For all of the tension that was stirring in the office, Archer could not help but know a little more than everyone else about the situation.  He had been fortunate (perhaps unfortunate) enough to come across Tamis Raynor in one of her weakest moments and neither of them had spoken of it since the evening.  It had been a revealing conversation and turn of events that left both of them just a bit uncomfortable, so it was best to ignore it.  Though he maintained his typical demeanor, he couldn’t help but think of lavender every time he saw her.  It was an overall frustrating situation. 

So, with that in mind, he took it upon himself to traverse from the Auror Office up to International Magic Cooperation, or whatever the department was called and check up with Dreogan Eleor.  He knew the man from his many encounters with intersecting jurisdictions (only common quite recently, actually), but had known him before.  Now he was involved with one of the cases specifically, others on the fringe, but the one that Archer and Ray were taking on – trying to reason out – the Katz abduction.  They knew the mark meant something, but had no leads and no suspects.  It felt cold already.

It was the best excuse he had for getting out of the office and doing something productive at the same time.  So, up the level five he went, using the stairs because he didn’t really trust lifts.  As much as they said they were safe, Archer had his doubts.  Up the flights and out, he walked through the lobby, looking around confusedly for a moment.  It was usually others who came to the auror office, not him going to people, so this was a bit odd.  Spotting a young witch at a desk, looked like a receptionist, Archer sauntered over with a smooth smile.

She peered up through her thick lashes, “Can I help you, Sir?” she smiled in a way that Archer recognized – he always liked feeling handsome. 

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his badge, letting her see it clearly, to take in his impressive designation as an auror and smiled, “Would you care to point me in the direction of Mr. Dreogan Eleor?”

Her brown eyes widened and cheeks flushed a little pink, nodding eagerly.  “One moment,” she smiled and shuffled through some papers, looking for a chart.  Apparently she was new and learning the layout.  Well, Archer would give her a moment, and stood casually by the desk, letting his eyes cruise over the office.  And then  he saw it – the mop of dark, curly hair that would have given him away from over a thousand meters.  “Oh, I see him. Thank you anyway, Miss,” he smiled at her, she blushed again and then pitched forward, jogging through the office to some degree so he wouldn’t lose him.

“Eleor!” he called out, "Hey!" he caught up, slowing his body down, "What's the rush?" he seemed to be in something of a hurry - of course, they both were, and Archer put his hands in his pockets, glancing at the other man - hopefully he was not too busy for this bit of unofficial-official business.

Dreogan was not accustomed to hearing his name yelled -- not in this office, at least. Truth was, he couldn't even get the receptionist to remember his name. But identifying the voice, Dreogan shook his head, halted, and turned.

He suddenly had some sympathy for Adon's work environment, if all the Aurors in the office "hallooed" to each other in such a way. He hid his amusement to the best of his ability as he saw the bear-like man lumbering forward, charging and then trying to stop the resulting force of inertia and momentum. He managed to pull a very straight face by the time Archer had arrived.

"Radley," he said in a very stiff, officious tone, surveying the man a moment before breaking into a customary and easy smile. "No rush. Just walking. Why are you making chase?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Don't get me wrong: good to see you." He looked towards the direction he had initially been headed and shrugged, turning back. It could wait. The letters of inquiry he had to send were not time-sensitive. If Archer planned to stick around until the end of the day, well, then that might get problematic.

"Follow me," he said, turning in the direction he had just come from, crossing before the reception desk. "Catriona," he nodded, intrigued as she seemed to blush crimson and finally stammer out , "M-mister Eleor." He wondered how she had finally learned his name. Perhaps in an office of only twenty people, she was finally working her way down the list. Dreogan was fourth, alphabetically on the list.

They arrived at Dreogan's office, dimly lit by a slightly grimy window -- the London air did little to let the light in. A small, spider plant rested on the sill, only slightly browning at the tips. It was Dreogan's new challenge. Tabitha was able to keep herself alive through persistence and constant caterwauling. But could Dreogan keep a non-vocal organism alive? The experiment had been going on for two weeks. It was not dead yet.

Paper besieged a mission lamp (left continually on) and overwhelmed the desk which, however broad, still required Dreogan to, with an unspoken spell, part  several high, neat stacks as one might the Red Sea so he might have a clear path between Archer and himself. He didn't much like it -- the sitting on one side of the desk and Archer on the other. It felt official. But, after all, perhaps this visit was.

Archer was not accustomed to operating in an office that was not constantly alive with motion and sound.  Aurors were constantly contacting one another, calling across cubicle tops and making sure they had details right and everyone was on the same page.  It was a very vocal profession and required a good set of lungs.  So, when the heads popped up to see what the blazes was going on, Archer realized that he was not in the Auror office and that these people were far more used to quiet and peace, causing him to clear his throat and lower his voice. 

It wasn’t his purpose to come down and disrupt the day to day lives of the desk jockeys, well, not all of them, just Eleor.  He wanted to make sure things were going well – wanted to see if he found out anything they didn’t know. Archer was pretty much banned from talking to the victim – she showed a distinct fear for him for some reason, and he didn’t see the need in upsetting her, he wasn’t so much for dealing with those that were hurt anyway – he liked to handle the ones that did the hurting.  Retribution in kind. 

“Just trying to catch up,” he grinned easily, keeping pace, if only by virtue of his long legs versus the shorter of Dreogan.  He was always lucky he was tall, or he would probably keep everyone waiting by nature.  He just didn’t move quickly for almost any reason, it wasn’t in his nature, so to have to keep up with Dree would have been difficult if not for the blessing of five or so extra inches.  Nodding, he followed Eleor into his office, a little disgruntled he got an office, but glad because it offered them the privacy to talk without worry of being overheard and the investigation compromised.

For the most part, they were trying to keep everything in the office and as quiet as possible.  No much press was given for valid reasons and Archer wasn’t trying to advertise, he just wanted to make sure everything that could be done was being done – he was sure Dreogan felt the same way.  Taking a seat across the desk, Archer raised his eyebrows, waiting for the papers to be moved – it was kind of impossible to actually have a conversation when the paper skyscrapers were in the way. 

Quickly dispelled with a little bit of wordless magic, the papers split and Archer felt at ease.  Much better.  “Nice office, Eleor” he started, adjusting himself in the seat – it was a little low so his knees were uncomfortably close to his chest.  He had to fix that, “better than the cubicles they shove us in – feel like a bloody bull penned in a baby fence sometimes.”  He rolled his eyes at the 'conditions' he was forced to work under and smirked, "Receptionist is pretty.  Is she new?"

Dreogan laughed outright at the description of the Auror's working conditions. "You know," he said, leaning in across the desk, "they put blinders on high-spirited horses to keep them from getting . . . skittish." He smirked before leaning back into his chair. Yeah, he liked it. Especially how it swivelled. "Maybe they're just trying to contain the chaos. You've managed to contain Adon by now, I'd imagine?"

Watching Archer shift uncomfortably in his seat, Dreogan tilted his head and smirked. "I'm not a medieval despot. I don't need the tallest chair in the room, Arch. If you want to raise the chair," he shrugged. The man had a wand. He didn't need to do everything for him.

"Catriona. She's been here a little under a month. Finally learned my name today," he said, stating this small victory. He still didn't have anyone to replace Rema, his assistant currently away on maternity leave still. He didn't trust Catriona enough with anything beyond basic duplicating spells and dispatch of correspondence.

Smirking and raising an eyebrow, he evaluated Archer, knowing that look. And also knowing Archer didn't mean it. "She's too young for you, you know." He evaluated the man across the desk a moment before adding, "And how are things above?" He hadn't been, hadn't talked to Adon about it since Akiva had been found, though he was anxious to know how things progressed. There had been a time when Dreogan had visited Archer upstairs. Now the man seemed to understand he could not exactly feel welcome there. With a bit of a guilty smile, he asked, "Things settling down?"

“No one can every truly contain an auror, Eleor,” he smirked.  His brother was a pistol, Archer quite liked him, to be honest.  He wasn’t afraid to mess with people and he was creative about it. He could get out of most anything too, from the looks of it – though Ray was a little slower to take up on the fact that he was a wordsmith at times.  His mood sobered at the thought of Ray: she had been having that affect on him lately.  Contemplative and just a little more moody than usual. 

He figured his brother could appreciate the wordsmith Adon was, considering he was now baiting the large man.  Rolling his eyes, he took the wand from the holster under his arm and tapped the side of the chair, it grew comfortably under him.  “No, medieval despot doesn’t work – Inquisitional torture artist comes to mind,” he snorted.  Of course, now he was far more comfortable and could easily stretch in it.  Chairs should have been fashioned specially for him. 

Putting the wand back into the holster, he leaned back easily and comfortably.  Raising his eyebrows, he smirked – foreign sounding name, no surprise in this department.  She was pretty, a bit young, of course, but still pretty.  He liked to think he wasn’t old enough to where it would be creepy.  He wasn’t forty yet, after all.  His stomach dropped at the mere thought.  It dropped further when Dree mentioned she was too young.  “Wasn’t asking for me,” he clarified, clearing his throat, “though I guess you couldn’t count on anything there either,” smirked amusedly, “did you introduce her to Adon yet?”

If Adon was like Archer summed him up to be, he’d be interested enough at least for a week.  It amused him, how much he could see of him.  So amusing.   Less amusing was the talk of the Auror office.  Archer sighed, shaking his head.  “They’re going,” he figured the case was being referenced and he really wasn’t to talk about much, but there wasn’t anything to talk about.  “Some theories going around, but nothing concrete.  Without evidence or statements, we don’t much of have anything to go on.” 

It wasn’t what the man wanted to hear, he knew, but it was the truth.  He wouldn’t lie to him about it, that would just be cruel.  “What about you?  Things going well?  Anything of interest come up?” he wasn’t the most tactful, but he figured Dreogan would know what he meant anyway, no reason to veil it behind anything other than truth.

Dreogan lifted a brow, returning the man's smirk. "So says the guard of the Panopticon* from his cell," he joked in return.

Inquisition, however. Now that was interesting. "If I recall correctly, you came to me. Next time, I'll have you sit in the comfy chair, though." He frowned. He might not get that joke. To his knowledge, most Mages didn't watch Monty Python.

Anyhow. Dreogan cleared his throat and shook his head. "I haven't found many ways to contain things here and so, no. I have not introduced Catriona to The Chaos." That was the last thing he needed. He did, however, find Archer's muttered secondary response interesting. Couldn't count on anything there? "Numbers have never been my strong suit, Archer, so break this down for me. Why shouldn't I be counting?" he teased.

To his inquiries -- it seemed there was nothing fruitful on either end and, that being the case, Dreogan did not much want to dwell on fated subjects -- Dreogan simply frowned and shrugged. "Not really. No. You'd be one of the first to know, you know?" he added, feeling the need to reassure the Auror. He wasn't sure what, exactly, was being said about him in their office nowadays. Adon didn't talk much about work anymore. He knew he was not very popular; if he ever was.

 *Panopticsm refers to a system of authority/power in which the ideological state apparatus of legal enforcement serves to create a sense of self-autonomy and self-governance by giving its inmates the impression that they are, in fact, disciplining themselves before the law can. Dree here is joking that Archer is both the inmate and the guard in this system.

Archer had absolutely no idea what Dreogan meant sometimes.  While Archer could usually understand a joke related to law enforcement, to magic, to quidditch, and to less savory topics, anything to do with words he could not understand or concepts that he assumed were only useful in talking about theories that didn’t have much to do with life at all.  Shrugging it off, he gave an awkward sort of laugh – ignoring it for the most part.

He wasn’t there to discuss theories or have a grammar lesson.  He was there for a spot of work and just an escape from the office for a little while.  Of course, he did understand their talk of the little secretary and snorted at his comparison of Adon to Chaos.  He did get that.  “Ah… protecting the poor girl, I see.”  He was about to move on when Dree seemed to question him and it took him a second to realize the man was kidding. 

It would have stricken him as quite odd for Dreogan Eleor to say something like that.  Not some other people, but it was a joke.  He smiled and Archer rolled his eyes, “I think you know the answer to that one yourself, and if you don’t, you better learn it quick.”  Not that Archer was one to give advice on the female front, but he figured it was all about joking around hey, he could do the same.  Leaning back in the chair and stretching his legs out, he anticipated the next part of the conversation to be less productive –and less amusing.

Sighing softly, he nodded.  “I figured, just wanted to check,” he clasped his large hands in his lap and looked at them for a moment, trying to pull his thoughts together.  “Anything is better than what we have at the moment,” he said truthfully, there was no need to lie to him.  Archer didn’t feel that he should keep it from him either.  “It’s running it’s course toward being declared cold unless something happens – good or bad.” 

Dreogan's eyes glinted mischievously at Archer's response. "M-hm. I've got it figured you. You don't need to worry," he said. He and Kiva -- well, they were still doing well. And he'd figured Archer out a while back. "So I take it things are going well down there," he said, looking down as though he might be able to see through the floor to Level Two and Raynor's office. He wasn't sure if that was what Archer had been driving (or arriving) at, but it was a good litmus test.

He couldn't very well understand it -- Archer's attraction to Tamis -- beyond perhaps a physical attraction, but Archer was not like him. It was, no doubt, attributable to some personal difference.

And it returned back to talk of that August. Dreogan nodded. "We have her back. It's an improvement over how things . . . went the last time," he said somewhat haltingly. "I have visited some of the coffee shops -- no one seems suspicious. I went back with Kiva. No one seems familiar. The scar. . ." he shrugged. "I just don't know."

Archer shrugged at his question about things going well.  “It’s a bit tense – busier than it’s been in ten years – good and bad.”  He didn’t want to dive too much into the issues that were going on down there, particularly the ones fostered outside of work only days earlier, but that wasn’t really what he was here to discuss.  It wasn’t his life to dissect, and he certainly had no crime to solve in that department.  It was perhaps why it was so frustrating to him – not having something to puzzle together – it was all in front of him and he just had to decide what to do with the newly complete puzzle – put it together and hang it on the wall, or ‘accidentally’ let a piece slide and tuck it away forever.

He was already starting to get frustrated with the second option, but Ray was her normal self, so he couldn’t be persuaded to do anything if she wasn’t acting like anything was different.  Truly frustrating in many ways, Archer was glad to have some work to apply himself to.  He was interested in trying to maybe even go to the library himself to look at cult symbolism, if the office got that suffocating. 

With a knowing nod, Archer listened to what Dreogan had to offer – which was very little more (nothing more really) than what they had to begin with and he sighed.  “Thank you for checking the coffee shops,” he started, glad to see something was at least proactively done – and with Akiva.  It’d be easier to jog her memory if she was involved.  Of course, going off of what was proposed in her evaluation, it was going to take more than a gentle jogging to get anything out – some heavy duty, badly performed spells were done to her, and that was going to involve some careful work. 

“We’re in the same place,” he assured Dreogan – since he had been sharing as much information as he could with the man.  He knew his interest was in the right place and Archer was never a fan of hiding things from those close to victims or the department, those who he could trust.  He knew he could trust Dreogan, at the least.  “Your brother was able to find evidence of magic at the scene of the drop-off, but nothing in the shack – so it’s likely nothing was done there.  I’m interested in following up with the scar though; it’s nothing we’ve ever seen before.  If you get any word down here on any international organizations, let us know.  We’ll run the MO and brand against it, if it’s documented.” 

He was a good member of the corps and wanted to help as much as possible.  Hopefully, this would work for the best. 

Dreogan's eyebrows raised a bit at his assessment. Ten years. Things that bad? "Really," he said, frowning slightly. "Well," he continued, because you had to say something after a thing like that, "if there's anything I can do. . ."

While Dreogan wondered if most Auror's office doubted his competence, he knew at least that Archer did not. They had, after all, began writing each other at a time when Dreogan was considering law enforcement as a career. Had he finished school, he would have qualified, though that was moot now, for Dreogan would not have wanted such a career. To become the enforcer, the discipliner. . . He much preferred intervening. Supporting. Protecting. And while he realised that the Aurors here did all that, it did come with the underbelly of punishing, imprisoning. Security and protection in Israel -- that had been the job he truly loved.

"Thank you for checking the coffee shops," Archer said. Dreogan shook his head dismally. It wasn't enough and they both knew it. Dreogan suspected that Archer would not have wanted to visit a Muggle establishment if he could have avoided it anyhow.

His expression brightened slightly at the mention of Adon -- and the praise embedded in the comment. He liked to hear his brother doing well. Even if he didn't particularly like the career path for him either. It was dangerous. But Adon was, after all, capable.

"I will certainly keep an eye out. But, uh," he rubbed the back of his neck as he leaned back in his chair. "I haven't seen anything like that before . . ." He was quiet a moment. "I was actually thinking I would send an image to my friend, Aleron Wilhelm. He's a leading Runic Studies scholar and knows a lot about Magical symbols. He might know something."  He looked speculatively at his friend from across the desk. running his tongue along the inside of his teeth as he waited for some indicator on how such a thing might go over down on Level Two.

“I’ll let you know,” Archer finished his sentence for him.  He knew the normal course of conversation, particularly when relating to inter-department cooperation.  Archer wanted to involve Dreogan as much as possible where he could, especially in relation to things that actually applied to both of their work.  The clearance would be easier to attain on most things if it was relative and he could prove it was allowable.  More times than not it was about being practical on what to involve anyone else in, but he thought getting Dreogan with the department on certain issues could be very helpful – and he was effectively family (at least the only wizarding connection outside of Ray and Deen Akiva had that could be trusted with ministry information). 

Whatever the case, Archer did not find it hard to imagine incorporating Dreogan’s unique experience and contacts into whatever they were doing.  He was the last one to say that they had to do something a certain way – as long as it was within legal means – to figure out a solution.  He wanted to put the people away, to make sure the guilty were getting what they deserved, but he didn’t want to have to let them go based on some sort of technicality.  That was just unacceptable.  Others saw his point of view, but there were some who just didn’t get it – they needed to be reminded of the effect of lawlessness in law enforcement – it didn’t look good. 

There was the possibility here though, of using a resource that Archer hadn’t considered.  “As long as your friend could keep it as quiet as possible, I don’t see the harm,” Archer was confident in this, at least.  “There’s no need to incite panic in the population if we have no idea what it actually means,” Archer clarified, “so if your friend could shed some light on what, exactly, it means, it would make it easier for us to track it down.  It just has to be done with secrecy – if he can get it here at the ministry himself; it would be ideal.” 

Archer wanted to keep the bows and ribbons neatly tied up – the chain of evidence had to be kept and he wanted to be there, at least, when things were handed over.  If it was going to be used in any capacity for a prosecution, it needed to be legitimate.  Witnesses who could testify with their own field were necessary, so he had been told by one of the ministry appointed representatives, so that couldn’t hurt.  “I’ll check the rules of evidence and get back to you on it.  I think it should be fine though," he reassured him, truly sincere. 

"At this point, I'll try it," he laughed awkwardly, shrugging his broad shoulders.  The subject was growing wearisome - thinking of how much they did not have, though possibilities were good, it did not mean anything would come of it.  Nothing had yet, it wasn't good to set up for disappointment. 

They all knew that hoping too much was a waste, especially when the outcome could be so bleak, but at least there were positives to celebrate in this case.  It could be much worse.  "Have you heard anything on the suspected runespoors?" he changed the subject, curious about another case that was coming and going every so often - also tied to international relations, less personal (for them), and much safer to talk about. 

"He will," Dreogan reassured easily. Aleron had kept much from Almenius Laevenstrome, the headmaster, during the length of Dreogan's brief tenure as a faculty member at his school. He was Dreogan's most cherished confidant and friend. "Besides, Aleron isn't involved in the British magical community," he furthered. "So I do not think he will be in England for some time. Perhaps the end of next month for a conference. But he resides in California. Do you think it best we wait until then, or can I Ministry Mail him a copy through the Floo?"

At the mention of inciting panic, Dreogan gave a nod, but couldn't help but crack a ghost of a smile. Archer? A flair for the dramatic. While Dreogan would not extrapolate or presume it an Auror trait, it seemed the sort of thing Adon would say off-the-cuff. Suffice it to say that Adon was no diplomat.

"At this point, I'll try it," Archer confessed with a lean laugh that Dreogan had to -- from obligation -- chuckle along with.

"I'll put you in touch directly with him, if you like." Dreogan said, "You'll enjoy working with him." Dreogan hoped, at least, that Archer enjoyed his work. It did not take a diviner to sense the frustration exuding from the man at present.

The change in conversation was quick and evasive. That Archer would bring up Akiva's case only to be altogether willing to distract from it moments later drew Dreogan back to what he had last said that might have caused it. Perhaps mentioning bringing in an outside source.

Perhaps this all tied back to Raynor and himself; that had been the initial conflict, had it not?

With a light sigh, emanating not from the response to the question but rather his own thoughts, Dreogan shifted in his seat slightly. "Heard? No. I've not heard much else. Bernier was my primary contact, of course. So with her death, a good deal of communication has been lost. They have not recovered yet, Jordan's international department. I would not be surprised, though," Dreogan said with a heavy note of candidness to his voice, "if there was some internal bribery that has succeeded where it once failed with Bernier. They were trying to bribe her. Then tortured her. Then murdered her. Now all is silent. I hardly think it's because they've given up the cause. Whoever 'they' may be. Rest assured, much is still transpiring in Jordan. Adon knows something of it; he keeps in touch with his office, I believe. I'm certain he's told you all he is able to, however."

Dreogan said this last part lightly. That was, in its own way, another source of friction and anxiety. But not one caused by him or one he had any right to make comment upon.  

“Ministry mail is fine,” Archer consented.  “I don’t want to wait too long,” he allowed himself to expand.  “By the time he comes to England the investigation could basically freeze in its tracks.  I want to get as much done now as I can – information will be easier to gather with a little more.  It’s been rather… halting to not have that to access.”  In his mind, the investigation might have gone better with a dead body instead, though he would never really actively wish that on a victim… they just happened to have a little more to say about the nature of crime than a woman who was emotionally damaged and couldn’t even give them the least bit on anything that happened.

He acknowledged it wasn’t her fault – whoever did it to her, well, he or she was good, but that didn’t mean it was impossible.  It just might have been a little easier with a victim that actually remembered something or had a few more marks on her – something a little different, just slightly different would have changed the dynamic going on.  “And if you think its better I speak with him directly, I’ll do that.  Results are what I am after.” 

He wasn’t one to mince the words he knew were not going to cause a rift, and even then, he didn’t compromise his integrity to keep someone’s feelings in check – often he included himself in the group of people he would not lie to – though there were specific instances in which he was going to have to twist the facts – for one, the graying hairs that were starting to show up more prominently along his temples.  Otherwise, he was as honest as they came, which was saying something. 

He was glad for the change of subject though; he wasn’t sure how much longer he could go on about that issue without saying something stupid.  He didn’t want to offend Dree, particularly when it was his girlfriend he was going to be complaining about – not her, specifically, just the circumstances, but people got funny when they were personally involved.  Whatever the case, he sighed softly, silently grateful he was not part of that auror force – sounded like an issue he was not in the mood to deal with, and nodded in understanding.  Just because he didn’t typically witness the corruption didn’t mean it wasn’t everywhere, and he shook his head. 

Nodding softly at the end of the story, Archer let out a heavy sigh.  He knew Adon was involved in all of it; he was just curious what was going on in the international level, without law enforcement.  “He has,” Archer consented, “and it’s not that much – helpful in its own way though.  Just thought I'd ask, you know, off-chance something came up.  Your brother though - he and Aberdeen seem to have a handle on it – I swear, she’s developed a soft spot for him,” Archer teased with a lopsided grin, hoping Dree noticed the fondness with which the comment was made and the inherent amusement over the whole thing. 

“This is the busiest we’ve been in a while.  Looking for all the breaks we can get,” he chuckled.  “Otherwise, business as usual."  Glancing at the piles on his desk, separated by the spell earlier, Archer's eyebrows raised.  "Looks like you've had your fair share of excess work recently.  How's it going?  Holding up well?"  He figured he might as well inquire, the guy was dealing with a lot, after all - more than Archer would have put up with, to be honest.