Emily wasn't impressed to say the least. Firstly... she didn't give anyone, let alone a 'Willow Garrick' permission to write about her, or look at her records, or release her name and occupation to the public. What was wrong with these people?! Have they not heard of privacy? ... No of course not, they were journo's. If all of that hadn't been enough, the icing on the cake was one of her pet peeves. Her surname was not a bland, boring, drab, unflattering colour... no, it's was better than BROWN... it was BROWNE!.. Willow Ga--Garret? Gratin?... or whatever HER name was, deserved a hexing.
Interrupting her morning routine of run, breakfast, paper, shower, target practice, work... she changed for work and marched her way the the Prophet HQ... she was more than happy to conduct her target practice here.
Receptionist person thing looked far too cheerful to be human, sickly...
"Get me the manager of the establishment, or a Willow Grettick..." Emily commanded. Her name had an E... it wasn't potion science. She stood. No point sitting, they ought not to be flat-footed when dealing with disgruntled readers.