“Dido!” Yelled the former werewolf hunter from her semi disorganised office. She was stood in front of the desk, wand in hand as sheets of parchment danced off piles, floated before her gaze and found new piles. Blue eyes scanned each quickly but she was getting more frustrated when her eyes failed to find what they sought. “Dido!” She called again, not really giving the girl much time to respond after the first call.

When the office door did open, Bruce turned to see her assistant in the threshold. Today, Iona Ballentyne didn’t have her usual calm demeanour. In truth, the witch’s general appearance was rarely calm with her wild fiery red hair and ‘I’d rather be wrestling wolves than chained to my desk’ clothing vibe. Today, there was something different and she clearly was on edge.

This week had seen the start of the registration amnesty. Bruce had been keeping a close eye on numbers each day but she knew they could be better. If they were to be able to make it a regular thing, the numbers needed to be much improved to convince Spectre and Glass that it was the viable solution over punishment. Better numbers would also help her case for more supportive funding for registered werewolves. Everything she was working towards hinged on her unregistered peers showing their trust in her and the ministry she worked for.

What Bruce hadn’t accounted for, however, was the pile of crap that was to go down that night. The unprofessional part of her hadn’t wanted to present Spectre with the letter she’d received yesterday morning, but she had, and now the ball was rolling. No one wanted this but they all knew there was no choice. When Bruce was held over a cliff edge, she desperately tried to claw her way back up.

“I’m looking for…you know…the letter with the…annual numbers. Werewolf registration numbers and that other stuff I put together. It’s not in any of my piles here. Have you hidden it in that tidy up you did last week?” It wasn’t to sound ungrateful. Ballentyne appreciated she had someone to keep on top of things, but she understood her parchment piles. They were her parchment piles and this wasn’t the time to lose anything.

Ballentyne yelling for her was, admittedly, something Dido might miss about being the redhead's assistant. In a weird masochistic way.

She appeared at the threshold of the forever-messy office, still chewing on the sandwich she tried washing down with tea. The Boss was looking as frazzled as ever, with a hint of frustration that told her she was going to need to be super tactful when she asked about transferring to the WCU.

             "I’m looking for…you know…the letter..."

"Mm, yesh," Dido swallowed and wiped her hands on a napkin, which she quickly crumpled up and stuck in her pocket as she approached . "All the registration stuff has its own special place now."

The young witch opened a file cabinet and took out an immense folder, which she deposited on Bruce's desk with aplomb. "Everything sorted by dates so the letter was, what, last week?" she flipped it open to the right page. "I think that's it."

Dido looked up at the werewolf then, as if she just realised Ballentyne wasn't at her usual level of grumpiness.

"You alright boss?"

All of the registration stuff now had its own special place, according to Dido. In the filing cabinet by the door. In a lovely ordered folder. Dido flicked through a few pages and yep, that was it. Bruce took it and nodded. It had always amazed Bruce that her assistant was the same age as her daughter but just got stuff done. Waverley? She flounced about like a billy goat prancing up and down a hill looking for better grass to chomp on when the grass next to her was fine.

“Spectre should pay you more.” Bruce muttered, eyes scanning the paper. “I’ll tell him.” But maybe when she was calm enough to speak to him without burning the bridges that they had been slowly building. “Another day.” Bruce knew that thanks to the curse, emotions could make her say things out of order and she didn’t need to see red today. A level head was needed to tackle this.

The question surprised her, and Bruce pushed her glasses up onto her head, further messing up her hair. Blue eyes found Dido and she rose her eyebrows. “Actually, no.” Responded the werewolf with a shrug. If anyone knew Bruce well enough, they knew she didn’t lie and she didn’t sugar coat. “I didn’t take this job for my own sanity though, so joke’s on me.”

She liked that Ballentyne was real with her. A lot of Brits were just like, oh yes i'm fine or whatever, but she could expect her boss to actually answer a question without assuming it was a nicety. And yeah... it was kind of a thrill to hear an experience professional say it like it is, as Dido were special enough to be given a peak behind the curtain of gruff Werewolf Wing wixes.

"Why did you take this job then?" she heard herself blurt out the question and almost clamped a hand over her mouth. "Um. I mean, I know it's to make a difference and all that but like..."

Maybe she shouldn't have been surprised the question popped out like that. Her decision to join the Werewolf Catchers weighed heavy on the heart and mind: one moment excited, the next moment terrified.

"Was there ever something else you wanted to do?" Dido was genuinely curious, fiddling anxiously with one of her clamshell earrings. "Or was it always going to be this kind of thing?"

Ginger eyebrows perked up when Bruce’s assistant asked why she’d taken her job. What a strange question, she considered. Most people hadn’t thought to ask. Instead, they merely presumed. Surely the former hunter wanted now to gain some control over her life? Or perhaps she sought the glory she’d once had. Maybe it really was all about making a difference. No one really cared for the truth from Ballentyne. It was as if her words didn’t really matter because minds were already made up.

“This job or my old job? Those two questions have very different answers.” Bruce leaned back against a bookshelf, blue eyes dancing over Dido’s face with mild suspicion. “I was asked to take this on in the hopes of providing a new set of eyes and instincts. The werewolf hunter job? I was fascinated by magical creatures and good at hexes. I thought it would be great pay for just one night of real work a month.” Bruce smirked and shrugged. “I was seventeen and got a bit of a shock when I found out how many hours they put in. But it was a boys club and I could often fight better than the boys. Seemed right. I was never academic or serious enough to be an auror.”

“Don’t say I’m about to lose you to that pompous lot because that would be embarrassing.”

Two answers - two very different answers, from different points of Ballentyne's life. Dido related better to the second one; the fascination of it all and the reluctance to take on a more academic job. She couldn't even imagine Bruce being an auror. Especially considering her attitude and many memos to the big guy on level two.

            "Don’t say I’m about to lose you..."

Dido's expression was answer enough. The younger witch laughed nervously, now fiddling with the links of her wristwatch. "W-ell..." she began. "It's just that I've been... I mean. Like, don't get me wrong boss, this personal assistant stuff is great but watching you at work really got me thinking about what we do here in the Werewolf Wing."

That was not as articulate as she wanted, tumbling out in a confusion, but she pressed on anyway. "I want to do more. I want to... I want to be on the ground, not in the parchment. I think I could really be useful."

As Dido began to explain the reasoning behind her impromptu question, Bruce listened. As Bruce listened, her eyebrows slowly rose and her lips parted. Not losing her to the Aurors. Nope. Worse. Losing her to her own division. Losing her to Bagnold and his silver chains and gruff nature and possible death or maiming or being cursed.

Not yet trusting herself to yet form any words of encouragement or polite comment, Bruce remained silent, crossing her arms.

“Hm.” Blue eyes darted down to the report, the words dancing on the page before her but not sinking in. Dido was owed a response from her boss.

“Here I was thinking that I was the antithesis of a recruitment advert for the Werewolf Capture Unit. The wonders will never cease.” She looked back up, still not offering a smile. Instead, a frown was now furrowing her expression. Dido was good at what she did, not that her boss shared this opinion often if at all. But, despite the odd complaint from a witch painfully set in her ways, things were organised and the Head of the Werewolf Wing actually managed to be where she should be on time. Dido was a good assistant. Perhaps too good to join the silver moonlight gang.

“Your curriculum vitae fails to mention how you hold up in a fight with mature and powerful beasts, Tansi.” A pause. “You’ve met Bagnold, yes?” Perhaps that might be reason enough to change her mind? Despite his efficiency, not everyone thrived working with the grumpy werewolf hunter. He was an acquired taste. Like arsenic.

She wasn't expecting Bruce to jump for joy but her initial reaction totally unnerved Dido for a second. Like, not even comical surprise? Just. Hm.

The younger witch allowed herself to be only briefly daunted, standing straighter as her Boss appropriately brought up the question of qualification - then, hilariously, Bagnold. Poster boy man of the Werewolf Capture Unit. It was like someone put her jaded nan in the body of a white wizard; Merlin knew what it took to get him to crack a real smile.

"I got all the grades to apply," she answered first the question of ability. "I don't scare easy. I know I don't show it but I can fight. I'm willing to learn."

Organising folders and appointment books wasn't exactly a great display of her  other skills, though it had been a while since she duelled. The learning curve was gonna be hellish steep. Somehow, the scarier the challenge the more she wanted to do it.

"And I mean... Bagnold is Bagnold." Dido shrugged, "I gotta work under him, not introduce him to the family. He's just a guy."

Everyone, at the end of the day, was just some wix she worked with. There was a boundary there. The WCU folk were assholes but they were assholes here, not in her private social sphere where she could pick and choose who entered. Dido tried not to take that stuff personally. If Bagnold was grumpy that was his problem, not hers.

Dido attempted to sell her ability at fighting while Bruce found herself chewing the inside of her mouth. Decades ago, youth had made her dive into the job with no real understanding, just a need to be active and show what she could do. She’d sought excitement. Bruce had been rather oblivious to what the job really meant and how damaging it could be. Now she knew and she’d paid a price for her youthful ignorance. The young Dido? She’d been part of their department for several months, gaining an understanding, yet she still wanted to dive in.

Bruce listened, still biting the inside of her cheek. Bagnold was just a guy. Had to work under him. That was it. That really wasn’t it, though, was it?

“Hm.” There is was again. The ‘hm’ as she once more wasn’t sure what words to form.

There was a pause, Bruce now with her lips pressed together, blue eyes dancing over her young assistant. She sighed and threw the report down on the cluttered desk.
“Bagnold isn’t just a guy.” The Head of the Werewolf Wing stated, now limping back around her desk to the chair. She didn’t yet sit down. “He is the wizard that I trust with my life. He is the grumpy bastard that I have gone into many deadly situations with and come out the other side of. He is the reason I’m alive today. Not just a guy. That unit is a family.” Did Dido realise this, or was she believing it was just a job?

A family. That didn't sit right with her - when she thought of family she thought of her actual family, as much as folk went round with the concept of families you find yourself. There was nothing Bagnold could say that would devastate her as much as withering look from her nan.

"You get along with everyone in your family?" Dido's eyebrows went up, hint of adolescent sarcasm creeping into her voice. "My life in his hands, trust, bonds, sure. In theory. So he's just a guy until he's more than just a guy."

There was no way she could predict what her relationship with the WCU was going to be like: if she'd hate them and quit after a month, if they really would be close as blood brothers and sisters, if Bagnold would ever be more than a grumpy boss figure clanking about in silver.

But she wasn't going into it expecting those things; she definitely didn't expect to mirror Ballentyne's experience. How could she?

"I'm just saying it's not enough to be put me off," Dido shrugged. "Not going into this thinking it's rainbows and butterflies. It's lives on the line, and not just my own."

“Hell no.” Bruce’s response to the question about getting along with family came a little too quick. Her wife? Yes. Parents? Mostly. Daughter? Sometimes. In-laws? Never. They didn’t even accept her as family, even after the 25 years that she’d been with Zora. But that wasn’t what mattered here. You could choose your family, and, within reason, they type of job you took on. But those people you risked life and limb with often became like family.

Dido didn’t seem dissuaded, and it wasn’t exactly her boss’ intention to do such. Heck, Bruce was on the back foot with the sudden proposal of a career shift, leaving her without a capable assistant and an extra werewolf hunter to mind.

“Good. It’s brutal. And thankless. But exhilarating and exciting and terrifying. You’re driven to your extremes and then some.” The former hunter then frowned, seriously. “The number of hunters that get to choose retirement is pretty low. Hence the hazard pay. But, I don’t blame you for wanting to give it a try, Dido, I’d have done anything for a few more years of it. Still would.” After an awkward smile and a shrug, Bruce sat down in her chair.

“Put your application in. We’ll give it serious consideration.”

It was chilling to hear Bruce talk about the low survival rate so naturally, a fact taken for granted. Dido knew that of course - she knew she could die doing this one day, maybe even sooner rather than later.

But she had to have confidence in being able to make it through; there was no other way, hesitation only increased the odds of death. Do or die.

       “Put your application in. We’ll give it serious consideration.”

"I will," she replied quickly, failing to repress an excited little smile. "Thanks, boss. Really. If I make it in I promise I'll give it my all, I'm no slacker."

Dido left Ballentyne to her day and returned to her own desk outside, where she hoped her working days were numbered. A half-eaten sandwich still on the table, tea gone cold. Her appetite was gone anyway. She had a lot of stuff to think about after that talk.