"We do get credit. A paycheck." She giggled. "It is kind of unfair. Anyway, I guess we have to wait and see for the conference. Maybe a banquet or something like that."

Jacob laughed. In a sad way, she had a point. Everyone in every aspect of life was recognized if you got paid. At least you existed. Whereas if you weren't paid, you were homeless or just ignored by the system.

"If you don't have anything to do, I can lend you a book or something," Jacob said, trying to be useful. "I mostly have law books and travel books, but I might be able to dig up an Agatha Christie or two."

"Agatha Christie. So optimistic and cheery." She laughed. "I have some books, but thank you. I also have to write my solo for my band."

In Jacob's opinion, Agatha was plenty optimistic and cheery. They always found the culprit, didn't they? That sounded like a happy ending to him. But, to each his own.

A band? Music wasn't really Jacob's thing, but it was still exciting to meet someone in a band. However...in a band and having a job? Now that was intriguing. How was she going to manage that if things ever got really busy here or the music took off?

"You're in a band?" Jacob asked. "That sounds like a fun job. What do you play and what's the name of the band?"

OOC: I've got some stuff to do, I'll try to be back later.

"It's not like a rock band. It's actually a classical, kind of like a symphony. We've made a couple of recordings though. And I play the uh...tuba." Addie looked down. When she told anybody that, they were suprised that a short skinny girl like herself played the tuba.She was actually very good, too.

"That sounds pretty cool," Jacob said politely. "How many people are in it?" Jacob knew nothing about classical music, save that there were usually many people in an orchestra.

"Tuba? That's interesting," Jacob muttered. He had never seen a tuba, and couldn't understand why Addie seemed embarrassed. He made a mental note to look the instrument up at home.

"Um....maybe like, 30? It's mostly woodwinds,though,like flutes and clarinets. I sing, too, but I like tuba better." Addie sat down in her chair, still in clear view of Jacob.

"Thirty people?" Jacob asked in wonder. "That sounds like an incredible amount." He watched Addie sit down, then looked at his cold Earl Grey. Undrinkable.

"Hey, listen, it's been great talking to you but I think I'm going to go see Ms. Bass and ask her about the Division head," Jacob said, finally decided. He opened his briefcase; it was seemingly bottomless and he removed a collection of books: three Agatha Christie's (Murder On The Orient Express, The Body In The Library, and They Do It With Mirrors), several international law books, a potions book, a spell book, and a complete collection of Sherlock Holmes. On second thought, he took They Do It With Mirrors and tucked it under one arm, taking up his tea mug in the same hand.

"Feel free to borrow a book, just return it when you're through. It was very nice talking to you Addie. I should be back in an hour or so, if you need any help with anything." On that final note, Jacob turned smoothly and walked out the door in the direction of Ms. Bass's office.

"Okay,bye."She watched Jacob leave and sat down at her desk. The books looked interesting, but her director woould be mad at her if she didn't finish the song by the next day. Since she had no other work to do, she worked on it.

A memo floated into the division offices:

Quote:

Everyone is to report to the Conference Room IMMEDIATELY. Thank you.

Sincerly,
Chad Stryker

Too many parchements. Too many ink bottles and quills. Now, why on Merlin's old beard and pants had he taken so many stuff to that meeting? Oh, yes. To be careful. Just in case someone had forgotten to bring their ink and parchment, he could lend them some. Such a gentleman, such a nice boy, his mother would probably said.

But--indeed, he had carried to many stuff to that conference room. Too many for him to carry, at least.

And. . . Badaboom, splat!

In a blink of one of his large chocolate brown eyes, the parchment had slipped from both of his hands, thus carrying the ink bottles with it. Both parchment and ink were now scattered all over the floor. A heavy sigh escaped from him. e was never going to carry more than he could. Never again. If someone forgot to bring their stuff, it wasn't really his problem. No, sir. Right.

With a casual flick of his wand, Nicholas vanished the dark ink spots on the carpet, that had of course came out of one of the ink bottles the moment it hit the ground. After that, Dwight bent down, and reached for the parchment and the now empty bottles, before opening the door of the division.

And boy, was the place empty!

No one was there. Where were all the employees of his division? Evaline had told him that there were at least half a dozen of them, and right now, he could see none. Perhaps they had not still arrived from the meeting? Hmm. That was rather possible, though if he was being honest with himself, Dwight could not recall had seen that amount of people back in the conferece room. Were they slackers? He could not tell at all. The man was still fairly new in the Ministry, after all.

In any case, he'd give them twenty minutes to get back, and honour him with their presence. They had a lot of stuff to plan and do. If they didn't get back soon, he was going to have a word with each and every one of them, of course. Like the former Hufflepuff he was, Nicholas was no slacker; he appreaciated hard work, and he did not expect less from the people that worked around him.

Shaking his head again, and sighing once more, the twenty six year old strolled to where his desk was, before plopping everything on top him.

Jacob spotted Nicholas Dwight, his new head of Division, just as the metal grille on the lift clanged shut. He rushed into the next lift with a crush of workers, but by the time he reached Level Five, only he was left.

Pushing through the door to his Division, Jacob noticed Mr. Dwight seated at his new desk, the one that had, in recent days, belonged to Ms. Murdoch. Jacob gulped a little, not sure how he'd like sitting in a dead woman's desk. Even though Ms. Murdoch would probably have shown up as a ghost before now if she had chosen to go that path, Jacob couldn't help but feel that her suspicious death may have inspired a haunting.

Slowly, Jacob approached the other man; no one else seemed to be around. Nicholas Dwight looked younger than Jacob's thirty, had much darker, curlier hair than Jacob's sandy waves, and a rich dark brown gaze very unlike Jacob's blue eyes. Despite his youth and soft appearance, Jacob reminded himself that there was a reason Ms. Bass had chosen Dwight for this job.

"Hello," Jacob said pleasantly. "My name's Jacob Webster." He held out a hand for the younger man to shake, but the gesture was somehow informal and very friendly. "I can't wait to be working with you on this project that we have."

Fingers drumming against the dark and hard desk absentmindedly while his other hand rested on his lap, Nicholas had almost forgotten that he was still at work. The place was just so empty. He had not been expecting this, to be honest. It would have been perfectly fine to find himself alone there, if it wasn't because they had a lot of work to do.

And the place was so delightfully quiet. Almost peaceful.

His eyelids started to close slowly. One fraction of second before his large chocolate eyes close entirely, the door of the division opened, making him jump a little on his seat. He had been really close to falling asleep, and now there was someone else there, too. Hopefully, the person had not seen this.

Dwight shook his head trying to forget the fact that he was feeling tad sleepy.

Standing up once he noticed another man walking towards his desk, Nicholas smooth his dark, almost black robes before shaking his hand briefly. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Webster", replied Nicholas kindly with a nod and a polite half smile. First impressions were always important, on Nicholas' opinion.

The twenty six year old appraised the man for a split of second. Something about the way he spoke, and somehow the way the man looked, made Nicholas think that the male standing in front of him was older than him. Not this mattered to him, or anything. "I'm glad you are. This is most definitely going to be an interesting, though not exactly easy task", his voice just a second ago friendly, had now taken a serious and formal tone, that was not very characteristic of him. "I must say, though", he began dropping his voice a little bit, eyebrows pulling together slightly, "Unlike yourself, I don't think your co-workers are exactly looking forward to work on this project". His expression, was now matching the same serious tone of voice Nicholas now using. Brown eyes darted around the empty division before sighing quietly.

Dora rushed to her office. It was quite frustrating, because she had never been late at work before. As it was, she hoped she wouldn't be sanctioned.

The division she worked in was pretty quiet, except for two men talking. As she went closer, Dora noticed that one of them was the new division Head, Mr Dwight.
"Hello, gentlemen!" Dora greeted and nodded her head. She had heard the last words of their conversation, regarding the new project.
"I'm also looking forward to taking part in it." she said quickly.
Then she realised she had forgotten to introduce herself.
"Sorry for starting like that...My name is Dora Mackenzie."

Jacob released Mr. Dwight's hand, smiling. I think I'm going to like this man, Jacob thought happily. From personal expierience, having coworkers that you got along with made a long work day that much easier. However, Mr. Dwight's voice when he mentioned the project made Jacob nervous. He pushed a slightly annoying strand of hair behind an ear; it had been tickling the corner of his eye.

Not wanting to insult the work ethics of the other members of this Division (all though Mr. Dwight had a very good point), Jacob was thankfully saved from thinking up an answer when a kin-looking woman, looking slightly flustered, nearly sprinted in. Jacob listened politely as she spoke; she was obviously addressing Mr. Dwight. Dora Mackenzie...Jacob stored her name in a corner of his mind for future reference.

Rico strolled into the British Seats Division, hovering his boxes of office supplies in front of him. He smiled at the few cubicles he passed, recognizing a few faces from the breakroom but not enough, sadly.

He unlocked Nick's empty office with a tap of his wand and hovered the boxes in, swishing his wand once and letting them fall with a sold THUD onto the desk. A cloud of dust swoooshed up and Rico coughed. "Ugh. Gotta clean this place up." He shook his head and then went back to the door, attaching his nameplate with a click. Then he unrolled a bit of parchment from his pocket and attached that too.

Quote:

Attention all International Cooperation: British Seats Employees!

Your former division head, Nicholas Dwight, has resigned from his position and transferred to a different ministry. I will be taking over for him, and most of you have already received assignments regarding the upcoming conference via memo from me.

If you have any questions or finish a job early, feel free to stop by and see me! I'll just be getting settled in here.

-Rico

There. That would work for now. Rico smiled a little and dusted his hands off before heading back into his small office. He had a heck of a lot of cleaning to do and sadly enough, household charms were his weakness.

Evaline went inside the next division and put her voice on loud speaker. "Everyone please start making your way to Level 10 for the Opening Ceremonies please. I hope to see you there."

Evaline went into each division and posted the new memo she just got.



ooc: I thought it would be bigger. To actually read it, see my department head office.

Enrico sighed as he heard the door to his division open and then shut. He got up from his swirly chair and strolled out to the memo board, certain that he'd heard something over there.

And sure enough, Evaline had left them a little note. "Fantastic," he muttered sarcastically as he read the parchment. "I knew something like this was going to happen - it's just a mess here, just a mess." He shook his head and then strolled back to his desk to grab his jacket. There were going to have a lot of cleanup to do after the fiasco of the French Minister's death, and he needed a cup of coffee before getting to work.

Jacob finished his sip of Earl Grey and put the mug back on his desk before strolling over to the notice. He read it, a lump forming in his throat. Not good, not good at all. His being absent for such a period of time had affected his connection to the International wizarding world, and this was one thing he hadn't quite accepted the effects of. Magical illnesses could be so annoying, and so unwilling to be cured.

Quickly, his hands clamming up and cold sweat forming on his face, Jacob slipped back to his desk. Feeling under the pile of newspapers dating from two weeks ago (his current homework - catch up on International affairs) he found his notepad and spare writing materials. Jacob hated messes, but the one on his desk would not be cleaned up until the current fiasco was settled.

Jacob decided to make a quick stop at his cubicle before making his way for a cup of tea at the Leaky Cauldron. He gathered his Muggle notebook, the one he used when he needed to organize his thoughts. Although Muggles weren't generally of interest to him, his neice had sent him this after she attended a Muggle Studies field trip to a mall. Selecting a new bottle of ink - the meeting had nearly dried up his current bottle - Jacob made a mental note to bring more ink in from home.

After tucking his parchments of notes within the notebook so as not to lose them, Jacob noticed a new employee working in a previously unocupied cubicle. "Hello," Jacob said, holding out his hand for the other man to shake, "My name is Jacob Webster. I haven't seen you before, is this your first day?" It was a detour, but only a slight one, and one that Jacob felt he could afford to make.

OOC: Is your Ministry characters name "Set" or "Representative"? I've seen you posting as both and I'm a little confused, especially because you school character seems to have the exact same name.

After that rather distressing meeting, Rico had to go clean out his desk. He sighed and marched into his little personal office and settled down into his swirly chair, swiveling around a few times before deciding there was nothing else to it.

Rico sat up and started piling papers and books and objects into a few boxes. Sigh. There was dust on a few things and he never did open that one book about Parry Hotter or whatever his name was.

But soon enough, his office was all cleaned out and it was time to go for real. Rico stood up and removed his name plate from the door lastly, before shutting off the lights and hovering his office boxes out in front of him.

He dropped the boxes on the floor, just now remembering something, and pinned a notice to the board in the office.

Quote:

Attention International Cooperation Division:

I am resigning as your Division Head today since I've accepted a position at the Daily Prophet. I wish you all the best - you've been great employees and I've enjoyed working with you all. Also, thanks to the Trading Body Division too; we worked hard.

Be nice to your new boss and I'll see you around Diagon Alley.

All the best,
Rico Serio

That was done. All that remained was to actually leave.

"Well, bye," Rico muttered to whoever was around - Jacob and that new guy. He nodded to them both and then pointed his wand at the boxes once again, hovering them out in front of them as he headed to his new job.

"It's very nice to meet you, Representative Avis." Boy, that was a mouthful, but he might as well get used to saying it if the man was in his Division. "I've been here for a little over half a year, myself. Around eight months."

Jacob frowned as the man asked what he did. There wasn't a specific description of what they did; rather, they did what was needed. "I'm just about to start on that new assignment Ms. Bass gave our division," Jacob replied, gesturing to the objects he held. "I don't have any ideas just yet."


Jacob watched with curiosity as Rico came in and started packing up his office. When the notice flew by him, Jacob caught it with a Summons, read it, and sent it to it's spot on the board. Mixed emotions ran through him - sadness, regret, and a hope...there was a spot open.

"It was great working with you, Rico," Jacob said. "Good luck at the Prophet - I'll have to start buying it now."

Once Rico left, a sense of the permanence of that moment reached Jacob. He sighed heavily. That was the third Division head he'd met and lost.

Jacob turned back to Representative Avis. "I'm going to head down to the Cauldron for some tea and to think over my assignment. That meeting was quite trying. I'll see you around." Jacob left the room with a wave.

Although he was nearly halfway to the lifts, and determined to put off his assignment no longer, Jacob turned back to Representative Avis.

“I’ll consider applying,” he said simply, giving no real emotion. “The only leadership position I’ve ever had was in a pawnshop, so I think I’ll talk to my brother and ask his opinion.”

Jacob reached the lifts just as an empty one rattled into place. The way down was slow and quiet, except for the announcer’s voice, giving Jacob ample time to think. If he were to talk to Jonathan, he realized that a trip by Floo would be necessary tonight. Apparating between countries was a frightening plan in Jacob’s opinion – there were way too many things to bump into.

A slight headache was invading his normally calm brain. Earl Grey was needed immediately.


OOC: Is Set giving Jacob a “derisive smile”? Because Jacob didn’t smile in my last post.
Not a problem.

Jacob returned to his cubicle with a Muggle notebook page full of ideas under one arm, his customary mug of Earl Grey in one hand, a book of French in the other, the taste of blueberry muffin in his mouth, and Miley’s words repeating in his ears. Something about her voice was just so captivating, although Jacob refused to admit it to himself. Miley’s voice caught in his mind like spiderwebs. Not drab and dusty cobwebs such as you might find under a stair, but crisp and clear-spun miracles hung with dew drops that brought diamonds to mind.

He took a sip of tea to clear his head and settled in his seat. Bringing out his best writing supplies, Jacob arranged his notes and ideas off to one side, placing the French book tauntingly in the corner. Though his hands itched to open it and start learning, Jacob instead took up his best parchment, finest quill, and blackest ink.

The quill was tall and imposing, black or blue or purple or red depending on the light, and often a mix of several colors. Jacob hoped it would somehow help him write this report. Why had he agreed to write this on behalf of the Division, again?

It took Jacob five minutes of thinking before he dipped the quill in the black-hole ink; five times he scratched out what he had written before satisfied with the introduction. If Ms. Bass wasn’t convinced to take any of their ideas, then the chances of France accepting them were next to nothing.

It went on like this for some time, with Jacob writing and scratching out and referring to notes and glancing over his ideas and the ideas of other Division members. After about an hour, Jacob felt he had a passable report. He rewrote it on a new piece of parchment, tapped it with his wand and sent the little paper plane to Ms. Bass’s office.

With an almost weary sigh, Jacob sat back in his chair with his tea (still hot – he had finally decided to spell it to stay that way) and took his second sip from that mug-full. Holding his French book open with one hand and his tea in the other, Jacob put his feet up on the top of his desk, pushed his leg-less chair into a reclining position, and proceeded to teach himself French.