly slip away and be replaced with unmistakable worry.  The confident little glimpse of her familial Reid connection was both endearing and a reminder that, despite having had similar experiences, they came from very different situations.  She was connected to a solid foundation within the wizarding community; if she were to suddenly vanish at work, people of importance would notice and react.  In contrast, he'd be easy to disappear.   There were few who'd notice, let alone react. 

Assuming, of course, he wasn't being overreactive and reading too much into something that wasn't there.  It would have been easier to dismiss if there hadn't been articles confirming such things had happened before. 

"Did he really mean what he said?"

"That's what I can't figure out," Sasha admitted as he crossed the room to join her, setting his own wine glass on the table before taking a seat.  "I can't tell if I'm just being hypersensitive or if there's more to it.  It definitely wasn't delivered as a joke - it was without question a parting warning.  Said it right as I got up to leave - so didn't invite any questions or comments." 

The delivery and substance of the comment was the easiest part to decipher.  That he was confident about.  The intent, unfortunately, wasn't as clear.

"What I can't figure out is whether it was a 'don't make that face, it might stick like that' type of serious warning or if it was an outright threat," he offered, gesturing air quotes.  "But, if it's mostly a joke, who makes that kind of joke during a job interview?"

Apparently Morgenthau. 

He shrugged and curled his legs up under himself.  "At the same time, I really want to be able to do this.  But, the thought of not having anyone I can trust to work with?  I don't know ... it's unnerving."

“It is unnerving.”

Abby fell quiet for several moments, processing everything Sasha had just told her. She’d hoped the job interview would go well for him, that there’d be no problems and he’d simply be accepted on Level Nine without hesitation from either party.

If she didn’t know Yavin Morgenthau at all she’d be tempted to say, it’s a joke! No one who wears such colorful, playful sweaters would make a serious threat about new employees vanishing. No one who walks around in his slippers would fault anyone for making a mistake or two. She’d be judging the situation completely on what she saw of him around the Ministry and what she knew from Virgil. A joke. Must be.

But she did know Yavin Morgenthau, a little. She’d met him last week and she’d vacillated between trusting him and wondering what was going on in his head to make him say certain things. He'd scared her at first, and he'd scared the hell out of her pentral. Had that just been a social blunder? A poor choice of words? She knew he'd meant exactly what he'd said when he'd threatened to put her pentral in a box for a minute. He'd meant that he would get her out of the way for a minute so they could talk. He'd seen a threat in the pentral and reacted strongly.

Abby tapped her fingers against her wine glass.

Carstairs too, had seen a threat and reacted strongly, there was no question about that. That had been later during the meeting. Yavin had seemed much kinder then. He’d held her hand, or rather, she had reached for his hand as her world was falling apart. He’d promised that she and the pentral would decide when the pentral would pass on, and that he wouldn’t hurt her like others had.

In the days afterwards, she'd wondered, in quiet moments, exactly what she wondered now. Did he mean what he said? Could she trust him?

Could Sasha?

Abby glanced up, looking at him sitting across from her. Her conflicted expression started to smooth out.

“You wouldn’t be alone. Virgil's on Level Nine, and he’s trustworthy,” she said with absolute faith. “But that does little good if you don't trust your boss. You should be able to trust the person you're working for."

The Ministry really knew how to keep the drones on their toes!

"I wouldn’t want you to miss out, but the rewards have to outweigh the risks, right? I think it's a question of whether you have more to gain by learning and growing there, or if you should play it safe and stay away. Plenty of people work for bosses they don't entirely trust, or they find their trust misplaced later, but with this kind of super secret spooky work, the trust has to be there."

Abby sipped at her wine, resting her hand on the table so that her fingers nudged the side of Sasha's hand.

"Maybe you could take more than a week to decide? I bet you could talk to V, or even someone Morgenthau doesn't think the world of, and get an idea of what it's really like. If they don't all speak in riddles and ah's and hm's," she smiled a bit, and then glanced down quickly, trying to hide her worry.

It was both reassuring and disappointing to hear Abby agree with his initial concerns.  On one hand, if she was seeing the same causes of worry that he was, then he wasn't being overly paranoid.  Or, at least, he wasn't being paranoid without some reason. 

But, a small part of him had hoped she'd dismiss his concerns in a way that would make it easier for Sasha to accept the offer.  He'd spent seven years running himself into the ground, shouldering two separate curricula, without any hope of ever being able to apply what he'd learned to anything practical and respectable.  He had accepted he would be forging his own path and reactions like Miranda Storm's would just be an inevitable part of the path. 

Now, there was this opportunity to apply and continue to foster that education but it came wrapped in so much doubt and uncertainty.  Didn't they already have enough of that, already?

Regrettably, Sasha had to shake his head when Abby mentioned Virgil.  "He was one of the sources of information," Sasha offered, with another shake of his head.  "It sounded like there was a very open line of communication between them.  I've never gotten the impression Virgil thinks that much of me, so I think I need to assume anything I tell Virgil will make it back to Morgenthau." 

Somehow, amidst his own confusion, Abby was able to sum up the situation in complete, yet beautifully simple, terms.  He smiled at her and responded to the slight brush of her hand against his by gently wrapping his fingers between hers.  "It seemed so perfect going into it; there's no shortage to the potential rewards.  I suppose, if I were to get lost in the bowels of the Ministry, I'm sure I'd find something intriguing to occupy my time.  I could live on in infamy as the Lost Hermit of Level 9." 

He offered a crooked grin and took a sip of wine.  "Finding someone he's not fond of would be a good idea.  Have you heard of any rumors like that at the Ministry?  Otherwise, I could post an anonymous personal ad in the Daily Prophet."  It would be good to have a better picture of who this man was, going into this.  He didn't need to see her averted gaze to realize the importance of that.  "I mean, the last thing either of us needs is more to worry about.  We've had more than enough of that; one would think we were overdue for a divine intervention on that front."

Abby raised her eyebrows, surprised. She'd been under the impression that Virgil really liked Sasha, or at least respected him, that they were friends. But perhaps Virgil's loyalty to Morgenthau meant telling his mentor most things when asked, likely just by speaking to each other in their own heads, and trusting that he'd use the information wisely and kindly.

She wondered if he'd said anything about Sasha that would cause Morgenthau to be cautious. Surely he knew that Sasha had been through enough and had so much to offer their world? Not just the muggle or magical but the one world they all lived in?

Abby gave his hand a squeeze. She might ask Virgil about it later. He'd told her that she could trust Yavin Morgenthau completely. She'd always felt that because she trusted V, she could trust whoever he trusted.

People, good people, still made mistakes though. That's what people did.

"Nonsense," Abby smiled at Sasha, her eyes serious. "If you ever got lost, I would find you."

She'd rally all of Level Two and lead the charge. No hermit life for Sasha!

"They won't allow me into the love chamber," she remarked with an all too innocent head tilt. "But they didn't say anything about bowels."

Abby let out a giggle. "You're obviously in there genetically engineering unicorn crystals."

She giggled over her wine, offering a shrug at his question about Level Nine rumors. She hadn't heard of anyone at the Ministry who disliked Yavin, or vice versa. Sasha was right though, they had more than enough to worry about.

"Stars preserve us," she said with a wistful smile, using her friend Nemo's wistful, poetic phrasing.

A selfish part of her just wanted Sasha at the Ministry to be around for her silly memos and to meet for coffee in the atrium and to make terrible puns with her in the lifts. She wanted him there on Level Nine not just because he was so well suited for it, but because she might need him there, come December. She wouldn't have to keep anything from him, if he knew.

Abby had told him the very, very basics in texts and other forms of less personal communication. The Ministry was making progress with the pentrals. They had a plan in place to make her better.

Which left out all the risks and dangers. Her fears, the slow merging of their personalities, her hesitation the more she got to know the pentral. Why she had died. How she'd died. How cruelly the stars had looked on and done nothing.

She wouldn't wish that knowledge on him, either. It wasn't quite fair. It felt more than what she'd ask of anyone.

So Abby brought his hand up and kissed his knuckles and looked into his eyes and said, "I don't know if I would call it divine intervention, but do you want to go out somewhere tonight? We could do a pub intervention."