On most days, Archie could corral himself into hard work. His heart and his mind, and... well, other parts of him... were usually elsewhere. Retracing the figures of pretty girls he'd seen on the street, and mulling over memories of his slightly younger years blown on drunken revelry. Paperwork had never been his forte, and he had been an absolutely abysmal test-taker as a kid. Every homework assignment he had ever blown off seemed to be rearing its ugly reincarnated head in the form of endless bureaucratic forms.

He mashed his face restlessly with his hands and leaned back as far on his chair as he could go. Eating away at him was the fact that he hadn't been laid in nearly two months. Since his debut, it had been far and away the longest dry spell he'd ever faced.

He let his eyes rest on the stack of papers he had been avoiding and tried to avert them as quickly as he could. What, he thought, am I just gonna tell myself I didn't see them there?

Another quick dart of his eyes landed on his slightly crumpled carton of cigarettes. Menthol. Menthol would do it. Before he knew what he was doing, he was fishing around inside the box for one of the five cigarettes left. He had already taken two breaks, but he didn't think anyone would notice him slipping out the door...

Griffon usually sat in his office with the door closed. This was because he had found out rather quickly the rest of the department did not appreciate his birds, squirrels, and other creatures he had added for ambiance escaping and running (or flying) around their desks. But today, he had decided to nose about the entire department instead. The full moon was coming up in a little over a week, so the department was usually a bit busier- especially with these direwolves on the loose.

He had been meaning to find the time to chat with his new employee. The boy was qualified and he seemed nice enough. Griffon hadn't heard any complaints about him, which was well and good.

Griffon had passed by Friar's desk a couple of times during the day, and the man hadn't been there. He was just now coming back from sending a few owls and saw the new Magizoologist fishing around in his cigarette pack and heading for the door. Interesting.

The head of the department made a beeline for him. "Friar! There you are! I've been searching for you all day!" Griffon said with a bright smile. "Going out for a smoke? Good, good, I think I'll join you! Been meaning to see how you're doing and if you've settled and all that."

Archie was feeling very slick, assuming that'd he'd managed to slip out unnoticed. The farther he walked, the more zoned-out he got, until he was totally engrossed in the sickening memory of his most recent- and most painful- breakup. It was him who'd done the leaving, but unlike past relationships that fact didn't comfort him. He jammed the cigarette into his mouth absently and was nearly home free when-

"Friar!"

Shit. Involuntarily, he winced, his shoulders tensing up. He nearly bit through his cigarette in surprise. Generally when he heard his name called it was bad. He was pleasantly surprised, however, when he wheeled around to find his boss with an amiable grin plastered on his face. "Oh, hey, sir," he said, stuttering slightly as he often did when nervous. Though... he wasn't really sure why he was nervous- the man seemed pretty cool, and clearly if he were going to take issue with him he'd have done it already. "Yeah, definitely," he grinned, calming down a little.

He liked the UK so far, he thought. It was weird going from dry, hot Arizona to a place that seemed to be moist as a Duncan Hines cake ninety percent of the time. ...And, the more he thought about it, it was weird for him to be surrounded by so many white people all the time, too. "I'm... adjusting," he said with a little laugh. "I almost died the first time I tried to drive. Did you know y'all've been driving on the wrong side of the road this whole time?" he joked.

Griffon paused at the door, pointing his wand at his office. "Accio Cigar!" he called out. The door to his office opened, and a cigar flew out, and he picked it from the air, then flicked his wand again to close and lock his office door. "Cigar man myself," Griffon explained. "Picked up the habit from my father, he smokes them all the time. Looks like a train if you follow him 'round enough."

Usually Griffon refrained from smoking when on the job. He enjoyed a cigar in the evening with his father on a regular basis, but he decided it would be odd if he followed his employee out for a smoke and didn't actually smoke.

Griffon laughed when the boy said that they had been driving on the wrong side of the road. "Surprised you even bother with the driving," he commented. "I was raised muggle, too," Griffon added- assuming that if Archie was bothering to drive, then he must have been a muggleborn. "But after Hogwarts just didn't see the need for it. Floo and apparating are just much more convenient. Quicker, too. But to each his own, I suppose!"

Griffon walked out the door, then waved at a woman who had just gotten onto the lift. "Hold the door, would you?" he called out. But she must not have heard him (or pretended not to hear) and went on her way without waiting for Griffon or his employee. "Some people, eh?" he commented.

Archie caught himself smiling genuinely. He missed his father very much, and although the differences were obvious- his father was much older and more of a hard-ass- there was a certain part of him that wanted the similarities to outweigh that. "God, my old man does it all...  dip, cigarettes, cigars- I think he'd probably snort it if he could get it ground fine enough."  He looked at the cigarette pinched between the two little yellowy tobacco stains on his middle and index fingers and held it up guiltily. "Think he'd disown me if he heard I was smoking Newports, though. It's Marlboro reds or the highway for him."

It was nice to have someone to smoke with, he thought cheerfully. His forays thus far had been quiet, introspective, and a little lonely- and usually in the drizzling rain, for that matter. Four of his least favorite things.

Of course, Griffon's claim of the convenience of wizarding transportation was entirely valid. Archie often felt silly explaining his fondness for cars and trucks. It was entirely based in sentimentality, and that was one of the most difficult emotions to explain. After all, he had never totaled a fireplace trying to floo somewhere, and apparating didn't cost him close to four bucks a gallon. "Yeah, it's stupid. It's just, like, I grew up on... um, a cattle ranch? And pretty much when you turn, like, nine, they stick you behind the wheel of a truck and get you to haul stuff around between fields. So it's just kinda a nice familiar thing to do. I dunno. That sounds stupid. It's just... I just kinda think the getting there part is really fun, too." He bit at a hangnail, and then grinned. "Well that, and only a kick-ass car can really show people I'm overcompensating for something."

Archie threw his hands up at the woman and shook his head. "Wow. Okay. No. She totally heard you. That was intentional."  Nobody in Many Farms would have done that, he thought to himself. If they'd had an elevator that wasn't specifically crafted for housing grain, anyway. "Maybe it's her way of encouraging us to break the habit."

Griffon laughed. "Sounds like your old man and mine would get along well," he laughed. "Mine's on the wizengamot, was an auror for a very long time- through the first war, even. Mine just about disowned me when he found out I wasn't going to follow in his footsteps." Not that Griffon had been particularly close with his dad growing up. His step-father had raised him, almost exclusively, and his biological father had plenty of children from a handful of different women.

"Cattle farm?" Griffon repeated, tone swelling with pride. "I grew up the same! Cattle farm in Wales. Know exactly what you mean, about driving between fields and all. Loved it more than anything. S'why I do what I do now! If I didn't have the little brother to take over for mom and dad I probably would have gone right back after I graduated from Hogwarts."

"Driving is loads of fun, I'll give you that one, just never bothered to keep up with it. Just be careful, and don't go 'round tinkering with the car. The ministry has some, you know, that are enchanted inside to be larger. So I guess it's not totally unheard of."

Griffon continued on to the lift, and pressed the button, waiting on it come back down and open. "Maybe she thinks I've got the same reputation as dear ol' dad. Eighty-four and still chases skirts around the office. Women that could be my daughter aren't my type. Steal freaks me out my little sister is young enough to be my daughter- what's worse is that means my dad was doing the deed when he was in his sixties... And still potent." Griffon made a strained face. Not an image he wanted.

"How are you liking it in London?" Griffon asked as the lift door opened and he stepped inside.

Archie made a small "oof" noise and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not sure I could handle that kinda pressure," he admitted. He already felt like a failure when he went home because most of his cousins had gone on to good schools- muggle schools- and were living very comfortably in old plantation houses across the south. Archie, as it was, had about four hundred pounds in his bank account, and ate mac and cheese ten times a week. "Wasn't he... y'know, proud? That you were doing something you loved?"

Archie's face lit up. "No kidding?" he asked excitedly. "We had Longhorn Steer," he added. "One of the bigger family-owned ranches outside of Texas. My old man was kinda a beef celebrity. He had a billboard, actually," he laughed. "It was in the middle of nowhere, nobody saw it, but it was still a billboard." He hadn't talked to anyone since moving to Britain who had grown up in anything resembling a similar childhood to his own. In the part of Arizona he grew up in, nearly everyone had grown up on a ranch or at least a farm- it was called Many Farms, after all. "Yeah, my kid sister is probably gonna take over the family business, 's'matter of fact," he said. "She's a little spitfire like my dad; I'm pretty sure she'll have at least a local access commercial or somethin'."

He thought fondly about his ranch- his father gave him the task of naming all the new steer, which made it more fun when he went out to feed them and clean up after them. It wasn't until he was older that he figured out that all his bovine friends were going off to slaughter- but at that point he knew that it was what put food on the table and a roof over his head, so he kept it to himself.

Tinkering with the car? Well, he knew that it was done occasionally, but the thought had honestly never crossed his mind to try it himself. Of course now he was going to have to do it at least once or twice.

Archie's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. He had never thought that his parents had sex after Haley was born. They didn't really... seem the type. But this new influx of information was very disconcerting to that thought. "Oh my God," he grimaced, wrinkling his nose. "Your dad fathered a child at sixty damn years old?" he cringed. "What the hell?"

He took a tentative step onto the elevator. Elevators still freaked him out a little- since moving here they seemed to be everywhere. "It's a little bit of culture shock, I guess," he ventured. "I mean, I like it, don't get me wrong. It's just super different. Like, I feel like a total hillbilly runnin' around here with this accent. Everyone here sounds so fancy."

"Old wizards can be funny," Griffon said. "Never had much to do with me until I entered Hogwarts- my step-dad raised me with my mom. Second I found out I was magic I was spending summers in an old estate while my dad chased around women half his age. He's a good guy- don't get me wrong. Took care of me, gave me money to spend at Hogwarts, probably put in a good word to get me my promotion- but he wanted me to be an auror, like him. Looks down on the creature unit, mostly. But I just love animals, always have."

"I guess he's proud of me now. Biggest falling out happened when I went to Tibet to wrangle yetis. I was there for about fifteen years, didn't come home much to see my family. You didn't really get a day off from that. But close to the end the job was less about protecting Yetis and more about obliviating muggles, and I've never liked that. Came back to London to head up the Beast Division and a few months later found myself as head of Level Four."

Griffon laughed when Archie seemed to have the same reaction that he'd had when he found his dad had fathered a child at the age of sixty. "Look at it this way- he's obviously enjoying life, and if I can be up and at 'em like my old man when I'm sixty, I guess I'd be out having some fun, too. She lives with us- my sister, I mean. When I came back from Tibet moved back in with Dad and just haven't moved out yet. I think he's going senile."

"Funny thing is the old man named her Polka-Dot. She's a model," Griffon stated simply. "Still creepy to see her flouncing around the house in her skimpy pajamas like it's no big deal."

Griffon definitely understood culture shock. It had been insane to go from a cattle farm to Hogwarts. "Not everyone sounds fancy, you'll learn to pick it apart eventually. There's a couple of aurors who don't sound nearly as posh. You'll pick up on it." Of course, to Griffon most Americans sounded the same, so no doubt everyone from the UK sounded the same to Archie.

"Have you made any friends yet?" Griffon asked. "There's a few people in the department close to your age, like to go out. You missed the old welcome witch. She died in the werewolf attacks in March. She would have shown you a good time, if you catch my drift," he said with a wink.

Archie wasn't sure what would be appropriate to say to Griffon on the subject of his family life. His immediate inclination was to say 'yo, your family's messed. up.' But he thought better of it. Of course, he didn't know whether he had room to judge; he had plenty of glaringly racist cousins and a few of the nastier varieties of Bible-thumpers. Archie himself was religious, at least by name, anyway, and certainly white, but while he loved his cousins he also wanted to clamp their faces in a series of bear traps.

And he supposed if his father had been a bit more of a lothario it would have made more sense to him. The man could never even stand to kiss his wife in front of his kids. He found it terribly inappropriate. Archie wasn't sure which one was weirder.

"Yeah. I mean, I guess it's the same everywhere. I didn't mean to insinuate I thought all you guys were... snobby. Or anything. I guess we all just think you guys sound real nice." It was a painfully awkward sentence and he wasn't sure he had actually gotten a point across. Oh well. "I mean, we've got... New Jersey accents over there so I mean we think even the worst accent here sounds nicer than the more annoying ones we've got."

Archie wanted to tell him that he was a beacon of popularity like he'd been at home, but it would have been a very obvious bald-faced lie. "Not really," he admitted sheepishly. "I guess I just don't know what to say to people."

Even with magic, half the time you had to wait for the lift. Sissel hit the button again.

He wasn't worried, however. At times when he needed to wait, Sissel had the latest song stuck in his head on playback. Or occassionally scat. "Ba bo bay b-baba doh ba bee ba d'daba dee / Ba bo bay b-baba doh ba bee ba d'daba dee / Ba bo bay b-baba doh ba bo bay b-baba doh ba bo bay b-baba doh ba bee ba d'daba dee!"[1]

Ding! That seemed to open the doors. On his last chorus he found a lift heading in the right direction with two occupants. He entered with a nod. "Manley," he said, recognizing the Magical Creatures head. He pushed his button. "Fresh cheese in the Department?" he asked, offering a hand. "Sissel Jowd."

1.

music

Griffon didn't know anything about New Jersey accents, but assumed they must be pretty dreadful given the tone of Archie's voice. "No worries, I wasn't offended," Griffon offered. And he wasn't.

It was a shame to hear that he hadn't really made many friends. "People at work are a good place to start. Margo Amherst- works with dragons- is a fun girl. I hear some of the aurors aren't bad guys- I don't mind 'em so long as they aren't throwing their weight around my department. Won't make friends if you don't say hello now and again to some people."

"If you haven't been to Hogsmeade yet you should try going to Signature. It's a night club. Bit too old for that myself, but you're a young guy I'm sure you'd enjoy loud music and scanitly clad witches, yeah?" Griffon paused for a moment, and grinned. "Come to think of it, though, I don't suppose you ever get too old to enjoy a scantily clad witch." Griffon enjoyed looking at them, even if he didn't often enjoy their company.

He was about to suggest perhaps he and Archie should head to the pub sometime when the lift door opened and another man climbed in. Griffon didn't like the way that Sissel called his employee "fresh cheese", and almost immediately his entire demeanor changed. The friendly smile was wiped away and his stance changed. Griffon Manley was a large man- and it seemed, that in a split second, he was suddenly taking up much more room than he was the moment before.

"Not very observant, are you Jowd?" Griffon asked flatly. "Friar's been round for a few months now." Jowd's suddent interference was not welcome. Griffon saw this conversation with Archie as Official Bussiness. And he didn't like it when he felt that others were intruding upon his Official Business. Griffon was notoriously territorial when it came to his department and employees (a fitting trait for a man who dealt with magical creatures on a daily basis).

Of course, now finding room in the lift with Griffon Manley and underling was proving to be challenging. Sissel struggled to hit his designated floor button. Was the temperature dropping?

"Not very observant, are you Jowd?" Manley said in a gruff. "Friar's been round for a few months now."

"Well, I didn't notice him before. Magical Transportation[1] and Magical Creatures rarely cross jurisdiction, unless someone had their Abraxan drawn carriage crash into a telephone pole or something."

For all Manley doubted of Sissel's observation skills the shorter man was very quick on reading a change in mood. "It was the cheese comment, wasn't it? Well, I didn't want to call him fresh blood, that would mean he gets fatally wounded, or fresh meat cause then he would be beaten to a pulp. So what's the worst that happens to fresh cheese? It gets grilled, that's what, so he'll be under intense scrutiny and/or third degree burns and that would be bad because he's named Friar so, so...wait a tick." Sissel mumbled the past words to himself, only know realizing what he was saying. "I think I lost my metaphor."

1.	Sissel works for the Time Travel Investigation and Regulation Bureau, work so clandestine his cover story is that he works in Transportation. Otherwise he would be known as 'The Unspeakable that talks too much.'

Archie shook the new man's hand, looking nervously between the two. "Archie Friar," he replied. He felt strangely like he was trapped in the car with his arguing parents. They both knew what the tension was about, but Archie, wide-eyed in the backseat with his sister, was only dragged along for the ride.

It was suddenly a steel cage of conflict. "Oh, um..." he started, shrinking back into himself as they continued. "It's okay, I mean, I haven't really been a social butterfly or anything," he said with a slightly pained grin.

How would the me who *was* in his element handle this? he asked himself. He wished he had a plate of cookies. That was generally how he solved problems at home. No one could be in a bad mood while eating a snickerdoodle.

"I think you guys are both great," he blurted out and then realized how stupid it sounded.

"There are some people in the ministry, Friar, who are a waste of time," Griffon said idly after Sissel's failed metaphor had been allowed to linger for a few seconds. "And I'm glad you aren't a social butterfly. Obviously means you focus on your work and do what you're supposed to rather than wasting my time and the ministry's finances by flitting about sticking your nose in places where it doesn't belong."

The lift stopped as they came into the phonebox the street just as Archie said something about both guys being great. "I wouldn't be so quick to judge if I were you, Friar. A few seconds is hardly time enough to make an appropriate assessment of anyone's character."

He pat down his pockets, and gave Archie a pointed glance. "Seems I've left my cigar clipper down at my desk. You and Jowd will certainly have a lovely time talking about nonsense while you enjoy your cigarette. Good luck with those metaphors," he added, holding the lift door open- obviously intending for the both of them to empty out on the street and allow him to take the lift back down- alone.

It probably didn't help points with other Department Head when Sissel snorted back laughter when Manley said "waste of time." Waste. Of. Time. Oh, if he could only talk freely.

Getting his laughs under control, Sissel offered some parting words as Manley decided to excuse himself. "Wait, places where my nose doesn't belong? In a public lift? Do you actually hold staff meetings in lifts, Manley? You might want to stop the elevator between floors if you want the privacy."[1]

"He's a jovial one," Sissel said with a grin when he and Archie were alone. "He likes to be alpha dog, the department's his pack and all that and I'm the lone wolf.  You'll be amazed how many people here get their personality to mold after their work."

"So you have been with the Ministry for a bit now, eh? Settling in, managing the stress, balancing your private life, all that? Keep you nose clean and you'll be more to Manley then a pup I bet. Handkerchief could help."

1.	There's an obvious NCIS joke here so I won't make it.