Phew!

Talk about a busy day. Propped up against one of the walls was a very tired, very overworked Flannery Breckinridge. Clutched to her chest was the latest revised write-up of the potion she'd been slaving over for the past month or so. She'd finally finished it, making sure all her "I's" were dotted and "T's" crossed. She really couldn't afford having to start over from scratch just because a few details were unclear. The boss wouldn't like that very much at all. And whatever the boss didn't like, she damn sure wanted to avoid.

Eventually, her thoughts managed to drift away from work to other equally pressing matters. She'd gotten a letter from home the other day, written by her mother. Apparently her dear grandmother had run afoul of the law due to an altercation at an informal function for former Salem Dueling Club members. Her old rival had been present, and deciding to press their luck had made a few less than polite remarks. Needless to say, the party in question ended up concussed to hell and back by her grandmother -- enough to where the authorities were forced to get involved. Though her mother assured her that they hadn't locked the cantankerous old woman up and thrown away the key, Flannery still found herself worried for what would eventually come of the debacle.

Still, she bet her grandmother had been amazing...

Deciding to take a few more minutes of alone time, she slowly shut her eyes and let out a heavy sigh. Goodness, she was so tired she could fall asleep right here standing up. As soon as her shift ended she was going to make a mad dash for her flat, take a nice long hot bath, and then proceed to crawl into bed and sleep for god knows how long.

Yeah. That sounded utterly delightful...

The days since the last full moon had gone by in a blur, and it had left the werewolf hunter even more irritable because of it.  Months with big werewolf attacks tended to half a ripple effect; the full moons that followed tended to be much worse than usual, simply because so many new werewolves could be created whenever one lycanthrope got out of hand.  With the added complications of pressure from the Prophet, the new direwolves, and the fact that he was currently suffering from a case of completely unwanted flatmates (Kurby emphasized the completely unwanted part in his head whenever he thought on his current living situation), it was almost more than he could take.

Working with the Unspeakables was never a pleasant experience.  Aside from the fact that the atmosphere on Level Nine simply gave him the shivers, Kurby hated dealing with anyone who preferred the theoretical over the practical.  Most of the Unspeakables he'd met were downright creepy -- like Downer, whom he never quite trusted not to drive a pick into his eye just to see what would happen.  Most of the time, dealing with them meant having to consult on some new hair-raising, conscious-less experiment.  Kurby hated werewolves as much as anyone, but the thought of anything having to take part in their unnatural explorations left his teeth on edge.

He was already in a sour mood by the time he reached the area where Breckinridge usually worked.  It had been a month, and still Level Nine had come up with no answers -- why the direwolves transformed during the day, why the curse was suddenly so different from normal.  Considering how much time the Unspeakables spent muttering mysteriously to each other or gazing off into open space, as far as Kurby was concerned, they should have had an answer five times over by now.

He hadn't made an appointment, but he never did.  If the Unspeakables wanted to complain about him interrupting their precious work again, then they could go complain to Manley.  For all Kurby was concerned, the constant interruptions were their own bleeding fault.  If they wanted him to leave them the hell alone, then they shouldn't be taking so long to find the cause of the direwolves.

Kurby rounded the corner to the potions workshop and stopped short, catching sight of the young woman leaning against the wall with her eyes shut.  Clenching his teeth together, he narrowed his eyes.  Apparently it was taking so long because one of the researchers was sleeping on the job.

"Breckinridge!" he barked, fully intending to make her jump. 

The werewolf hunter stalked forward, completely prepared to bite her head off himself if she didn't snap to attention.  "You've gotten everything figured out and that's why you're takin' a nap, then?" he asked harshly, sparing no mercy as he stepped close to glare at the American.  "Because the rest of us are still waitin' for an answer on the bleedin' direwolves, and it sure as hell makes me feel a lot better knowin' you're so confident about it that you're sleepin' on the job."

Having one's peace and tranquility shattered is always a jarring experience. Flannery had just started to ponder what she was going to have for dinner tonight -- (should she cook herself or order out?) -- when a boisterous, angry voice cut through the air. Jumping as expected, she nearly dropped the write-up as she stood at attention, wide-eyed and looking around to seek out the cause of the intrusion. Fortunately -- or unfortunately in hindsight -- she didn't have to look far. One Kurby Bagnold was stalking towards her, eliciting a groan of annoyance from deep within.

How could she begin to explain what a pain in the ass Bagnold was? Ever since her department had been consulted to help with the out of control direwolves situation she had been forced to come into contact with the overly aggressive man. The mere thought of their first encounter made her cringe even to this day -- and, like they said, everything had been downhill from there. At first there were attempts on her part to get along with him for the good of the cause and all that jazz. But she quickly found herself unable to work up any further pleasantries when all she was met with was further gruffness.

Soooo, no. Kurby Bagnold was most definitely not her favorite person in the Ministry -- or on the entire planet for that matter. Taking a deep breath inward, she put on a stony face and braced herself to "jump into the fire" so to speak.

"I was not sleeping, Bagnold. Was merely taking a short break after finishing another assignment." She gestured down to the files she now clutched by her side, secretly glad that it was not anything pertaining to what he was down here for. "My superior thought it best I clear up the clutter so that the Direwolves case could become our... sole focus." Ugh. Saying that made her want to grimace, though she hoped informing him that they were in fact still cooperating with his department would placate him somewhat. 'The sooner he crawls back to whatever dark pit he slunk out of the better...'

"Can I help you with anything else? Or is that all you came for?"

The response was almost as good as he had hoped for.  Smirking, Kurby leaned his shoulder against the wall, watching coolly as Breckinridge jumped.  Judging by her expression, which quickly faded from a look of panic to an unhappy cringe, she was just as happy to see him as he was to have to waste his time down on Level Nine.

As expected, she immediately launched into an excuse -- waving at the files, claiming that she'd only been taking a break.  Kurby watched her impassively, raising his eyebrows to make it clear just how little he believed her.  He knew the files trick.  All you had to do was lug a few around and everyone in the Ministry would assume you were busy.

The trainee Unspeakable finished her excuses quickly, and then began looking for her obvious escape.  "Can I help you with anything else? Or is that all you came for?"

"What, you mean besides catchin' you asleep?" he retorted, crossing his arms.  He had no intention of letting her off so easily.  Whether or not he wanted to be down here, whether or not it was a waste of time, he was perfectly happy to make someone else's day even more unpleasant than his own.  "How the hell does nappin' on the job help you clear up the clutter?  Do you Unspeakables do all your work with your eyes closed, now?"

He snapped his fingers, and then bared his teeth at her in a smirk.  "No, let me guess at it," he said nastily.  "You can't tell me.  It's all top secret, isn't it?"

Did she have a target painted directly on her face or something? Why was he still hanging around her? Oh, right. Misery loves company. And Bagnold was misery incarnate. Already she was starting to feel him bringing her down. And after having such an otherwise good day, too. Maybe he could smell whenever someone was feeling content, then rush toward wherever they were and proceed to cut them down ferociously with that damn annoying smirk of his. How sick.

"Again, I was not sleeping. But you can believe whatever you want." She shrugged, trying to remain cool and collected when on the inside she was truly bubbling with agitation. "And no, I cannot tell you anything about what I'm working on unless it concerns the Direwolves." Flannery added, turning her nose up at him. There just had to be someone else she could deal with other than Bagnold himself. She could most likely request such a thing easily... though that would only give him the satisfaction of knowing he coerced her into running away from him. Ugh, she just couldn't stomach knowing that.

"Now are you done? I'm not much for standing around being sneered at by someone trying to be intimidating..."

The werewolf hunter barked out a laugh, smirking humorlessly back at her.  "If I was tryin', you wouldn't be standin' there," he said nicely, his smirk verging dangerously close to becoming a leer.  "If you don't want to be sneered at, Breckinridge, maybe you should try gettin' some work done instead of catchin' some winks.  It's not my fault you don't have much of a work ethic."

For all her complaints, the Junior Unspeakable hadn't bothered to try to leave yet.  Kurby stayed where he was, feet planted and arms crossed, his body language making it clear that he wasn't being driven off anytime soon.

"And no," he said flatly.  "I'm not done.  You idiots are takin' so bleedin' long to find any answers, the green cheese in the moon'll rot before we find out what's causin' those werewolves."  He eyed her distastefully, clearly not happy that this was the person that he had to work with.  "I want to see what you've got so far.  Quit wastin' time and show me what you've got on the direwolves so I can get back to all of the important things I have to get done."