Sigh. What a dull day - at least indoors. Out of doors it was bright and sunny, people were laughing and talking, children were playing, and all was right with the world. But behind the counter of Scribbulus Ever Changing Ink, the world was different. Mostly because, at least today, Teagan felt completely shut out of it.

 It was the slowest day in the history of slow days. The minutes were ticking by like hours, and it had pretty much been agonizing. All she wanted to do was go home, change out of her work clothes into some comfy clothes, and take the dogs for a run and enjoy some of that sunshine before it was too late. Unfortunately, she had another hour and a half on the clock before she could do anything but sip her hot chocolate and count the stripes on the wallpaper. Somehow, despite the fact that there were a lot of stripes, this didn't become entertaining.

 And then, like a miracle, it happened. The angels sang - or, more realistically, the bell above the door rang, signaling the entrance of a customer. Finally! She almost knocked her panda mug to the floor in her rush to get out from behind the counter - which would have been a shame. She loved that mug. Plastering on her brightest, friendliest, most customer-friendly smile, she smoothed down her skirt and approached the person who had just entered the shop.

 "Hello, welcome to Scribbulus Everchanging Inks, where we strive to meet all your stationery and office supply needs! Our quills are buy one get one free this week, and our parchment is half off, my name is Teagan, how can I assist you?" The mandatory greeting finally over with, she paused to breathe and smiled hopefully. Maybe this person would stay awhile, and she'd get to enjoy some contact with the outside world.

The afternoon caller at Scribbulus was a heavily hooded Theodora Kingstreet, one of the Ministry of Magic's most wanted witches. She wore well-tailored black robes in a very traditional cut. All of her straw blonde hair was pulled back into a french roll beneath her hood.  She had replaced her severe, dark-rimmed glasses with severe round-lensed sunglasses.   Her sharp nose was the only part of her face that poked out very far from beneath her hood.

It wrinkled in disdain as a chipper store clerk accosted her with smiles, welcomes and a canned message.  She was dressed like a muggle.  Merlin, the hired help these days.  Instead of stopping to engage the clerk, Theodora Kingstreet strode past the brightly colored racks of plumes, around the bins of mini ink bottles, and paid no attention at all to the shelves full of the most ecclective parchment options in the whole city - and went straight to the counter.

"I would like to place an order," she said flatly.  "And do hurry.  There is a notice out for my immediate arrest and it would delay this afternoon's activities should I need to engage in a fire fight with Aurors.  Not to mention that one or two innocent bystanders would lose their life if that occured.  You don't wish to lose your life, do you, Miss Bystander? Then come along.  Take my order. Quickly."

Theodora turned over her shoulder and looked at the clerk to see if she indeed would hurry, of if there was to be violence.  Living incognito was terribly trying.  And so Theodora had found that when dealing with certain types of people it was better to be up front about things.  It usually smoothed the way to a very routine course of events.

Ahmed had just come from an encounter with Candice Peterson, when her briefcase fell apart, spilling papers all over the street. Apparently British public servants were paid no better than their Indian counterparts, if she was forced to carry that relic around...

Anyway...as his own Ministry had been at him for three years to undergo grief counseling; and after the incident at Heathrow the Brits were also suggesting he might need it for Post Traumatic stress, he had bowed to the inevitable and made an appointment. The lady seemed non-threatening enough.

He came to the front window of Scribbulus, still looking for thank-you gifts for Moira Randall and Tulo Najde. Those fluffy, colorful plumed quills seemed like the sort of thing Moira might like. Add a bit of color to the wards...

Entering the shop...causing the bell to jingle as he did so...he made his way over to the quills, without noticing the rather impatient lady at the counter.

Taking his time he examined the quills, wondering what color Moira might prefer. Pink? Sky blue? Lavender? Settling on the blue, he wandered up to make his purchase.

For the first time he noticed the sharp-nosed woman in the hooded robe, still standing at the counter. He knew Theodora Kingstreet only by name and mugshot; and could not see her face plainly enough to recognize her. Due to her style of dress he assumed she was elderly. And since he came in after her comments to the clerk, he hadn’t heard what she just said, but he did sense that she seemed irritable. And the clerk looked distinctly alarmed. Probably the old bat was giving her a hard time...

“Good day ladies,” he said pleasantly. “Please...just go on with whatever you were doing. I’m in no hurry...”