“Not if he knows what’s good for him,” Jules assured Bruce, tapping his forefingers with a quick drum on the conference table to accompany his thoughts. “Because if he does, that ‘nail’ is going to find its way up his…”

Cepheus pointedly coughed to interrupt Jules before he could say something unprofessional. The two Division Heads exchanged a nod of understanding at the unspoken ending to that sentence. Best not to push it, thought Jules, his excitement over Balfour agreeing with the Alliance requiring a check there. What people said in private with friends was often different to what they said in big press conferences, after all. That was politics.

“Should I memo Brin?” Jules asked, “Get him to soften him up for you?”

Despite the seriousness of the topic, Vincent was game for Abbott's messing around. He leaned forward and offered the man a laugh and a grin under Cepheus's cough. Vincent didn't have the old friendship with old Carstairs that Balfour and Brinley Abbott had, so he'd leave them to play cigars and snifters on their own.

"Don't let the bastards get you down, Bruce," Vincent said. Must be hard for her, being the only woman in so many rooms, having to play your mood just right. "I'm with you."

Whatever that meant. Vincent scratched at a scar behind his ear. "Me, I'm in muggle paperwork purgatory."

The Beasts Division was trying to negotiate a permanent easement across muggle-owned private land, a sort of right-of-way for a unicorn herd, but it all had to be done through Level One because they were impersonating a muggle government office. Vincent felt like he could have managed it with a pint and a false mustache, but no.

"Soften him up?" Bal snorted, shooting a look at their Head Spook as he put on his reading glasses. "I don't even want to imagine what that involves. Don't bother Brin, he'll think I can't fight my own battles."

It didn't matter who was Minister of Magic sometimes - it was not a popular position and whoever took it on quickly found themselves under heavy fire of criticism regardless of how well thought of they were before. Not that he was a fan of Solomon in those days - still, he benefited from their acquaintance.

Balfour took a folder off the top of the stack he had brought to the meeting.

"Leave Carstairs to me, Bruce," he glanced at her distractedly. "Never you mind what I say to him. Mostly depends on what he has to say for himself anyway."

As much as he liked her heading up the Werewolf Wing, Bal didn't like to linger on Ballentyne's grumbling or this particular brand of backseat driving.

The wizard patted down his suit pocket to procure a self-inking quill. "Now that Vince has us started on the subject of paperwork..." he raised his eyebrows. "Shall we move on?"

Jules and Vincent backed her up, and it gave Bruce the bit of confidence that she needed. Here in this room, this department, this Ministry and anywhere other than her own home, she was Bruce, the witch who didn’t take things lying down. Iona had been putting up a front since the attack, letting the jokes land and making some of her own. She’d stood up to Carstairs, pushing for what her and her fellow werewolves needed, but it all had to be done in the right way.

Iona Ballentyne felt like she couldn’t be just Iona here, for she was walking a tightrope, and had been for years. She’d been a hunter, spending decades tracking down werewolves and caging them, building camaraderie with witches and wizards including those around this table. Each of them knew the warrior who probably had a little too much bluster and made daft jokes. That was because she couldn’t show them just how angry and scared she really was. It would be seen either as werewolf rage or merely being an emotional witch. Zora got to see the real anger and fear.

It took a lot to not bite back at Balfour when he told her to leave the big boss to him. As if the rage inside her didn’t matter.
“Best you don’t tell me what to mind, Balfour.” The Welsh witch said, her voice peppered with a touch of spice. “If your discussion with the Minister has anything to do with werewolves, the ELF or my damned attackers, then it is my bloody business and I will mind as much as I like until someone sacks me for minding too bloody much.”

With a shake of her head, Iona threw her arms up in the air. “But by all means, move on, discuss paperwork.” she pushed herself up from her chair. “Enjoy.” she couldn’t stay for this, she needed air.

"Oh..." Vincent moaned at the uncomfort of Bruce's non-acceptance of Balfour's decree. It was a classic Bruce move but not necessarily unwarranted. Maybe they'd all pop off like a Howler if they were in her position.

When she got up to leave, Vincent waited only a moment, but then rose to follow her.

"Bruce, hang on," he said, then made a deferential bow thing to Spectre as he attempted to literally duck out after Bruce.

"Unicorn relocation's stopped up waiting on One, still.[1] And dragon-handlers need re-certified in first aid so I'll talk to Marrowbone about that."

He hoped that would cover his bases if he couldn't get back in a few minutes.

1.	Previous post in this thread.

Outside of the boardroom, Bruce turned to a wall, slamming her palm against it in frustration as Fournier emerged. She turned to him, her usually pale face red with anger.

“If that man tells me to stay in my box again, I am blasting a hex straight through his chest.” Bruce told her colleague, her heavily accented voice even stronger than usual. “Never you mind what I say to Carstairs. Bloody ridiculous. It was me they bloody targeted. My barn, my safehouse, my damned leg. But I need to stay in my box because it’s got bugger all to do with me, apparently. Balfour Big Boots wants to swing his bloody Scottish cock about and show us all who’s packing the most?”

Iona took a breath, but it did nothing to calm her rage at having been brushed off for paperwork.
“You can tell that spineless worm not to come near me today. I hope he chokes on a rich tea biscuit.” She didn’t mean it, or did she? It was mostly just bluster, but saying it helped. With a shake of her head, Iona took off down the corridor, cane clicking loudly on the tiled floor.

"Oh," Vincent muttered in response to finding that Bruce inside the board room was Bruce keeping it together. He turned his head to listen, his eyebrows raised in concern. There wasn't to say really, other than there was no mistaking now that Bruce felt completely abandoned and that Balfour should watch his step if he wanted to keep their relationship intact. The matter was too serious for him to crack a smile at her poetry, though it would have been deserving a laugh if it had been done over pints.

"Alright, I'll see you later," he called after her, hoping it was true. He took a minute to scratch his head before returning to work.

Fin