Mornings had become a much more enjoyable thing in the week that he'd been working in the Auror Office.  It wasn't that Jonas had ever hated mornings; as long as they weren't introduced to each other with the accompaniment of a splitting headache, he usually did alright with them.

Rather, it was that finally he had something to look forward to.  The Runespoor investigation with Adon was grueling and emotionally exhausting on both a professional and a personal level.  The mood throughout Level Two was grim and tense.  Tamis, he suspected, had been going out of her way not to say a word to him since he'd started, and his new co-workers ranged from the irritatingly smug (Adon) to the sharp-wittingly arrogant (Adon) to the ones that he hadn't really taken the time to get to know or reintroduce himself to yet.  (And also Radley, who just kept making jokes about his hair color.)

Jonas loved it.  It was one thing to have to slog uphill; it was quite another to finally feel as if he were back in motion after running in place all this time.  He could handle exhaustion; he could handle adversity.  He could even handle Edward Pratt, whom he was feeling much more cheerful towards now that he had decided that an upbeat attitude was probably the most effective front he could present.

Most of the other Aurors were already in the office by the time he arrived.  Whistling, Jonas made a beeline for the younger man's desk, the folder with a copy of all of his notes relevant to the investigation that they'd both been assigned to tucked under his arm.

"Good morning!" he announced cheerfully, dropping the folder down with vivid force in front of the other Auror.  To be fair, the file had been granted extra heft beyond what was necessary; Jonas had included duplicate copies of all the pages 'just in case,' as well as a myriad of birds-eye-view maps of London, with possible blocks of flats outlined in a collection of various colors.  Needless to say, there were a lot. 

"You sleep well?  Have a good breakfast?  How's your coffee tasting?"  He flashed the younger man a bright smile, grabbing a nearby chair and swinging it around to join Pratt at his desk.  "Need any sugar for it?  I might have a woolong or two I could spot you if you're running low, mate."

It had been another one of those nights. Another evening for terrible headaches caused from an insane amount of nagging and anger. Apparently he’d come home late from being with his ‘other woman’ (she meant his partner) and gotten the kids excited before bed, paying her little attention. Therefore she’d practically torn his ear off with womanly gripes and nags.

And the woman wondered why Ed avoided her upon his return!? It was happening again. Quincy was on maternity leave. She was heavily pregnant and she was in the house all day, looking after three troublesome children waiting for her hard working husband to come home. Because of her obvious frustration that Ed was punished for, he was lavishing in his paperwork, stopping behind to fill out even the most pointless of forms. Malone had noticed this. She’d mentioned it. Ed had told her not to get used to it. He was just going through an overly efficient faze. It would end soon enough.

Due to the antics of last night and sleeping on the sofa in the tiny study in the cottage, Ed was definitely not in the best of moods. He’d arrived in work early, once more avoiding the missus and was sat at his desk with the morning’s second offering of coffee in one hand and the research he’d found in the records about this Katsaros fellow. The silence in the cubicle was most welcome. This is why Ed was even more irritated when his tiny work space got invaded by the ginger gremlin who appeared with a leprechaun’s grin and a sickeningly cheery greeting.

Before Ed could say anything in response, a horrifyingly large heavy file was dropped onto his desk with all the grace of a two legged cat on heat. It was going to be a fun, fun day. Ed cursed his life right now and he cursed the witch who he was going to blame it all on.

Pratt hadn’t returned the cheerful smile, he’d given the man an unexpressive glance, not an invitation and yet the ginger unicorn still acquired himself a chair and sat down in the cubicle, a little too close to Ed for comfort and proceeded to bombard the man with pointless questions. Ed blinked, needing a moment to adjust to the new situation he found himself in.

“No. Yes. Exquisite.” The auror plainly replied to the three questions he was first posed before his eyebrows rose. What the hell was a woolong?! Well Ed wasn’t going to give Trevelyan the satisfaction of asking. Instead he took a long sip of his coffee and placed the cup down.

“I’m sweet enough, Pumpkin.” Ed finally responded as he pulled the oversized file towards him. Deciding to play it nice, just for a moment, the auror glanced sideward at his new (most definitely temporary) partner and plastered a fake grin across his lips. “And how is yer bad leg? I do hope it ‘ent giving ye too much pain. That would be terrible.” The auror said, his voice dripping with sickeningly sweet kindness beautifully finished off with a sarcasm topping.

“When I said everythin’ I didn’t mean notes from as far back as the first time ye managed to take a leak without yer mam’s help.”

"Yeah?" Jonas asked cheerfully, turning his attention to the walls of the man's cubicle.  A Chudley Cannons flag, the bright orange contrasting vividly with the dull colors of the wall behind it.  "Me bad, then.  Reckon we should be more specific with each other in the future, don't you think?"

One could tell a lot from how an individual kept their workspace.  Pratt's desk was covered in papers: messy, indiscriminate piles that made his desk resemble the natural state of Jonas's own office, when he hadn't gotten to the sorting and filing.  Likely an Auror who preferred to be out in the field, then.  Act first; catch up on paperwork later.  Pratt had started training just before Jonas had left, so he had ten years of experience by now.  Had to be at least competent at what he did if he'd lasted this long.

And clearly not one to sugar coat his feelings: Pratt returned quip for quip, transforming his retort into an insult besides.  He could handle himself; Jonas had no doubt that the air of bravado had let him run roughshod over plenty of less confident coworkers in the past.  For not the first time, he found himself wondering if Tamis had tried to do him a favor by sticking him with one of the hard noses in the office right off, just to see what would happen. 

Which wasn't necessarily a bad thing.  The investigative aspects of this job were the easy part; he'd spent so long fumbling around without the ease of authority that having it again would be like a weight off the shoulders.  Navigating the interpersonal dynamics, coming in fresh to an office that was built around a certain distrust of outsiders and internal camaraderie, would be much more challenging.  Might as well deal with a challenge up front.

"Leg's alright, thanks," he replied amiably, scanning over the mass of papers for anything else that was interesting.  A small, one-armed figurine clothed in green Quidditch robes caught his eye; he snatched it up, turning it over to examine it.  It didn't move much; looked like whatever charm had been on it was wearing off.  "I'm used to a bit more walking than you blokes normally go about, so it's not been bad.  Not sure that I really like spending so much time behind a desk, but there's not much to help that one, is there?  Either you get used to it or you don't."

A sudden surge of recognition flashed through him.  "Hey, this one's supposed to be Radley!" He looked up from the weakly struggling miniature in his hand, flashing Pratt an enormous appreciative smile.  "Tam never said that one of the perks of the job was getting an action figure!"

When the figurine of Radley was snatched up from the desk, Ed’s first reaction had been to snatch it off him and put it in his pocket. His natural instinct at this moment resembled an only child having to share his toys with the weird ginger kid in the corner who no one wanted to play with because he had nits and smelt like rotten pumpkins and sprouts. How dare the ginger kid take his toy off him! He needed to be hexed and have his hair pulled!

Fortunately, this immature part of Ed stayed well inside and instead he picked up his coffee and made himself take another sip of it. Best to not talk until he had something to say other than “give me my toy back”. That really didn’t look professional did it? But hey, Ed did live with three children aged 10 and under. They’d definitely rubbed off on him.

After placing his mug back onto the desk (no doubt creating a brown ring on the back of the report he’d placed it on), Ed suddenly transformed his expression into one of over the top fake happiness and suddenly looked very excited. “Yeah, it’s the only reason we all join the force!” He replied eagerly. “Ye get one when Tam” he decided to use the same, informal naming method “converts ye to herbal shite. Well cool ‘ent it?”

Quick as a flash, Ed’s expression straightened and he once more resisted the urge to snatch the figure back. “Tell Frizz over there” the auror inclined his head in the direction of Malone’s cubicle “her hair looks like a bramble, she loves it, and she’ll do all yer paperwork for ye. Then more field work. It’s grand.”

Jonas turned the figure over, examining it with considerable care.  "'Well cool' must be the technical term for it, then?" he asked in a good-natured tone.  "Sorry that I have to ask; the accent's a bit thick sometimes.  Nice to know you're so positive about the job perks, though!  And here I was thinking we were all Aurors for all of the good that we wanted to do in the world."

He set the figurine back down on the other man's desk, watching it wobble and fall over as it tried to weakly regain its balance.  For a moment, the red-haired man considered shifting the papers around to dig for any other interesting knickknacks, but that seemed to be pushing the limits of hospitality, even to him.  He wanted to drive the point home that Pratt couldn't be a needless arse, not infuriate the other man into murdering him.

"Sounds like you've got this work thing all figured out then, don't you?" he asked amicably, following Pratt's gaze in the direction of the other Auror's desk.  'Frizz' Malone was one that he didn't know; she'd apparently joined the force while after he'd left it, and all he'd been able to gather so far was that she didn't get along with Adon.  "To be honest, though, I was actually looking for a way to get out of work entirely, not just to get more fieldwork.  Perhaps you could give me a few tips on that when we take lunch?"

Clearing his throat, Jonas reached for one of the quills sitting in a jar on Eddie's desk, evidently intent on getting down to business.  "This is the self-inking kind, innit?" he asked cheerfully, turning it so that he could examine the tip.  "Too bad you blokes don't like to use pens; even these are a pain in the arse when you have to write with 'em.  You got some parchment I could borrow to take notes, mate?  I left all of mine at Eleor's desk, and I'd hate to disturb him so early in the day."

Ed’s accent was too thick? More like the ginger turd was too thick to understand his accent. First the gremlin stole his injured quidditch figurine and now he was insulting his obviously smarter co-worker’s intelligence? Trevelyan really knew how to make friends didn’t he?

The man wasn’t going to get to him. Ed was going to rise above it. He lifted his coffee cup to his lips and focused on the liquid flowing down his throat rather than the present fantasy of his hands closing around the moron’s scrawny neck. That would feel extremely satisfying right now.

If Pratt was to be perfectly honest, he had no idea if this moron was being serious and was just here again for a pretty badge and a scary job title or if he was just taking the goblin piss. Either way, Ed was disliking him more and more.
“Best way to get out of work is to quit.” he responded plainly, placing the coffee mug on the desk and folded his arms, stretching his legs out. “Again. Ye’re good at that so it shan’t be too hard, eh?”

“Have I got some what?” Ed faked a frown, as if trying to concentrate on what the leprechaun was trying to say. “Ye’re gonna’ have to speak more clearly, Trevelyan. Ye sound like a west country troll wi’alf a tongue.”  That was immature of Pratt, yes. But Trevelyan had started it! He’d barged into the cubicle, tried to attack his new (and definitely temporary) partner with an oversized folder and then helped himself to Ed’s personal property. The gremlin was lucky he hadn’t been cursed out of the cubicle and set alight (oh how that red hair would catch flame). Especially the mood Ed was in at the moment.

"Ooh arr," Jonas said obediently, his cheerful expression not faltering for a second as he glanced up from the examination of the quill.  "Parchment.  P-A-R-C-H-M-E-N-T."  Enunciating each letter helpfully and clearly, he leaned back in his chair, flashing Eddie an enormous smile.  "You want me to slow down a bit there, mate?  I can understand if you're not keeping up."

Pratt the prat was clearly not enjoying himself nearly as much as he'd been the day before, when he'd dumped files on Jonas's lap and left him with vague orders to turn over everything he knew.  Grinning to himself, Jonas began to rifle through the piles of papers on the other man's desk, searching for a mostly blank piece of parchment.

"And I'd hardly say that doing something once makes me good at it," he added cheerfully, attempting to fan through a stack of papers like he was shuffling a deck of cards.  It was a noble attempt, but it failed spectacularly.  "I'll have to try me hand at it at least three or four more times before I can really know for sure if I've got a talent.  Reckon I should give it at least a week though, or Tam would never hire me on again."

"Which means we're stuck together on this case for a bit, at the least," he concluded brightly, shooting another quick smile at the other Auror.  "So, how did you want to go about starting the investigation, then, mate?  You likely have more experience than I do at this sort of thing, and judging by the way you just walked off on me yesterday, you're clearly not too interested in what I know about it, yeah?"

Despite definitely not wanting to, Ed laughed at the man sat in front of him. It didn’t matter if it was because the moron in front of him thought he was being funny or if he was genuinely amusing, Pratt still laughed. “Yep, that word. Still ‘ent gettin’ it. Just hear this incoherent garglin’.” He shook his head and glanced back down at the file. Ed didn’t like this bloke. He couldn’t start showing amusement. That would just give the ginger gremlin mixed signals. The gremlin would start being even more sickeningly happy until Ed cursed one of his limbs off and gave him reason to finally dispel the annoying grin.

Once more Ed seemed to stop listening to what his ginger colleague was rambling incoherently about. Instead his focus fell on the man’s disrespect regarding Ed’s personal property. His grubby ginger hands were all over Ed’s paperwork. The auror could deal with the blinding glare from when the ginger hair caught the light (just). He could deal with the stealing of his toys (just). But he couldn’t deal with the gremlin wannabe helping himself to important and private paperwork.

The wand was pulled out from Ed’s robe pocket and he gave it a flick, sending the unorganised mess of parchments to the corner of the auror’s desk in a neat pile, out of reach of the grabby ginger child.

“Well do ye have anything interestin’ to say about the case, Pumpkin?” Pratt asked pointedly, spinning in the chair to face his colleague once more. “Ye seem a bit too full o’yerself to hold any other information in yer head to be honest. Gilderoy Lockhart with ginger hair and a badge. Atrocious mix.”

The papers were whisked well out of his reach, magically assembling themselves into a much-more organized pile.  Jonas leaned back in his chair, not trying very hard to hide a self-satisfied grin as he began to twirl Pratt's quill between his fingers.

"Yeah?" he asked, forehead creasing as he did his best to look as if he were giving the comparison serious consideration.  "That was the bloke who used to write those books on yetis, wasn't he?  Sounds tragic for you to have to deal with, mate," he told Pratt, a poor attempt at sympathy warring with pure amusement in his expression.  "Got to be the worst part of your work week right here, innit?  Throw the accent in on top of it and it's a wonder I'm still breathing."

Resisting the urge to whistle cheerfully, Jonas lifted the other man's quill again, putting some effort into studying the nub and shaft.  Pratt had clearly already decided not to take him seriously from the moment that Raynor had dumped the assignment on both of them yesterday.  Pointing out that he'd already given several suggestions of leads, which the other Auror had completely ignored, didn't seem likely to improve their working relationship.  Far better to give him the tools necessary to end this chess game, and let them both get back to dealing with other important matters.

"You know," he remarked with utter nonchalance, apparently consumed with his examination of the quill, "since I'm obviously not going to have any helpful insights on the matter, you could always tell Raynor that you got me notes and you can handle the rest on your own, Pratt.  I even promise to buckle with the sting of rejection and spend the whole rest of the day reexamining me worth to the world," he assured the other man nicely, glancing up long enough to flash him a quick smile.  "So it kills two birds with one stone for you, yeah?"

Ed crossed his arms as he stared plainly at the carrot topped moron in front of him. “Well, to be honest I am surprised ye got to 40 wi’yer attitude and blindin’ hair. I heard ginger people are more likely to get murdered. Apparently their hair just makes people angry. The murderers see ‘red’ if ye know what I mean.” There you go; the best way for Ed to stay calm around this goblin was to insult him. He could handle that. Ed smirked and leaned back in his chair, he just had to show he wasn’t bothered.

Oh gosh, little did Jonas know how much he was rubbing salt into the wounds. Raynor would not relent one tiny bit when it came to this ridiculous coupling choice. She’d probably start a betting pool on who attacked the other first. Ed had no doubts the majority of bets would be placed on him. But Malone was still alive and she’d been more than enough to deal with when he’d been saddled with her and her obsessive adoration of pretty handwriting and neat paperwork. Unfortunately, she’d rubbed off on him.

“Aren’t ye hilarious?” The auror asked as he began to lean forwards, resting his elbows on his knees and getting closer to the ginger haired weasel. Could you catch gingervitis by being this close? Being over exposed to such a bright hair colour surely had to have some damaging effects on one’s health. “I wouldn’t mind killing summit’ else with a stone, Paddy.” The man began to smile as he entwined his fingers and the bright green eyes studied Trevelyan’s.

“If ye’ve got a problem with this partnership, you can go speak to Raynor. Otherwise, buggar off and play with yer other leprechaun friends while I read the files.”

"I'm 52, actually," Jonas corrected, looking horrendously amused at both the misrepresentation of his age as well as the hypothesis that all the world was out to kill him.  "You really think so?"  He tilted his head to the side, adopting a pensive look as he rubbed his chin.  "Well, that'd explain that bloke who tried to run me over with the lorry last week.  And the two knives in me headboard this morning.  And that time last week when I got stuck in the lift and someone cut the wire.  And the -"

He was very likely getting carried away.  Jonas didn't exactly intend for Pratt to murder him; this was, after all, a very intentional strike.  The other Auror had treated him as anything but an equal in their interactions the day before, and Jonas had no intention of taking that meekly.  He could give as good as he got when it came to being delightfully irritating, and judging by the look of Pratt's face, he definitely had one up on the other man when it came to holding his temper.

And there went his new best mate, trying to assert control over the situation again.  Jonas would be damned if he sat around and waited for Pratt to finish 'reading' the files, only to storm over to Jonas's desk (well, Adon's desk) when he finally felt like addressing the investigation.  Whether Pratt liked him or not, he was going to learn quickly that Jonas wasn't available to jump every time he beckoned or called.  Better to put a stop to that expectation up front.

"Oh, I've got no problem with the partnership," he replied cheerfully.  "Rather looking forward to it, actually.  I reckon there's plenty I can learn from a bloke like you.  I'm a bit on the busy side, though, getting up to speed on all of this," he added apologetically as he rose to his feet.  "How about you let me know on Monday when you'll have time to meet, and then we can schedule it in for next week?  If you can give me at least a day's notice, I reckon I can rearrange things and accommodate you."

Ed didn’t contemplate asking Paddy what in Merlin’s bright red underpants a lorry was. It didn’t matter. The majority of what the leprechaun had to say could no doubt be deemed as unimportant. One only had to take a look at the colour of his hair. Since when had someone important and clever ever had ginger hair? Bailey was the perfect example. Him and Jonas were annoying gremlin twins with very warm, prone to igniting heads.

There was no doubt the ‘a bloke like you’ comment was meant as anything but a compliment. Pratt’s teeth grit and he picked up his quill, beginning to twist it around in his fingers to prevent him twisting his wand or Trevelyan’s neck. Oh how smashing the latter would be!

The man suggested Pratt ask him when was suitable to meet over the next week. The auror shook his head and turned in his seat once more to face the desk. “This is the Auror Office, Paddy, not a brothel. Ye don’t book appointments to deal with a case unless you want it to go on until next Christmas. I’ll come and find ye when I’ve read this over.”

And with that the man opened the case file and began to read, fully deciding to ignore his new partner if he persisted with his ‘busy’ excuse. They were all busy. That was the definition of auror.