An airy chuckle tickled Delilah's throat as a smile pecked at her cheeks, "So you 'goin to do something helpful, but you don't know what you're doing?" The witch's dreadlocks patted againser her back as she began taking long strides down one of the hallways towards their library as Freher meekly retreated from the conversation again.

She lifted a slim palm into the air, uncurling her fingers with a light shrug, "I'm not sure what 'dey want either dear, but can't go on chasing nothing now, is 'dere?" her voice curled from an amusing swing to a harsh buzz.

Once they reached the door to the library, Delilah ran her hazel hand over the locks on the door, and they began to crank and turn to let her and Freher enter a wide room tightly packed and decorated with an assortment of tombs. "So what izzit you're going to do t'help, Freher? Any ideas?"

Why that Healer should be so tough? And scaring and... Slightly annoying. Not that Una was able to express that kind of thought but for a second, behind Foley’s back, her face twitched inevitably, just like someone who ate a really bitter thing.

When they got to the library, she wasn’t in the mood to be impressed by the tombs and Delilah’s question - or else, the way she asked - made Una sight and close her disposition a little more. “Listen, Foley, I’m not the Healer here - you are.” She stated, seriously. “And it happens that you know better about this issue than I do, so, in the present moment, the only help I can offer is the will of learning everything there’s possible about it. Then I’ll make sure to do everything I can to be useful, but right now I’m in the dark, and I can’t work in the dark. Could you please have the kindness of bring me some light?” All that she said quickly, heavily serious, enjoying the sudden courage to do so before it vanishes.

Delilah raised an eyebrow, still with a ghost of a smile peering on her face.,"I've told you everything I know, and I've offered what you can do," a hand snaked down to her hip and she looked down at the short witch with a nod of her chin, "but you didn't like any of it."  Delilah, of course, had much more less legal thing she could tell Freher, but she wasn't about to do that so willingly.

"No, you aren't a healer--nor are you my daughter, so I don't know what you expect me to do witchyou," the smile on the older witch's face then faded to an indifferent line, as Delilah regarded the other witch with half-lidded eyes.

"If you expect me to have all 'di answers you best go stick your nose somewhere else, or find out what you want to do. Dere isn't much to teach you if you don't get a starting point, chile." There was no contempt in Delilah's tone, just a cordial criticism.

"It's your choice."

How could she possibly judge if she liked something or not? Besides, “I’m not here to like or dislike anything, Healer Foley. I took notice of everything you said and it all will be considered.”  She crossed her arms over the parchment, tight on her chest, face flushed with the feeling of affront. And it only got worse with Delilah’s next words.

Breathe, breathe, calm down. Una started a struggle inside her to try to expel that bad feeling. Wasn’t her purpose going there clear? Shame on the Ministry, shame on St. Mungo’s - but not on her. That wasn’t anything, absolutely anything personal. Why she seemed to treat it that way?

“Face the facts, Healer Foley: I’m not a Healer nor your daughter, das ist korrekt! I’m an Alchemist working to the Ministry of Magic and my superiors sent me here today to collect data with you, Healer, as a professional.  Work. In cooperation. With you. As a professional.” Una punctuated, slowly and coldly. “That’s the only thing I expect, but now my hands are tied. I don’t have any experience with the case, and neither have my books; my cauldron; my plants; or any sample in hand to study it right now. My starting point here is questioning, is gain knowledge. But if you already stated you have no more answers, and if I’m allowed to continue my research here alone… then you’re dismissed!”

She looked at the witch in the eyes before turning the back on her, slightly trembling. Only then her eyes wet, but no tear ran down on her face. That kind of tear was destined to dry alone. “If you have any objection about my presence here you can complain with the Ministry as well, it’s none of my business. But if you still want to cooperate I can only assure you that we’re going to talk again soon. And the tone will be other.” Gott, how hard it was to say that… Una felt she was getting sick.

“Now it’s your choice.”

The younger witches anger  narrowed Delilah's dark eyes curiously, sharply--like a lioness ready to bare her teeth. "Data?" She dropped a shoulder back and drew to her full height, as she hissed out the phrase with biting ease, "You're looking at the library, aren't you chile?" A long hand swept a view over the rows and rows of tombs in the third floor's libary.

"I've given you knowledge on 'di matter, I've given you data--you can look at all 'di patients you like. You don't have to like anyt'ing I say, no," a single fine finger raised in front of Delilah before she pointed it down at the shorter witch, "but you are actin' like an ignorant toddler who doesn't want 'deir pox medicine--not someone who wants to collaborate."

"But wit' 'dat sort of tone and blatant ignorance, my choice?" Her brows cruelly rose as her voice dropped into a lilting growl, "Come back when you know what yer doing--'Di Ministry can take up 'dat decision wit' me personally." She had had enough of this little witch now, her sudden change in behavior, and her complete naivete of what it meant to do anything she had just said. It wasn't a one-way street in the real world, and she wasn't going to baby the girl.

Delilah shut the door to the library and bobbed her nose in the direction from where they had come. The exit. "Fer now, you may leave, else you will be escorted off th' premises." Delilah's arms crossed again, as she stood her ground, like a predator. If the girl even dared to open her mouth to speak again the Jamaican was quite sure the witch wouldn't step foot inside Mungo's again unless she was in escorted in on a stretcher.

Her sort of tone and her blatant ignorance? Really? Una started to recall the last minutes, just to formulate a thousand reasons why she strongly believed she wasn’t the one who started to take the conversation in a non-professional, offensive way. But she felt that she was unable to open her mouth again without vomiting by nervous on Foley’s feet. And the whole thing was stressful and humiliating enough without that.

So she didn’t speak anymore; she didn’t look at Foley anymore and she certainly didn’t need to be threatened to leave - trembling, pale and slightly catatonic, like one who has just dealt with a Dementor.

What had just happened? The power to recall the whole meeting started to fail as soon as she started to breathe again, instead of just pull that heavy air to her lungs and push out. Did she…? Was she just…? What the…? Gott, most importantly, was Foley right? All the reasons she had to stand and say, hardly, yes, but still she did said all that to the Healer - all her belief that she was the right one just crashed on her mind. She was wrong. She wished she could turn back in time and shut her mouth sooner, no matter how she felt attacked by the other witch. In the end Foley was just like her sister and Una understood why her father always interceded before that sort of thing happen.

If there was a next time, she would probably go out, breathe some air and take some water before answer anything to Foley. Or just not answer at all. That’s if she still got her job. In any case, it was a good thing to pray before heading to the Ministry, even if it was standing on a Muggle’s sidewalk.