"Ms. Howard." Jane's name was lost in the loud music before it came to an end with a gentle pop and hiss of static when Damian turned a knob to switch off the radio.
She was the type of witch you could set a watch to. On the other hand, you would have to tell Damian a nine o'clock meeting was at eight thirty in the hopes that he would get there by a quarter after. Jane's tardiness did not go unnoticed, but he didn't think it'd be wise to acknowledge it.
"How are ya, Jane? Did you sleep well? Did you eat?" Leaning in with his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, the wizard looked over his fellow unspeakable along with the notes and equipment she brought. She looked prepared, but was she really? Damian was never shy about his professional and personal concern. With just his wand and his wits, he seemed ill prepared for the task ahead, but the often-melancholy mortemist was radiating confidence.
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In over his head |