Even in the Department of Mysteries, it was rare that one could honestly say that one had gotten lost after taking a wrong turn at Mars, but Jonas had somehow managed it.  As much as he wanted to blame the young man in trainee Unspeakable robes for suggesting he take a shortcut through the Planetary Room, he suspected it had been his own fault.  Phobos, Deimos -- he had no idea which moon was which, nor any clue as to when one was waxing or waning.  The innocent mistake had turned into a twenty minute detour, ending when he'd managed to interrupt an older Unspeakable who was in the process of doing something with potions.  With a headache still lingering from their overnight in Dublin, the resulting verbal explosion about meddling, intruding Aurors had proven too much for his senses, and he'd beat a hasty retreat.

At least he'd found Downer's workshop in the end.  Private workspaces were not entirely common on Level Nine, but the other wizard had somehow gotten one.  As the Auror opened the door, he quickly realized that it wasn't hard to understand why:  the rotting smell that emanated from the tiny lab could have curdled a latte.  Jonas had no idea if the stench was normal or not, but it was enough to make him consciously hold his breath as he stepped inside. 

He'd known very little about the younger man until their introduction the other night.  Downer had struck him as sensible and entirely reasonable, if a bit of an introvert.  What Macduff had put him through could not be easy to live with, and yet like Margo Amherst, he'd willingly thrown in with their group without really knowing what he might be in for.

That on its own would have made Jonas predisposed to like him.  This was as much a social visit as it was a business one, even if the socialness was extrinsically motivated.  If they were going to do this -- if they were going to find a way to capture Macduff without all managing to get fired for it -- there had to be some sort of underlying foundation of trust.  Even Bagnold had ties to Adon, and Amherst obviously had some sort of relationship with Bagnold.  Downer was too easy to identify as the sole outsider. 

"Afternoon, mate," Jonas put in cheerfully as he closed the door behind him, giving the room a quick glance over.  As long as he didn't try to breath through his nose, he could stand it.  The workspace had all the charm of a mad scientist's den, complete with carefully labeled jars set along all the walls.  His attention immediately caught, Jonas stepped over towards the nearest shelf, squinting at the fleshy-looking mass suspended inside a glass container.  "Sorry to interrupt.  Don't mind a bit of a break in your routine, do you?"

Colin looked up as the door opened, his own face covered by a simple surgical mask. It'd been enchanted to help with the smell. What sat on the slab in front of him was causing it, with rather distressing gusto. If it had been a person, those days were long over. Now, it mostly resembled something that had been forgotten in the back of the fridge for seven years. In the desert.

It wobbled when he cut it.

He recognized Jonas. Colin was good with names, but worse with nicknames - that is, he gave them to people, like little labels in his mind. In his mind, therefore, Jonas was now Witty Auror. This contrasted him from Ed Pratt (Angry Auror) Adon (Sullen Auror) and Archer (Normal Auror).

Thankfully these labels were unlikely to be vocalized. This was doubly lucky, because the one he had for Bagnold wasn't exactly something to be said in polite company.

He waved, then held up one finger to tell Jonas to wait. Pulling up a white sheet, he covered the meat on the slab, and the smell cut down almost instantly. It was replaced with the chemical but much more neutral smell of embalming fluid, which wasn't exactly pleasant, but compared to the eye-watering smell of decomposition it was a scented candle.

"Hello," He said, pulling the mask up and making a face at the smell. He rested the switch of fabric on his forehead. There was a bump behind his desk and he glanced at it, worried; but, thankfully, the boxer dog hidden under his desk stayed there.

"Here on Bagnold's behalf, or am I genuinely in trouble?" He asked, with a slight smile.

The smell vanished much more suddenly than it had appeared, and Jonas sucked in a relieved breath of relatively fresh air. 

"The latter," he said cheerfully, shooting Downer a lopsided grin.  "Some bloke down the hallway complained about the stench, so now we're off to Azkaba--"

The sneeze came on quick enough that he nearly knocked an elbow into the shelf.  Grimacing, he rubbed at his nose; it was still itching.  Jonas gave a resigned sigh.  Apparently whatever Downer had been working on was potent enough that he could still feel it.

He held his position for a moment, making sure that he wasn't going to sneeze again, and then glanced up, flashing the younger man an apologetic smile.  "Naw, there's nothing wrong.  I just figured I'd stop in to see if you'd finished Chapter One," he said, reaching up with both hands to remove the nearest jar from the shelf.  "Thought it ended on a bit of a cliffhanger, I did.  Dunno how I'm going to manage to pace meself through this all.  The writing's just so intriguing."

Adon had been at least a beer or two in when he'd had the brilliant idea to suggest they refer to their makeshift group as a book club.  Less brilliant had been nominating Jonas to pick the novel they'd be "reading."  Since his knowledge of wizarding books was limited to the trashy magical romance novels that he'd stolen from Lexus when he'd gotten bored enough, it meant they were all stuck making up codes that referenced the Slither Girls.

"So this is the sort of thing you work on, yeah?" Jonas asked, regarding the jar curiously as he held it up to the light.  The object floating inside was clearly a brain, preserved in -- well, preserved in something; he had no idea what kind of potions that a wizard might employ for that sort of thing.  Frowning, he squinted at it, trying to ignore the fact that his eyes were starting to itch as well.  "Not really that unspeakable, is it?  I mean, anatomy professors probably collect these things by the droves."

Colin's face was blank for a moment. He'd been several more beers in when the idea came up, but after a few second's thought it clicked.

"Yeah," he said, glancing at the door. His lab wasn't monitored; not because they thought he was harmless, but because frankly no one really wanted to watch or hear what he did in here all day. And 90% of the time it involved humming while the room emitted distressing sawing or chopping sounds. Harmless, no; distressing but boring, yes.

Still, he smiled slightly. "Personally, I'm planning starting on Chapter 2 as soon as possible. Still not sure where it's going from the first chapter, though." His tone was perfectly casual.

There was another bump from his desk, and an annoying audible panting sound. He wandered over and sat at his chair, apparently ignoring it.

"Those I collect. That," he nodded to the distressing lump, "Is work. Ghosts, death, zombies, that kind of thing." His expression shifted for a moment. "How ghosts happen, why people turn into 'em, why some don't, that sort of thing. And a lot of other less pleasant things."

His smile shifted for a moment. "MacDuff got a kick out of that."

The second sneeze was just as sudden as the first.  Jonas nearly dropped the jar; hastily, he shoved it back onto the shelf and then rubbed unhappily at his nose. 

"Well, at least it's a hobby," he said, managing a weakly crooked smile as he straightened again.  "Can't imagine you get a lot of competition on the collecting front.  And I can imagine why the rest of it might be unspeakable."

The ghosts were nominally what he'd come here to ask about, and from a denizen of Level Nine, that was as good an opening as he was going to get to ask after his work.  Still, it was hard not to see something in Downer.  Jonas studied him silently for a moment, and then glanced across the room.  There was nowhere else obvious to sit, aside from the exam table, which was currently occupied by a more-gelatinous relative of the Blob.  Even if the mess on it hadn't been shudder-inducing, he knew better than to get that close to anything that he might be allergic to.

Sighing, he glanced behind him to find a wallspace free of jars, and then leaned back.  The least he could do was obviously settle in.  His eyes were still itching, and he could feel his nose starting to twitch again, but at least the sneeze was holding off for the moment. 

"Macduff doesn't strike me as a bloke with a very good sense of humor," he remarked, shifting to take the weight off his bad leg.  "Or much of a sense of self-preservation, to be honest with you.  Seems to be brilliant at reconnaissance, though," he remarked nonchalantly, regarding Colin with a frown.  "He knew plenty about me before I'd even had much of a run-in with him.  That part of it was bloody disconcerting."

Amazingly there weren't collector's expos for brain-collecting. Colin wished there were; he'd be there in an instant. Maybe there was a muggle one, but you'd probably need a degree in neuroscience to even get in the door. Being a private enthusiast was likely not looked on...well.

He sat back in his chair at the full mention of MaDuff, sighing. "A good sense of humor? No, not really," he said. "An odd one, oh yes. And a dark one."

Cocking his head to the side, he pressed his lips into a line, ignoring the dog licking his leg. "You're not a difficult man to shadow, I don't think. And he's hardly working alone. If he's actually allied with Tawse, in theory he's got ties with the rest of Tawse's group, and given what you've been up to..." He shrugged.

"And, well, again - you're not difficult to sniff out. None of us are, really. Besides, MacDuff enjoys throwing people out of their comfort zones, which was likely what he was after. He spent the first few minutes trying to scare me with the gory details of his kills." He shot a glace at the covered blob, and a passionless smile twitched his lips. "Didn't work, though he sure as hell scared me for other reasons."

Sitting back more, he set his feet up on his desk, crossed at the ankle. "But I'm sure you didn't come all this way just to get my opinion on the book, Trevelyan. What's on your mind?"