International floo could be a right bugger, especially when there was a queue to get through the fireplaces. If apparition didn't become more unreliable the further the distance, Johann was sure the wizarding world would have adopted it as the best form of transport for foreign travel. Instead, brooms would take ages (Johann would do practically anything not to have to use one), the Knight Bus didn't extend out of the British Isles, and portkeys were equally risky outside of a single country's boundaries.

Instead, Johann and Petra had travelled through a specially connected fireplace in the atrium, supervised daily by a member of the Department of Magical transport, which connected cross continentally - only typically - the floo network connection for the Netherlands was out of order - they'd lost a witch two days ago and she'd not turned up yet. Instead the wizard with his list beside the fireplaces gave them instructions on going to France and then using their fireplace to floo out again...

Faithfully they'd both stepped into the fire, and reappeared the other side in the French Ministry only to find that they were experiencing the same problem - or rather had taken the precaution. Exasperated, Johann and Petra flooed again to Belgium, where the Belgian witch laughed and pointed them towards some other fireplaces - Belgium, Luxembourg and the Netherlands connected far better for their local traffic and sharing resources, being smaller countries. Their floo was fine, and apparently they'd not lost anyone in a hundred and four years.

Relieved, and now potentially running late, Johann and Petra emerged in the Ministry of Magic in the Netherlands, waving their relevant papers under the nose of the alarmingly tall floo representative stood nearby. Satisfied, he gave them directions towards the place the two British Department of International Magical Co-Operation employees were to meet Maarten Bergen who had eventually decided to purchase three of the four properties Johann and Sasha had shown him. The fourth, Johann had purposely guided him away from, for the benefit of Vedir Prideaux, though the arrangement was unknown.

"Thank Merlin, I thought we were never going to get here this morning." Johann remarked to Petra, who he was accompanying to continue the good relationship with the Dutch magical architect. His intelligent and knowledgeable colleague was versed in law, something Johann had a growing interest in. He regularly fulfilled Petra's work requirements with translation or culture research, prioritising her above others because she always appreciated it.

"I mean there's international floo, and then there's whatever that was, but I suppose better than not getting here at all." He shrugged, slipping his hands into the pockets of his suit trousers. As usual, wearing a suit over his underweight frame, and shirt with no tie. His hair was brushed, but after all the flooing you could hardly tell. He kept spotting bits of chimney dust on his suit, but was unaware it had also peppered his black curls.

"Ha, if we are late, Gabrielle's going to have the DoMT strung up, which will make a pleasant change, from us." Johann gave Petra a boyish grin as they walked.

The brunette despised floo travel. Too messy, with soot and dust streaking her face, clothes and hair. She always came through the fireplace less than perfect, with her hair all skewed and dust settling on her clothes. Thank Merlin, she had not worn white today. Running late, was a pain, especially when one had to meet Maarten Bergen. She had heard of the famous Dutch architect. That his business was being expanded in Britain had left with the legal wing in charge of confirming the legalities, and insuring that no obstacles to his sale remained.

At least, her companion wasn't annoying. Johann Storm was intelligent, and efficient, two qualities that made her feel more friendly towards him. His altercation with Hamilton was known to everyone in the department. As Hamilton was a first-class arse, it had endeared him to her even more. She didn't mind  their first name basis. She had requested his services frequently, stealing him from the Trade Standards Body. If Hamilton couldn't behave with professionalism, then he'd have to make do with the consequences.

“True, but its best if we could have reached on time,” she countered. What Mister Bergen must think of their punctuality left her worried? Thankfully, the floo representative hadn't delayed them. She adjusted  the collar of her navy blue shirt, and smoothed away the wrinkles in her skirt. Hopefully, she would look presentable. Gabrielle. Oh yes, Storm was related to her boss. Close enough to call her by her first name. “I'd love to present for the show,” she smirked at him. His humor was infectious. Sending memos off to the DoMT deriding their services, and efficiency, and thereby flooding them would paperwork was another idea. She'd get on it after they got back to the Ministry.

The elevator stopped at the floor they needed to be on, stepping out, Petra glanced at the signs—written in Dutch, of course-- quizzically. The attendant had said they had to turn left, and walk past five doors, before reaching the conference room. Her knuckles tapped the door twice, and a man's voice called out. Presumably, telling them to enter in Dutch. Gesturing to the door, she said, “After you, Johann.”

Giving his hair a final shake having realised he was carrying soot in it, Johann opened the door, and led them into the room beyond, a smart board room with an oval table to seat twelve. On their left and right as they stepped through were three windows which must be bewitched, given there were two rooms either side of this in the corridor, and on the far wall, another door beneath a six foot square oil painting of a wizard carrying a globe, with a boat in the background sailing back and forth, who set it down to scrutinize Johann and Petra's entry.

Johann couldn't recall the occupant of the painting immediately, and besides, his intrigue was taken by the figures sat at the table before them. Once again, Bergen's translator was laid up still sick, not that Johann mourned for the man's presence, he'd only ever corresponded with Bergen's translator by owl before he got sick.

Bergen was all smiles, glad to meet them, which was a contrast to the others with them. Stealing a hesitant glance at the grandfather clock ticking resolutely in a corner, it indicated they were practically on time.
"Mr Bergen." Johann greeted politely and nodded to the others. "Sorry we're a little late, had to travel via Belgium." He explained in Dutch, before turning to introduce Petra with her full title and role in the proceedings, before uttering quietly in English that he'd just apologised for their slight tardiness.

"Do sit down." Bergen spoke to them both in his awkwardly pronounced English, before offering them both refreshment, starting in English, and resulting in gesturing to the middle of the table. There was a tray with silver coffee pot and cups and saucers. At the suggestion, the pot turned on the tray as if to regard them, and Johann felt obliged to accept.

"I am here merely to facilitate a common language," He addressed in the host's native language, "I'll keep up." He assured them and smiled to them and then to Petra, giving a wink.
"Go ahead, let's seal the deal." He told her in English, raising his coffee to his lips ready to roll.

Whether the Dutch side were going to be as happy about the price and agreed contracts for the three properties as Bergen was (there were tales of his team being picky - which was precisely what he employed them to be) Johann didn't know, but out of the British contingent, they'd sent the best. Petra Pendrick-Talonen would close any loophole, Johann was sure.