(Plotting thread here, and the original Mixer thread is here.  Anyone is welcome to post in!  Please read the first post for the description of what the Auror Office currently looks like.  )

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Jonas had, for all intents and purposes, been away for almost a week.  The recent chaos of casework and attacks had meant that he'd accumulated plenty of overtime that he hadn't been able to take, even as he and the others had worked themselves to near exhaustion. But with Dugan Macduff off the streets, things were finally winding down. Their cases had slowed down enough that Adon could hold down the fort without him at work -- which had been a blessed relief, since his sister's death the previous weekend had necessitated a long trip home to Truro and Penzance. 

 Cashing in on his comp time and taking a few days off had felt long overdue once he'd finally gotten away.  Even with the sudden strain of his family life, Jonas had to admit that it had been good to spend time away from the stress of the office.  Best of all, though, was the fact that his absence meant that -- as far as anyone around him was concerned -- Jonas had absolutely no idea who had taken it upon themselves to decorate the Auror Office for the Ministry Mixer. 

Well, decorate might have been the wrong word -- the masterpiece that had become Magical Law Enforcement went beyond simple decorations.  Somehow, between the end of the work day and the commencement of the Ministry Mixer, some anonymous figure had taken it upon themselves to capture the true spirit of Level Two.  The entire floor had been enchanted to look like the Old American West.  Dust blew through the corridors, green and prickly cacti had taken over most of the open hallways, and Jonas could have sworn that he saw a tumbleweed blow by when he stepped off the lift.  Despite what had surely been repeated calls to Magical Maintenance, a haunting, dramatic theme song still sounded throughout the floor.

Each of the offices had been transfigured to look like a different building in an Old West town.  Rosier's had been cleverly transformed into the Town Bank; the Hitwizards' headquarters had conveniently become a saloon, which Jonas had immediately stopped into in order to grab his first couple of drinks.  (After all, Dreogan Eleor's bachelor party was taking place later that evening, and work event or not, he had absolutely no intent of showing up to the start of it still sober.)  The Auror Office, fittingly, had been transformed into a jail straight out of Jonas's favorite spaghetti westerns, complete with creaky floorboards, wanted posters decorating the walls, and a giant sign that read SHERIFF that had been plastered over the door to Tamis Raynor's private demesnes.

"Yeah, I dunno, Arch," he agreed cheerfully, flashing Archer Radley a crooked grin as he stepped closer to examine one of the pictures hanging on the wall.  Adon Eleor's Witch Weekly-eulogized eyes gazed mournfully back at him, threatening to penetrate to the very depths of his soul.  "It seems like some of your brother's spell work, but how would he even get onto Level Two?  You reckon we could really have got another traitor in our midst?"

Feeling far too pleased with himself, he sipped at his wine -- either his third or fourth glass, but Jonas wasn't counting -- and moved on to examine the next wanted poster.  Radley himself.  Epic. 

"You really don't owl your mum, mate?" he asked analytically, glancing back at Archer.  Behind him, the sound of footsteps signaled that someone was approaching the swinging doors that led into the Auror Headquarters. Jonas turned quickly enough that he nearly spilled his drink, hoping to catch sight of the new arrival's reaction.  "You know," he added to Archer over his shoulder, grinning from ear to ear, "I bet if you kept in touch, you'd be a lot more satisfied as an individual.  Happier, even.  A good relationship with one's family goes a long way to ensuring personal enlightenment."

Brett had found the beginning of the mixer to be... well... boring. She didn't know many people, and the one person who had been talking to her hadn't been that interesting to talk to. Fauna had quickly started to converse and she hadn't seen the twins. Almost everyone was some old, stuffy, fuddy-duddy. But since this was an open house mixer, she had excused herself from the main party to go take a peek at what would soon be her new digs on Level Two.

Coming out of the lift and into the hallway she cocked her head, ears perking at the sound of... some kind of music? She supposed it was music, even if it certainly wasn't the kind she would have picked to play at a party.

Brett poked her head into the auror office and blinked, noticing the distinct... change in scenery and motif. She coughed as a whirlwind of dust went by her, and one of the wanted posters caught her eye. She stepped toward it, a slight grin as she noticed it was Eddie Pratt (the auror whose bum had been topic of many of her conversations with Fauna this summer). "Smuggling puffskeins in his trousers?" she asked aloud. Was that euphemism? Had she just learned way more about Eddie Pratt than she ever wanted to know? (Unless she was learning it from experience, of course.)

"Blimey, what am I getting myself into?" she asked quietly, reading another of the wanted posters plastered on the wall.

"I could probably tell you," a voice ventured from Brett's right, "If you're just dying for spoilers, anyway."

While her attention was focused on the posters, Rémy Sharp had stepped up beside her, noticing an unfamiliar face on Level Two and assuming that potential recruits were trickling down from the floor above. He was in uniform tonight, a rare occasion, the silver buttons on his crimson coat gleaming and his dress boots tapping lightly on the marble floor. Having just barely extricated himself from the newly founded "saloon," where he had been swindled into helping make preparations for the festivities, he'd dragged himself out into the main room for some relatively fresh air, where he'd spotted the newcomer and sidled over to try his hand at greeting the young lady. Taking a gander at the way she presented herself, however, he came to the conclusion she might not appreciate the term young lady any more than he would appreciate the term diminutive coffee slave.

He folded his hands behind his back and examined the posters on the walls alongside her, vaguely recognizing most of the faces on them,whistling to the dramatic tune in the air until he decided he'd had enough of that and added onto his previous statement. "That is, if you really want to know what you're getting yourself into, it starts with two years of grueling lessons at the Academy not unlike the ones you probably just left at Hogwarts. By the third year, you might be ready to test the skills you've learned, but you'll probably end up the community coffee waiter for all the older Aurors, at least until somebody decides to let you out on the field, if they decide to let you out on the field." He numbered off the stages on his fingers even as he explained them, following a map in his head he'd examined a few too many times to be healthy. "Provided you make it past the third year and graduate training, you'll probably face mortal peril chasing Dark Wizards and be in and out of St. Mungo's for the rest of your life, which might not be very long given Aurors' lives have a tendency to end prematurely and without warning. If you're lucky, you might live long enough to be forced into retirement by some irreperable injury or old age, but that's another big if in the series of uncertainties that will become your entire life hereafter."

It was at that point he noticed his hands had got loose while he talked; he glared at them reproachfully and clasped them tightly behind his back again, willing them to stop flinging themselves around like a couple of hooligans. "It's also one of the best jobs in the world, in my opinion," he declared emphatically, and added after a moment's thought, "Eventually." Then, with an awkward cough, "Any questions?"

Tarelin had moved through the hustle and bustle of the Ministry Mixer with some haste, stopping occasionally to give a quick hello to the employees he had come to recognise over his time training with the Aurors. Knowing that he would feel more at home in the MLE offices, Tarelin darted into a nearly-closing lift, squeezing in between someone he guessed was a shaggy-haired Hogwarts graduate and someone's excited parents who had become separated from their offspring. The parents got off at the next floor, only for a half-dozen more people to force their way into the lift, and Tarelin pried himself free once they reached the Second Floor, alongside one or two others.

Holding the Auror office door open to let a trio of eager 10-year-olds rush past, followed quickly by a shouting mother and an embarrassed looking older sister, Tarelin was about to step in himself when a tumbleweed rolled out in front of him, forcing him to take a step back and raise an eyebrow in confusion. Careful to not be caught by surprise again, Tarelin tentatively eased his way into the Auror office.

The decorations strewn about the office suddenly put the tumbleweed into perspective for the trainee. He had heard so many different rumours of what the department would look lie, but a western theme had somehow fallen under his radar. Grinning, he took a few steps into the room, chuckling as he glanced to the left and noticed the wanted poster for Rosier: he wondered if the department head knew about it. Spying Auror Trevelyan across the office, Tarelin gave him his best casual cowboy salute and a thumbs up, trying to indicate that he approved of the decor. He also made a mental note to ask if there were any hats around. Every good cowboy setting needed hats...

Sam was examining the wanted posters put up by some prankster of an Auror. Honestly, where did they find the time to do stuff like this? "Auror Trainee Sharp, do try not to scare off the new trainees before they even finish their first shift" Sam said, his tone making clear he was mostly joking, though there was an undertone of warning too. It wouldn't do to scare off some of the more timid trainees just yet. "Seriously, though, Trainee Abraham, being an Auror is a dangerous career. However, it can be one of the most rewarding, too. The decorations today were by one of the pranksters we have around here, by the way." Sam said to the new trainee that had come in. He also wondered how Department Head Rosier would react to the decorations.

With the whole mess of Dugan MacDuff out of the way things were starting to go back to normal, at least as normal as things ever were in the Auror Corps. For Berkeley the last few days had her glued to her desk filling out mountains of paperwork. She wasn't complaining though, the work needed to get done and as per usual she was the best person to get it done. The only complaint had come earlier in the evening when she had been removed from her office so the place could be prepared for the Ministry Mixer. She initially had no intention of attending said shindig but with the thought of someone tampering with her perfectly parallel desk she couldn't help herself.

The instant Berkeley stepped one tiny perfectly polished shoe out of the lift and into Level Two a scowl was plastered on her porcelain face. The place was a mess and while the symbolism wasn't lost on her she wasn't exactly happy about the dust, dry air and tumbleweeds floating about. As she walked by the many plastered wanted posters she had an idea of who was behind all of this, especially when she had found one wanted poster in particular, She smirked ever so slightly, "Cute."

Berkeley crossed the room to come up beside the red haired menace himself, "Was this all your idea or do we have someone else to blame for such brilliance?"

Archer couldn’t say he hated the change in scenery.  It fit to some degree, and what he had been exposed to of Muggle Western type things, well, they were the closest the wizarding world had to such a thing.  Not to mention there was a saloon involved.  He was especially fond of Adon’s wanted poster, though notably, Jonas’ was not there – the ginger did not have anything.  Neither did Bailey.  Suspicious.  Couldn’t he have been wanted for something? 

Frowning to some degree, Archer had his glass in his hand with some non-descript alcohol as well, since, like Jonas, he was not going to be leaving this thing without a healthy buzz – particularly having to spend the rest of the night with people like Rosier, Bailey, and anyone else in the department he didn’t like – not to mention all of the trainees.  Outside of Eyes, he wasn’t sure what to think of them, so he stood next to Jonas, stoic as ever, sipping on his drink.

“The boa is a nice touch,” he commented dryly, wondering who had donated the photo probably taken during an outing with Winnie, or just magicked in for the hell of it.  Either was entirely plausible. But he didn’t really think much of it, particularly as people started to come in – and only regretted very briefly that he didn’t know about this because at least then he could have found a hat.  He already had the badge and boots – it seemed only right that a hat was in order. 

“He couldn’t have done this by himself,” Archer smirked at Cavanaugh’s question.   “Fool couldn’t come up with half of this,” he motioned around, “though kudos to you for giving him credit.”    He took another swig, it was going to be a long evening.

He'd always known that he liked Faust.  Jonas flashed the trainee a nonchalant grin, and then attempted to return to his previous expression, which was perplexed, mildly amused, and quite unable to hide the fact that he found the photograph of Archer Radley in a feather boa the second funniest thing in the room at the moment. 

"Was this all your idea or do we have someone else to blame for such brilliance?"

"What?" he asked, his forehead creasing as he glanced up at the interruption.  He regarded her perplexedly for a moment, and then gave an easy shrug.  "Naw, I've been out of town, Auror Cavanaugh.  Just got back today," he offered, taking a too quick sip of his wine.  "Wouldn't've had time to put something like this together."

Jonas patiently kept his mouth shut as Radley gave his treatise on why his former partner could possibly have pulled off a prank like this, using the short lecture to take another sip of his drink -- although one much slower than the last.  He was going to have to watch himself if he was going to make it all the way through the evening and still be able to stand upright.  After the disaster that had been the last time he'd gone drinking with more than one Auror, Jonas knew he didn't want to wake up on one of his coworker's floors somewhere. 

Well, actually... --  Jonas frowned, the furrows in his forehead deepening as he tried to determine if there had ever been a time when he'd gone out for drinks with a colleague that hadn't involved a disaster.  The Santa suit incident when he'd first met Adon, getting cornered by Dugan when he'd been out with Pratt... There had been the excursion to Dublin that he'd recently treated his partner to, but even if that didn't necessarily count as a disaster, getting kicked out of an interactive exhibit on a Muggle crime drama probably didn't qualify as a quiet night.

"Yeah, it's a proper mystery, innit?" he asked, visibly rejoining the conversation as he flashed Cavanaugh and Radley a grin.  He nodded to Faust across the room to invite him over; the kid was due to be an Auror soon anyhow, so he might as well start holding his own in the banter.  "Reckon we'll have to assign someone to the case.  Start assigning watches round the office, weigh everybody's wand, check for fingerprints, the whole nine yards, yeah?" 

"Personally," he added, attempting to lower his voice conspiratorially so that only those near him could overhear, "me money's on Harcroft."  The wicked grin threatened to split his face.  "You see the one that got posted about Rosier?  Poor bloke's probably been put out that our new boss is so out of uniform.  Reckon this whole thing is just a drawn-out commentary on his non-regulation fashion sense."

Brett blinked at the auror who had decided to list all of the horribe things about being an auror. "I'm not fool enough to think it's a glamorous job," she said to Remy. "I wanted to be an auror since I was a kid, and I've been working hard ever since. You'd have to be right stupid to join the auror force and think it's going to be easy." She smiled at him, to show she wasn't angry. "I think I can handle it. I'm tougher than I look!"

She also snorted when one of the older aurors came along, telling the other- apparently another trainee named Sharp- not to scare her off. "Takes more than a scary story to scare me off," she said proudly to Harcroft. She wasn't sure of his name, though. She hadn't yet met most of the aurors apart from the ones who came to career day. Brett assumed he had to have known her name from her application to join the force. "And I know it's dangerous," Brett added seriously. "But I knew the risks when I signed up for training."

"So pranks like this are normal then?" she asked. From what she could see, none of the aurors were really surprised to see their office turned into a Western. Brett couldn't imagine coming into work and everything being so drastically altered and not being phased by it. Maybe working on the auror force wasn't going to be so awful and awkward after all.

"Good that you wont be scared off by scary stories." Sam said, " You know the risks? I hope so." Sam said, his eyes suddenly looking haunted at the brief reminder of co-workers that died over the years. Shuddering briefly, he heard her question "Yeah,pranks are normal around here. Long as they don't mess with cases or cause someone permanent harm, they're tolerated. Although sometimes we do wonder how they found the time for big ones." Sam said, he was glad to see that she had said she didn't think the job would be glamorous. the Aurors as a body commanded respect, but individual Aurors? Rarely.

Rem jumped at the sound of Harcroft's voice, startled by the way the man seemed to just appear out of nowhere. Then again, he'd had his far share of sneaking up on people, so he couldn't really say anything on that matter. Luckily Harcroft seemed to be mostly congenial about the matter, and the new trainee smiled at him, so they weren't too angry with his little narrative.

"Regardless of how I make it sound, I promise, I've dreamed of doing this since I was a kid too," he told her with a lighthearted chuckle. This was followed by an awkward pause, his thoughts straying for a moment, but he quickly focused himself back on the conversation at hand, not giving himself the chance to dwell on it for too long.

He cast a sidelong glance at Harcroft, quirking an eyebrow skeptically. The older Auror was probably making an understatement on the frequency of pranks on Level 2. He turned his attention back to "Trainee Abraham," as Harcroft had called her, explaining, "I haven't been here too long, but I've a pretty good guess that pranks are more than just normal; they're practically a rite of passage, as far as I can tell. Plus, there's almost as much paperwork in this job as there is danger, and spending all day in the office gets boring as hell. Might as well do something constructive with your time."

The Ministry Mixer…Rosier was not happy about this, especially not about the “decorations”. In fact, the Head of the Department of Magical Law enforcement was furious; he couldn’t bear how his office was practically made into a circus. His office was a sanctuary, basically the only place where he felt at peace at this point in his life. It took a certain amount of time for him to get used to it - it was a lavish, but grim place, however Rosier wouldn’t trade it for anything now. It just somehow felt right. And now people were desecrating it.

He was impeccably dressed, as always - in formal black robes, not too elegant, just about right. And of course perfectly tailored, thanks to his dear friend Darian Morgan. He also looked slightly better than during the last two weeks - the wound was healing nicely, some of the Ministry problems were successfully sorted out…it all meant Cameron Rosier finally had some sleep. He was very glad he didn’t resemble an old, sad and grumpy man any longer. He was “the boss” once again. But he couldn’t bring himself to smile or form any kind of a pleasant expression. This “mixer” was a travesty.

He lingered in some corner ominously, inspecting the people who looked too keen and despicably cheerful. All those disgustingly keen Auror trainees…Rosier wanted to vomit. Truth be told, maybe that should be blamed on his slight hangover. Suddenly he felt old and out of place. He  also had work to do and this was a huge waste of his time…which he didn’t have! But he needed to show his face here, he needed to pretend he was glad this was happening. If only he could be in a better mood - maybe all those people who called him a grumpy old sod weren’t so wrong after all.

Rosier checked his watch and rolled his eyes. Spotting Trevelyan nearby just because it seemed like the ginger just said his name, Rosier casually strolled towards his colleague, grabbing a random drink on his way. “Radley, Trevelyan…” he greeted the men with a small smirk, taking a sip of what seemed to be some heinous vodka cocktail. “Enjoying the…party, are we?”  He downed his drink.

For the first time in the history of his career Edward Pratt was not responsible for the chaotic new atmosphere that engulfed level 2. Since the takedown of Dugan Macduff, excepting the regular drinking sessions with co-workers and friends, Edward Pratt had been a model auror. Every piece of overdue paperwork, every last report had been meticulously filled in, proof read and handed in. He had originally thought that vanishing to a warm, sunny island with his kids and hiding away for a week of relaxation and family time would have been his first move after their hollow success.

That hadn’t been so simple however. With his impromptu week off originally referred to as ‘resignation’ now thought of as ‘holiday’ by an overpaid boss in veela piss aftershave and the piles of incomplete reports and unanswered letters on his desk, Eddie had conceded defeat and put quill to parchment. Surprisingly he actually felt better for this. It was a reminder things could get back to whatever form normality took within his complicated life.

The music had nothing to do with him, the tumbleweed rolling into the backs of his legs hadn’t been charmed by him and the posters most certainly had not been his idea. Pratt had undoubtedly never been that close to a puffskein, even if his daughter had often tried to smuggle hers into his bed. Fortunately, Eddie had known about the transformation, however. He had insisted to Jonas (a quiet whisper in the redhead’s ear) about the need for a country saloon and he had put in a request for wenches in those flapper skirts and skimpy blouses. Unfortunately only one of these suggestions had been taken into account.

And what was a western without a cowboy? There was a very obvious reason why Eddie hadn’t shown his face in the atrium earlier that evening. Edward had stolen the hat from his son, he’d stolen the spurs on the back of his boots from his son and he’d stolen the toy pistols from his son. The shirt, the jeans and the holster were his and what he’d been wearing all day.

Drink in one hand, toy pistol spinning around the fingers of the other, Eddie put best boot forward and made his way towards the gathering of aurors and his boss. Having reached them he placed the pistol in the holster and instead picked up a strand of straw from a nearby desk and put it between his teeth.
“Always knew I’d make a damn excellent cowboy, lads.”

Fauna wasn't sure what she'd expected when she'd finally mustered up the courage to take the lift down to Level Two. Perhaps elegant decorations, nicely dressed visitors, and trays of food. But the music, a familiar western tune that she couldn't quite place but knew was muggle, reached her first. She paused, and continued forward, past the cacti and dust, and towards the open doors of the Auror office. A hesitant, nervous smile flickered across her face.

She'd spent the past hour or so attempting to socialize in the Atrium, avoiding spilled drinks, and smiling so much her face hurt. The other Auror trainee she'd met, Eha, had seemed pleasant, though more poised and comfortable than Fauna was in this new environment.

When Fauna walked into the Auror office, she stopped and stared, and suddenly felt out of place in her sensible flat shoes and blue cocktail dress. This was definitely more her style, though. Having led the art club at Hogwarts, she had to admire all the work that went into the jail, the saloon buildings, the signs, and those posters!

Her smile turned into a genuine, slightly bewildered grin. Since she didn't see any other trainees there yet, she sidled up next to Brett. She knew a few of the Aurors already, but it would take her a minute or two to actually say hello.

"This is hilarious. I want one of those hats," she told her, glancing at Pratt dressed up as a cowboy.

Brett was kind of glad to know that pranks were normal. She'd always thought she might have trouble fitting in if all of the aurors were stuffy and self important. She was still young and wanted to enjoy life. Sure, it was going to be hard work- but you had to learn to balance work and play. It seemed they might have figured that one out.

The other auror said that he'd dreamt of being an auror since he was a kid, too. Brett beamed at him- glad to know she wasn't alone on that one. "I think it's a good dream to have," she said to Remy. "I can't imagine what I'll end up doing if I don't make it through. I don't know what else I'd want to do with my life." But in Brett's mind there wasn't much reason to worry about it. She wanted, and if she wanted it, she'd do it. Brett was determined and was going to bust her ass to make sure that this worked out.

Her attention diverted when she saw Auror Pratt come in, dressed the part of a cowboy. She grinned, and her grin cracked wide open when Fauna sidled up and said she wanted one of the hats. Brett giggled and leaned in close, whispering so only Fauna could hear. "You can have the hat, I'll take what's under it." Brett gave Auror Pratt a quick once over, noticing how nicely the jeans fit. She whispered again, "All he needs are leather chaps." Brett giggled again, and snaked her arm through Fauna's.

"Perhaps we could go ask one of the other aurors whether or not they're handing out cowboy and cowgirl hats?" Brett suggested. "Or see whether or not they might know a spell to transfigure something into one?"