Resisting on the urge to ask the man why else he would knock on his door if he wasn't a employee in the Quidditch division, RJ's took a couple of second before entering in the office. This sure wouldn't help him if he start arguing with the man. "Yes sir I am..."

It was only when he was in Skander's office that he noticed that the man was busy with a letter. "I was under the impression that I needed to report to you a.s.a.p..." Absolutely disregarding the fact to mention the little lost incident which result on him been late, he had a feeling that this would come back to him but he wasn't going to say a word about that. He was going to face the consequence, if they were any to face, but rather to face any wrath than admit he needed a guide in here.

Oooh, compliments. Good.

"Of course, sir, I'll get right on to it," Dessie said, and tried to not make a face as he told her to pass it on to this Rachel person. Co worker. Yes, her. Shooting the Rachel a small smile, she tried to take what her boss had said in a different way - Rachel wasn't correcting her report, merely ADDING to it.

So it's not undermining her work at all. Ok. Dessie pulled her focus back as bossman addressed them again, telling them that the information was sensitive. Nodding at the dismissal, Dessie hurried back to her desk where she arranged her sources and data in front of her in an orderly fashion.

This job was so easy after her previous one. She'd been all worried that she wouldn't succeed, but Dessie had a feeling she'd do well.

Picking up her quill, she wrote a suitable title and began listing the references when she saw Ryan, or RJ, go into bossman's office. Good luck in there, she thought silently as she mentally shook away all irrelevant thoughts at this time. Reports had to be detailed, and she didn't want to miss a thing.

Reading it over, Dessie smiled in pride. It might not be written in the best way possible, but the info was there as was her name. She had always been told to put in the name as often as possible without going crazy since if it's a good report, you'll definitely stick in the bossman's mind. If it's a bad report... Well, try and make it better.

Attaching the articles in case the bossman, Beckett or Vindictus, wanted to see for himself, Dessie got up and walked over to Mr. Beckett's office and knocked. She had no idea how long it had taken her, but she assumed that it could not have been more than five minutes. She'd been writing up these things for almost... Bleh. It was too long to even think of.

Dessie waited patiently outside as Bossman Beckett as he talked to Ryan, and when he called her was halfway through the door before she remembered that she had to hand the report to Rachel before giving it to Beckett.

Oh, man. And now, if she admitted that, she'd look like an idiot who just liked wasting her boss's time. Almost as big an idiot as the topic of her report... And MacKenzie was one bit idiot. "Er, sir, I was wondering if maybe there was something specific you wanted me to include in the report before I give it to Rachel, a specific detail that you might want me to put it...?" Dessie improvised.

Well, in her defense, it sounded kinda legit. Never mind that the report went through him anyway before going to Vindictus, but she could just pretend that the stresses of the new job were making her stupid.

"Umm...not really, I'm sure whatever you've written is fine, just as long as you've gone into detail with how he's connected to the scandal, mentioned Colin's newfound riches that don't exactly meet what his teams have paid him and of course his potential flight risk, combined with his previous scandal's it should be fine." Skander replied, giving the young girl an encouraging smile, well she wasn't too young, they were probably near the same age but still..."I'm sure what you write will be fine Dessie. Is there anything else you need help with?" Skander was now giving both people his full attention. He'd gotten the letter written and he kind of realised that he may not have been giving his employees enough attention recently.

O_O

Er...

WHUT?

What to do, what to do?! Lie and say yes then cram it all in, or tell the truth and. . . let him do it. Dessie had thought that all those things were pretty obvious. Wouldn't both Beckett and Vindictus know all that already? She had been taught to write only what was needed.

"Er, actually, I have another question. Say I didn't write all those things... Would I have to add them? I figured that Mr. Vindictus would want to just get to the information he doesn't know, but if it's necessary I will go and make the necessary changes," Dessie said, looking uneasy as she held her report between her fingers.

Bug-eyed and rather zany looking, Brett looked rather skittish as he walked past the cubicles in the Level 7 work area. There wasn't a secretary stationed near the door to direct him where to go, so he found a spot in the center where hopefully someone would come to his aid.

"Ahem, excuse me? I need some help here!" he called out in a raspy voice and fiddled with the sleeves of his robes.

Alina opened the door of the Conference Room, and stepped out into the work area. "I believe you are looking for me," she said with a gentle smile, trying her best not to show any sign of what the Division had just found out. She took a step towards the man, and held out her hand to shake.

"Alina Newtington, Patents Division Head," she introduced. "And you would be Mr. Thatcher?" She sure hoped it was, or she'd just made a complete fool of herself. "Apologies for not being here to greet you sooner, I've been caught up in a Division meeting. Did you find your way here okay?" Yes, totally natural conversation was the way forward.

Brett turned towards the woman who must have heard him and looked at her with a startled bug-eyed expression. The wild grey and white hair on his head and the maroon robes trimmed with bright orange added to the effect. "Yes! I'm Mr. Thatcher!" he answered excitedly and hurried over to the woman.

A scrawny white index finger with a dirty fingernail went up to the corner of his mouth that was set in a crooked-crazy smile. "Am I late? I hate being late but the large clock in the lobby said I was early. I like to be early but being early meant that I haven't had my tea and I take my tea at precise times throughout the day!"

Alina wasnt quite sure what to make of Mr. Thatcher. His bug-eyed expression. His wild hair. And the brightly coloured robes. "Lovely to meet you," she said with a smile as he confirmed his name.

"Late?" Alina glanced at her watch. "Not at all! You're slightly early, but no worries." If the Division Head had thought their meeting was going to be complicated, she was now sure it was going to be worse. This inventor was eccentric, and not exactly to the point. Was he even focused enough to make an object with dark magic?

"Would you like me to sort you a cup of tea? I wouldn't to have interupted your routine." Alina looked apologetic as she started to guide the man towards the Conference Room. "We'll be heading into the Conference Room for our meeting, so I hope that's okay."

"Milk and three sugars, stirred counterclockwise seven times," Brett replied and he smiled. His smile made him look crazier. "I've never seen the inside of a Conference Room. Is it quieter than this loud area? I can't concentrate with all of this-this chattering and rustling of papers and pictures of brutish beings waving at everyone."

"Milk, three sugars, counterclockwise seven times," Alina repeated softly, to help memorise the rather specific order. "Well, you soon will," Alina answered with a smile. "And yes, it will be quieter than this main work area. It can get rather hectic out here with all three Divisions of the Department working together." She refrained to comment on the subject of 'brutish beings'. She assumed he meant the quidditch posters, and she felt no need to correct the man. Especially with quidditch employees in the vicinity. It would just draw more attention.

"Shall we head into the Conference Room? Then I'll go and fix your cup of tea." She lead the way to the door, and started to open it. "My colleagues are very interested in what you have to say."

"Why would they be interested in what I have to say? I'm just an inventor who has a fantastic product to sell!" Brett replied shakily and ran a white scrawny hand through his already-messed up hair.

He looked at the door that Alina was opening and eyed it nervously. "I go through there. Is it true that your boss keeps a pet dragon by his side?"

Alina paused at the doorway, and turned back to the inventor. "I can assure you they are," Alina said. Just not in the patent you're thinking of, she added in her mind. "And it probably has something to do with that," she replied, allowing a smile to briefly flicker across her lips.

"Yes, Mr. Thatcher. This is the Conference Room. A lovely space for a meeting and discussion, I'm sure you'll agree." Well, it wasn't like there was anywhere else to hold this meeting if he didn't, but nevermind. "A pet dragon?" Alina chuckled. "It's invisible if he does, but I'm sure it's very well trained if it exists." She then realised that this man might actually believe her. He looked the gullible and slightly nervous type. "I'm joking, of course."

Brett cautiously approached the door but then stood beside it. He noticed that the wall was made of glass. "Perhaps I should look through the window first."

His back was now facing the workers in the cubicles and his attention was focused on what was on the other side of the glass.

"hello" he ask anyone where he can find Alina his division head so he can get to work soon a possible he just started today. He headed to a clear desk sat down and place his things on his desk his pictures of his pergnant wife and kids and his pet dog demon

Olive looked over from her office desk and smiled at the newcomer. She got up, walked over to him and said, "Hi, I'm Olive Avondale. Alina is in the conference room with an inventor who wants a patent for something he made. You can go in there, all of us are invited to observe. I'm going in later." She smiled, glancing at the pictures on his desk. Aww, he had a dog!

The glass window separating the conference room from the work area was shattered by the spell and bits of glass rained down on the floor. It crunched under Brett's feet as he entered the large work area.

"There's too many desks in here," he complained rather loudly and pointed his wand at the first desk that happened to be in his way. Stacks of papers were arranged neatly on it and it appeared the desk's occupant wasn't at his station. Brett walked closer and read the name that was on a name plate. According to the name plate sitting on it, it was the desk of Tom Simpson, the division head of Gobstones.

"Watch me help Mr. Simpson file some papers!" he exclaimed madly and pointed his wand at the papers.

"Incendio!"

A red light hit the papers and they were quickly engulfed in flames.

Brett stepped away to admire his work.

"Thank you i'm hunter riddle nice to meet you" thank you very much olive so waht divison do you work for he said with a smile.

Olive was about to answer Hunter's question when none other than Mr. Thatcher entered. "Oh my." Said Olive, quickly taking out her wand. Was this the inventor that had seemed so calm and nice when he entered the conference room? "Stupefy!" She yelled, pointing her wand at the crazed inventor.

Brett smiled with glee as the fire began to consume the desk and no one even bothered to put out the fire. "Burn, baby, BURN!" he exclaimed loudly and pointed his wand at another unmanned desk that was practically hidden under piles of papers.

"Incendio!"

The red light shot out from his wand and hit the target. Then suddenly, everything went dark.

"I'M GONNA HURT WHOEVER DID THAT!" he shouted and ripped the blindfold from his eyes.

Brett ripped the blindfold from his eyes and pivoted so that he was facing several division employees. One of them cast the spell, but who?

He pointed his wand and had just finished saying the incantation for the Tongue-Tying Curse when the stunner hit him a split second before the light emerged from his wand.

The spell threw him backwards and he collided with a solid wall. As the impact was made, it caused his wand to be thrown into the air where it spun around. A red light emerged from it and the curse Brett was trying to cast on his enemies struck him instead.

He lay there in a heap, momentarily unmoving.

Oh well. Back to the desk then. "Yessir, Mr. Beckett," Dessie nodded and took her completed work off his table. "I'll have it done as soon as possible," she said and stepped out of his office, her mind already on how best to write an introduction to this report.

Maybe a starting sentence about Mr. MacKenzie? Or should she forgo that and go straight it? After all, who knew MacKenzie's antics better than the Head of Magical Games and Spo- WHAT IN MERLIN'S BEARD??!?

Eyes widening, Dessie ground to a halt as she saw a man she had never seen before stand and watch as - the brunette gulped loudly - the papers of a certain Division head began to burn and more employees looking kind of untidy with a shell-shocked expression came out of one of the rooms. That was not good. Not good.

Thinking quickly, she shrunk her things and stuffed them into the inside pocket of her robes, while her eyes never left the new, apparently insane, newcomer. Who on earth let this guy in? Just as another employee managed to stun Mr. Crazy Dessie rushed over and pointed her wand at the burning stacks.

"Aguamenti!" she muttered and watched as water poured out of the tip of her wand and began quenching the flames. She'd make sure they were all safe from a fire hazard first...

WAS THAT HER DESK?!?!??! All the papers on Colin MacKenzie, her research, notes, extra parchments and letters- "AGUAMENTI!" she yelled in frustration, pointing her wand at her desk. It was no use, her spell didn't reach. Looking back down at the current situation, Dessie saw that she was almost done with Mr. Simpson's desk and cast the charm again, watching as the fire slowly died down.

'Course, they were soaked and almost entirely ruined and hers were just burning away... "Could someone please quench those parchments?! There's important information there that needs to be saved, if possible!" she pointed wildly at her desk with her free hand, appealing to any of the workers present.

Rosabelle stepped through the broken glass and found herself in a bigger mess. Desks were being set ablaze and Thatcher was just laughing it off. On the upside her blindfold had stunned him momentarily so to speak then he got stunned but his rage was now turned to her. Not stadning to close as to be seriously hurt if her were to get up, she pointed her wand at the unmoving heap and said, "Expelliarmus," aiming to disarm the man.

Olive nodded to Dessie and quickly jogged over to the flaming papers. "Augamenti!" The water flew out of her wand, quenching some of the fire. She cast the spell two or three more times until the fire was totally out. She breathed outward, glad that everything was starting to calm down.