5 April 2012
10:00am, Thursday
Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures
Ministry of Magic

Her friends thought she was crazy, but Wilhemena Gunn was indulging herself. He was young, simple, and eager. She liked telling him what to do and he acted like the dog what stole the bone. It had been a month now since the blowup with Bill and this new piece, he'd just been right there, glowing, and everything Bill wasn't. She deserved the little snack.

He had started making excuses to come to Level Four, tempting fate and other things. He always brought her something from Blackwood.

Wil could see him now through her open office door; he was chatting up the receptionist. Her tea resting on the counter. She could see the corners of his smile from this angle, the way he laughed so easily, how he leaned on the desk without any of the pretense others had for the Ministry of Magic. Wil tapped her pen against her chin as she watched. He'd answer for this, making her wait, flirting. And then she saw. He glanced over, meeting her gaze from across the foyer then turned back to the receptionist. Wilhemena sucked her teeth and sat back. Little shit. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Wilhemena pretended to get back to her remarks. A child werewolf had run away, and as the spokeswitch for the Werewolf Wing, it was on Wilhemena Gunn to calm the torch-and-pitchfork crowd while the WCU safely and humanely collected little miss Temple.[1] Presently, Figaro Sellaphix appeared in her open doorway.

"I told you, keep coming here like this and people are going to find out," she said looking up.

Figaro shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about. Just bringing your order, Ms Gunn. Three sugars." As if he was some kind of official assistant, and not a part-time werewolf safehouse attendant.

He approached and set the cup down on her desk and slid his hands into his pockets. Wilhemena looked at him cooly. Then reached for the tea.

"Tomorrow night. Eight o'clock. Provisions.[2]" She looked him up and down, his well-worn trousers, ratty Adidas, band t-shirt.  "Wear a suit."

Figaro broke out in a grin and rocked on his heels as he turned to go. He'd never eaten so well.

1.	3 Apr 2012 - URGENT: Daughter Ran Away
2.	Fancy muggle restaurant in Marylebone.