M for Language

April 6, 2009
Monday
9:24 am

The Monday morning Auror floor was humming - it never seemed to fully fall asleep, even over the weekend.  Shifts in, shifts out, and the coffee flowed.  Zora was on the tail end of an over-nighter, but as a-swagger as ever.  She'd finally heard back from a contact who'd been scrying the anti-muggle posters that kept cropping up in Knockturn and Diagon.  The hope was they'd be able to come up with some link to who might have made them, maybe through the ink or the handwriting or any potions residues or trace auras on it.  The tests could take weeks to fully cure, and they had to wait for Mars to do its thing, but they were getting close.  That, and that Jack Spade kid had turned! So despite getting a proper O.A.F. for kneeing him in the balls, he seemed to have retained some of his bravery and was going to do the right thing.  It was hush-hush, but it was the first real hope they had of finding Kingstreet - she'd gone completely black-out.  Not even a postcard.

So even though she'd been up responding to red sparks all night, she was back at the brightly lit H.Q. with a spring in her step.  She strolled through the labyrinth of shoulder-high cubicles until she came upon Auror "Uzi" Eleor.  Mister Hero Pants himself.

"Look at you," she cooed.  "Big damn hero!"  She had a stack of letters in her hands, the morning mail.  She'd took them off Hills, who popped a nut at the breach in protocol.  But Zora insisted on playing owl this morning.  She put one envelope behind the others until one with Eleor's name appeared at the front of the stack.

She flicked it onto his desk.  "I'm bloody jealous - what a take-down," she said with unusual sincerity.  Zora, as much as she busted Adon's chops, was a proud Auror and what Adon had done - it had been admirable work.  Even her jealosy at missing such an amazing encounter was overshadowed by her full appreciation of what went into that sort of feat.  "Read Hyskos's dossier - lunatic."

She found another bit of mail for him and flicked it over.  A bit envelope that seemed... crunchy somehow.

"On the mend then?"

Adon wasn't a morning person. And he wasn't a Monday morning persno, either. Adon thought he might have been a bit ambitious in thinking he could return so soon. Whether it was from lack of coffee or residual Runespoor, potions, and recovery, Adon didn't know. Or particularly have the sense to figure out. The pounding head, stomach ache, and tense neck were enough to distract him from any real thought at the moment. He needed pillows. A blanket. Coffee. And a good book.

What he did not need was this. Ms. In-The-Balls Roh. Shitshitshit. He did not need this. Or understand this. The praise. The smile. Adon looked at the first envelope she'd tossed on the desk, making no move to take it. It could be full of that white powder that people were in Israel and America had been all uptight about, his last couple of years in the military. All because she was smug; yeh, he'd filed that he and Jacoba had--well, that the nickname Roh'd created was apt. He didn't really want this gloating public.
"Big Hero!"

That's what she said, somehow, felt detrimental to his cause. Instead, Adon opted for irritation. A good standby in any situation. "Look. I've filed that I--"

"I'm bloody jealous--what a takedown!"

Adon suspected, at this point, that Roh was not talking about bedding Jacoba. Otherwise, he would need to decide between being even more disturbed, or, well, furious. "Read Hyskos's dossier -- lunatic." After a few moments, he managed a stammered, astonished, "Yeh. Ah. . . Thanks." Followed by a slightly nervous, single laugh.

"On the mend, then?" This question was particularly precarious. If he said yes, then she'd launch into whatever tirade about Jacoba and his Muggleloving she wanted. Down to business. And if not--well, Adon suspected at least five or six aurors, at least, were listening in to this. He couldn't not be recovering.

". . . Yeeeeah," he said, slowly, softly. Drawn-out. Adon turned slightly in his swivel chair pressing his back more firmly against the back rest. This provided him a good hand's width more of distance between the apparently passive-aggressive witch and himself.

He wondered something he'd never had to with Roh: He wondered when the aggressive would show itself. "What's. . ." he began, before realising he didn't know an appropriate phrase in British for this. So he opted for the Israeli: straightforward and blunt. A second, large envelope flew across the desk, landing with a peculiarly light-heavy sound. There was something in there other than paper. But damned if he was going to open it in front of Roh. "Why are you delivering my mail, Roh?"

Since Adon hadn't offered, Zora had to grant herself the invitation to take a seat next to Adon's desk, in the chair normally reserved for interviewing witnesses and victims.  She finished flicking through the mail and tapped the stack against her leg.

She was really enjoying this.  Adon looked like hell - as well he should for the battle he'd walked away from - but he was totally confused.  She smiled even more broadly, still tapping the mail against her thigh. 

She'd watched him stammer and posture for a few moments, the Israeli transplant's training apparently no match for Zora's peculiar brand of sheep's clothing.

"You're back!" she answered with a bubbly chirrup.  "I needed some excuse to come round your cubicle - see if you'd actually survived.  Was a close call."  She said, her tone dropping to a flat sincerity, that wasn't at the moment, undermined by any smirk.

"It's a big win."

It was this moment that Hills caught up with Zora and she allowed him to take the mail away from her.  Her hands free, she crossed her arms over her chest and gazed firmly at Adon.  She was older than he was, and she'd seen action.  She'd seen the Azkaban break-out, even.  But what he and Jonas had done in the streets of Muggle London had been a brilliant show of individual mustard.  Zora admired a proper warrior when she met one.  Even if he was a silly boy off stage.

"You will owe us a play-by-play over drinks." 

Adon didn't want to admit how close it had actually been. 10 minutes, maybe--perhaps less--before his heart had failed.

"You're back!"

"Miss me? Don't blame you. I don't suppose you could have found anyone else to sexually harass over sandwiches." But maybe others had seen what she looked like, eating sandwiches--appetite for food and flesh hand-in-hand. After the past cafeteria encounter, Adon'd given her a wide berth.

"It's a big win," she gushed. And the enthusiasm, at least towards the event, if not at his hero-status, seemed genuine enough.

"It is progress," he corrected. He'd learned not to put too much weight in any one event. The almost bi-polar fluctuations between jubilation and rage as tides ebbed and shifted in the Middle East had cured him of at least that much. Adon was cautious. From Jonas, from Archer, or even Pratt, Adon'd have accepted the congratulations. But he neither trusted Roh nor the Runespoor traders to deal straight.  He didn't want to hear it from her. Roh was gushing like a greenie; odd, considering her experience.

"It wasn't that complex of an operation, Roh," Adon said, somewhat sorely, suspecting he was being made some sort of game. Two Aurors. One assassin. One victim. "Things got a bit muddled when Prideaux came onto the scene, but--" he'd been unconscious by that time, anyhow. "Thanks, Roh. It's good to be back. I'll let you know when we're going out for drinks with the gang."

This was not to say she needed to be included in the gang. While Adon acknowledged it would be courteous to ask her how she'd been--what her cases were looking like--in fair exchange, Adon knew that he was involved, uncomfortably on one of them. Another, however, much more recent, could provide a bridge: "Though, considering last night, I think we'll all lay low for just a tad, as far as drinking's concerned, yeh? Steer clear of the Muggle pubs. Though I'm sure that's not a problem for you." Purist.

Roh had expected Adon to be an arsehole.  He was just the dour sort of bloke to hold a stupid grudge, on top of being a sullen hardass day in and out.  He shot down her compliments as if he was better than what he'd managed to pull off, as if he was so damn good as to consider it all in a day's work.  But she hadn't imagined he'd take this rather innocuous, overly friendly opportunity to be a completely conceited little fancyman.

Zora started a scowl but sighed it away with a small shake of her head.  What the hell was his problem anyway?  But his tone about festivities was too much.

"Back up!" she chided, regretfully in the voice she used to call her daughter to task.  "You get hit in the head or something, or did someone shit in your coffee?  I'm playing fair, here, Eleor.  You're not still up a tree about your girlfriend are you?  Oh balls... you are!"  She stood up, looking disgusted.

"I thought you'd have gotten all of that out of your system after she complained to Raynor.  Did you think I'd buy that she came up with that herself?  You got a big head, Eleor.   I'm doing my bloody job by her, just like you did yours back with Mulogo.  Get off your broom and get over yourself!"

"Yeh, well, I know your rules are obviously a little different. But to my knowledge, I didn't take liberties and hex him, now, did I?" Adon said, raising his voice to match Roh's. "Mulogo agreed to that--from the sound of it, Jacoba didn't exactly agree to be strung up in the air to give you some leverage in a powerplay! Fair. Please."

He shook his head firmly. "No--it wasn't her idea. I wanted Raynor to know," His words were clipped, but quieter, now. "I don't know what Raynor's decided to do about it--I'm not in on that conversation and I don't want to be--I wrote myself out of it the moment the information was turned over to Raynor. I trust that she's doing the right thing about it, and that's that. I wanted Raynore to deal with it. Because frankly, I don't think I can!" He gave an exhasperated gesture with his arms and turned away from her, settling back down in his chair. There was no reasoning with Zora Roh.

"What I don't appreciate, though, is your little nicknames for me. The chortling behind my back--and in front--and the threats to my girlfriend. It's highly unprofessional; it's personal. And disrespectful. Calling me Mugglefucker--physically intimidating your powerless victim, who knows her situation, by the way--are those part of your professional duty, too?" His lips curled.

"Now, I acknowledge your well-wishes and professional congradulations, but do you really think, after that--and no apology--I'm just going to invite you out to drinks and swap war stories with you? This," he said, gesturing to the mail on his desk, "doesn't make that better."

They either acknowledged the bad feelings and put an end to it, or they carried on as they were. Adon was not interested in a cover-up. He would not feign tolerance for this woman and how she'd treated Jacoba and himself under the guise of "professional duty."

He was still sore about it!  For the love of...! What a humorless, whining child!  She hadn't hexed Schlagenweit.  She rolled her eyes, completely vexed.  She couldn't believe that he was so put off by being called 'mugglefucker'.  This was the Auror floor, not a damn daycare center! Proper language wasn't high up on a list of priorities.  Did he really care all that much what she thought of him?

"Look, mate, you've got to know two things.  First, Schlagenweit's been safe on my watch.  Safe.  We're making progress.  You don't like how I go about my job? Fine. Because second: Raynor's got no problem with it.  No action taken.  No dress down, no O.A.F., no suspension.  Job bloody well done!"

She stood in his cubicle entrance, hissing at him in a low voice.  She honestly could understand why he was being such a tosser!  Sensitive, sad little man! How do you deal with someone like that?  She wasn't going to apologize, that was for damn sure.  If he wanted to un-invite her to his birthday party, that was his prerogative.  No one else in the Corps would go along with it - some things were more important than being cross about name-calling.

She bit her lip and shook her head.  She sighed and for a half a second swallowed her pride.

"Thought your skin was thicker than that, but fine - 'mugglefucker' was out of line.  I'll leave off.  But you've got to get your head on straight.  I can't tiptoe around you."

She put her hands on her hips.  She didn't know what he wanted.  Probably like her young daughter, he just wanted to be pissed off.  She doubted any apology would be taken seriously, anyway.  So why bother? She wasn't sorry, she was just sorry he was being so sensitive.  He was shacking up wit a muggle - it was hilarious!

"Growing balls and thicker skins are lines that societies use to ideologically bully each other and still feel good about it. I don't go so far as to say that's what you're doing, but that excuse?" He reached over to the first envelope, from Israel--Adnan's writing--and flicked the seal open with the edge of his thumbnail. "Yeh, I don't buy it. People have a right to expect--especially in the workplace--respect from equals. That's not tiptoeing. That's decency. My personal involvement in a case--and the details disclosed relating to that--in the context of that investigation--are not Level Two conversation pieces for yours or others' amusement. For that reason, I'm not really wanting to gush about what happened on March 15 in a pub, either. It's a case. It's ongoing."

He flipped the parchment over in his hands, counting the pages. Four, five, six--what the hell was Adnan sending him?

"And on another level of decency, it's just decent consideration. I don't go around making indiscreet comments on your sexual relations to others." Though rumour had it that they were as unconventional as his own. He tossed the parchment onto the desk. He wouldn't be able to read it with Zora lecturing him in that sollipsistic tone she seemed particularly fond of. Gossip--petty, self-indulgent gossip--Adon couldn't stand it. It made him sick. "I respect you--and your privacy, Roh."

His expression was stern, rigid. The sort he'd grown accustomed to donning when playing the role of military commander, giving a dressing-down. As a now-subordinate, it wasn't a role he adopted very often. It always felt like playing Grown-up, though with more time, it had become increasingly normal. "You personally disagree with the way I live my life, you go and complain about it when you're off the clock--not in the capacity of Auror. You have any issues with me in the context of my profession or my standing with the law, I want to hear about them.  I don't want you to tiptoe around, behind, or past me--I don't stand for gossip, anyhow. You tell me straight; you come to me with direct violations, direct issues, and we deal with it."

He shifted in his chair, turning to face the desk and reach for the crunchy package, "Your apology is appreciated. So long as I don't hear anything else on my personal life from you or others you've gone to, I don't have an issue. Like I said, I left the case with Raynor. And I trust her judgment on it--whatever she decides." Though Roh seemed to think he'd be indignant that she got off or something. Adon was skeptical enough of sources to know that he didn't have the full picture. Which was why he'd emphasized Jacoba present her side to Raynor in the first place. Raynor could also get the story from Roh. And she could play King Solomon[1] and split things up from there as she saw fit.

1.	Reference tothis proverb

Oh for Merlin's sake!  Zora looked at Adon with such bored disdain, slowly shaking her head.  She had no idea he was such a wet blanket.  Protocol? Privacy? Workplace etiquette? Was this or was this not the Auror who'd shown up with an automatic weapon his first day? She couldn't sort him out.  He didn't even want to celebrate his near death heroics, with our without her.  Why the hell was he even here?

Zora squinted at him when he mentioned her sexual relations.  She wasn't closeted so much as she just didn't play those games.  She was as married as she could be in this day and age, and settled firmly in a family with another witch.  They'd even had a daughter.  But this wasn't common knowledge.  Not a secret, but not common knowledge.  Most just knew she was married by her ring. 

His claim that he respected her fell somewhat flat.  It had a great distance to fall from that moral high horse of his.  Not a change it survived the plummet.

"You're absolutely no fun," she said, toneless.  She was tired of fighting.  Turns out, he was just as snobby and principled as his girlfriend, and there'd be no getting through to him. 

"Not that you'd see the value in that."  Unexpectedly, she sat back down, and looked at him.

"Do us all a favor and loosen up one of these days.  You'll like it, I think.  We're both having a smashing time hating each other's guts, and be my guest, go right on doing that.   And I'll leave you and Jacoba alone," the first time in the conversation she'd called her that, "But.  I'm going to handle her on the job the same way I'd handle her if she wasn't your date."

It wasn't a threat.  It was a...compromise.  He wanted her to keep all the personal stuff out of it?  She could do that.  But that didn't make Jacoba Schlagenweit any less impossible. 

"You're absolutely no fun."

"I'm sorry," Adon apologised, trying to keep from laughing at this new, biting remark. "I'll come up with a stirring song and dance number for next time, Roh."

"Not that you'd see the value in that."

Adon gave a non-commital shrug. Still grinning. He was here to do his job; not to entertain. And when he did entertain, it was his friends. The fact that Roh had attacked his personal life, come up with insulting nicknames, and had been openly hostile to his girlfriend--it was not his fault she considered these things fun. He wouldn't play along simply because she thought he should bend over backwards to impress her.

"Do us all a favor and loosen up one of these days.  You'll like it, I think.  We're both having a smashing time hating each other's guts, and be my guest, go right on doing that.   And I'll leave you and Jacoba alone. But.  I'm going to handle her on the job the same way I'd handle her if she wasn't your date."

"Hey, thanks," Adon said with a sarcastic smile. "That's exactly what I'd wanted, you know." He wondered, as an afterthought, if this meant that she was now less likely to do it.

Roh was still sitting, and Adon was anxious to open the second package. He did not, however, want to do it in front of Roh, who considered it "fun" to rip apart one's personal life. And due to the child-like scrawl he read on the envelope, he didn't exactly think it was business. Adon looked at her, expressionless for several instants before reaching to his right to fish blindly for a case file. His hand found its target on the first attempt, and he flipped the cover open.

"So." He said, since she seemed to still be there. He was certain that whatever he said was going to be received with disdain and an eyeroll, but they were at his desk, and he was allowed to say what he wanted--within reason. "Any news on last night? It turning into a case, or was that just a scuffle?"

It seemed like both of them were for the moment satisifed with the cease-fire.  Whether Zora would actually be able to leave off the hilariously dysfunctionality that was Adon And The Muggle, well, that would remain to be seen.  She'd give it a shot, surely, in good faith, even, but there was only so much you could do when two people were as impossibly dour and snobby as these two.  At least she knew what his buttons where.  If she pressed them in the correct order and in the proper procedure at least they could function alongside each other as Aurors.  So it wasn't going to be pints and laughs at each others' expense (like it was with most everyone else).  His loss.  Hope he enjoyed the heart attack he'd have in five years.

He wanted her to go.  She crossed her arms.  She was off duty by now anyway.  Could mosey on home whenever she felt like it.  Her wife'd be at work, so she'd just crawl into bed and sleep the day off until dinner time.  She had to admit at this point she was just sticking around the be contrary and watch him be awkward.

"Oh, work talk," she said in a cooperative tone.  "Of course, let's have some of that.  From what I hear, they're going to include the incident on Little Newport with the rest of the MacDuff material.  Probably link it to what happened with Fox," (Poor bastard.) "Still waiting on some reports to come back from the inspectors."  Who were incredibly backed up these days. 

It sucked big time considering Zora's stuff to do with Schlagenweit and Quinn were put behind the queue of the Direwolves investigation.  And now, her case was probably even less of a priority since MacDuff was so bloody exciting.  And he was with his murdering and all.

"C'mon, open the big one."

Whether or not Roh wanted to talk about work was not a choice. Adon was not going to talk about anything else with the woman, and she could not force a conversation on him. He listened to what she had to say, nodding. It all seemed to make sense--no surprises, but nice to hear the confirmation. "Wonder who's going to take on the MacDuff material, though, with Fox gone." Fox had left a hole in the casework. Dreogan's case--the possession by Terry Katsaros--would also need to be picked up by someone. They didn't have someone looking into the disappearance of magic--except what little Adon and Jonas were managing to piece together during free moments--and they were no closer to understanding the Direwolves situation, either. Even if they managed to rope in some new recruits at the career fair, it would be years until they got to the backlog--and by then, there was little hope that things would pick up again, magically with cold trails.

This line of thinking was brought to a halt as Roh brusquely commanded him to open the larger package. Adon had identified, from the scrawl, who it was from. Adon didn't have many child-aged friends. As Roh gestured shortly, Adon bristled perceptibly, protectively, like a dragon hoarding treasure, or guarding eggs. He made no motion to go towards the package.

"Look, Roh," he began in what he hoped was a patient tone, "I'm happy to--" Adon stopped as he saw a figure approach from his peripheral. Great. An audience.

Adon swiveled in his seat to take in the newcomer, countenance changing considerably the moment he saw who it was. "Joan." There was a slight lopsided smile, in which Adon decided whether or not to comment upon his partner's shining countenance--there were the vestiges of a hangover there, it seemed.

Or maybe he was just projecting.

There were a long list of things that Jonas did not want to deal with on this particular morning, and an off-temper Adon Eleor was near the top of the list.  The red-headed Auror had dragged himself into the office, barely managing to mutter a hello to anyone before he collapsed in his workspace.

As awful as he felt for feeling grateful for it, Fox's resignation had finally freed up an extra desk on Level Two, which meant that Jonas no longer had to share the cubicle with Adon.  Jonas sat huddled over the paperwork, holding his head in his hands, trying to ignore the voices that began to echo through the office as the other Aurors filtered in to start the week.  Most of them blended easily into the background noise, but the sharp consonants of the Israeli's speech cut through, made harsher as the exchange with his visitor grew more heated.

Jonas ignored it for as long as he could; as far as he was concerned, his partner was an adult and he could ward off his own nemeses.  But as the conversation dragged on -- likely half the office was listening in at this point -- it became obvious that neither Adon nor Roh was going to back down.  The last snapped response was enough.  Exasperated, Jonas grabbed a random collection of case files, pushed himself to his feet, and limped over to his partner's desk.

"'don," he countered, giving the younger Auror a pained look.  He could tolerate most of the nicknames that Adon threw his way, but there were one or two that grated, especially this early on a Monday morning.

"Oi, sorry to interrupt you both," he put in, nodding to both Roh and Eleor.  "But we've got that meeting with Catastrophes in five minutes, Adon, and I ought to brief you on the lift down."  Ever since 15 March, Jonas had been spending so much time with various Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes agents, repeating his increasingly tired assurances that he would not make hitting criminals with Muggle automobiles a regular habit, that he felt as if he ought to put in for a transfer to Level Three.  At least the endless meetings made for a believable excuse.  "You mind if I pull 'im away, Roh?" 

"And thanks again for the help last night," he assured the female Auror earnestly.  Diplomacy was the art of pretending that you didn't know when a sour exchange had just happened, and then changing the subject to something more flattering.  "Reckon we owe you lot for launching in like that."  He cracked a grin, flashing Zora a tired smile.  "I'll let Pratt know he's treating everyone to lunch."

When Jonas appeared, seemed that both Roh and Eleor slightly amused at the cheerful's Auror's drawn, taught kind of amiability.  Zora heard him out, again with that bland sort of tolerance.  Jonas Trevelyan, always with the right thing to say. 

Another meeting with Catastrophes?  Boyo, they couldn't get enough of this comedy team, could they?  Seemed like Trevelyan and Eleor had no end of meetings with the crew down there over what happened with Mulogo and that Muggle street corner.  She didn't envy them.  Catastrophites fancied themselves permitted to chastise Aurors when they got sloppy.  There was a giant wall-sized copy of the Statute of Secrecy in the main lobby and it loomed down on all of them like the Ten Commandments. 

"Yea, no problems," Zora said with sugary pleasantness.  "Glad to be apart of it."  It had been done by the book, perfectly done, but the situation was against them.  Sometimes Insane just flat out beat Authority.  They weren't getting medals for that performance but it's not as if they screwed up. 

But as tired as Jonas looked, Zora's body reminded her that she was coming off the odd over-night shift.  Lunch on Pratt was somewhere in the middle of the epic sleep session she planned on having once she'd bothered Eleor enough.   She sighed.

"You're a peach, Trevelyan.  He's all yours.  Happy Christmas.  But lunch is past my bedtime."