Carter headed into the Daily Prophet. He'd been meaning to swing by for awhile now, but hadn't had the chance to. Between Governor things, quidditch, and most importantly, the new baby, he'd been busy.

But he had time and was free now. He'd just ask a quick question and then finish errands.

He needed to pick Connor up a new grasshopper. It was about that time.

Now... who to talk to?

It had been mercifully quiet today, and Kenrick was counting his blessings. He'd not quite realised quite how taxing a newborn could be. At least there was no more debating on choosing a name; they'd settled on Spencer, and that headache was over.

But another, much more literal, headache had remained. No doubt stemming from lack of sleep and the effect of piercing baby screams, it was a real doozy. Coming into work ended up being like a holiday, and it was total bliss when all he had to do was stay in the office. In the quiet. Ahhh.

Except it hadn't been quiet for long. Someone was out in reception, and nooooobody else seemed to be willing to see to them. Or maybe there was just nobody else available. But WHATEVER. Kenrick would GO.

He stepped through the door and out into reception, spotting the culprit visitor immediately. Hmmm. Okay.

"Can I help you?" he asked the bloke, looking him up and down. Hmm. Looked familiar. But not familiar enough that Kenrick instantly recognised him. He blamed that on the headache.

Carter glanced around the desk. You'd think there'd be someone here? Maybe he ought to try again later.

Oh, wait. There was someone.

"Yeah. I was just interested in the process for submitting an editorial." he replied. Of course, he probably wouldn't have time to do it any time soon, but he'd still like to know. He had opinions about things sometimes. "I'm Carter, by the way." he said extending his hand. Introductions were polite. He needed to learn to do those more often.

The process.

The process for submitting an editorial.

Kenrick gave a great internal sigh, but was careful not to let any sort of unprofessionalism show on his face. Sure, this was work, and work meant people, but would it be too late to get someone else out to deal with this while he went to get a headache potion and finished badgering people for quotes and statements? ... No. The answer was no. Sigh. INTERNAL SIGH. Outward smile. Customer service. Kind of.

"Kenrick," the reporter said in reply, shaking the other man, Carter's, hand. Knowing the name had done nothing to jog his memory, which was... "The Prophet has a system where anyone can owl in and submit news, articles, editorials, and the like. We review it. Sometimes it gets published." Short and sweet and to the point. "...... What are you thinking of writing about?" It was a logical jump that this Carter guy was asking about this for himself, after all.

.

.

.

Was he in the right place?

After sending out packets to various publications, Gabriel had been hoping to snag an internship. For the sake of gaining some experience. He'd gotten the go ahead to do big things next term and because he was utterly determined to succeed, places such as the Daily Prophet and WHiM were necessary. Luckily enough for him, he'd gotten both. Reputable publications with YEARS of experience under their collective belts.

Arriving at the Daily Prophet in a suit, due to Mr. Emerson being adamant to their appeal and professionalism, Gabe carefully made his way to the receptionist's desk, hand tucked in his pocket. "I'm here for a..." He paused and double checked the name on the owl. "...Mr. Basil Skeeter?"

Kendrick. Carter nodded. He'd remember that. He'd gotten a lot better at names. He blamed that on the quidditch and governor thing. Lots of people, lots of names, lots of things to remember to not offend anyone.

He nodded again. "Seems easy enough." In fact, had he been thinking, that would have been what he'd guessed would have been the process.

Heh. Whoops. Maybe he shouldn't be writing. He didn't really think things through very well.

"Hogwarts." Well. That's what caught his eye anyway. And being on the Board, he felt like he might sometimes have relevant things to say.

Not that that was the only thing he did. He had kids and played quidditch and practically owned a zoo. That made him have opinions on things, right?

Quote:

Originally Posted by Govoni

.

.

.

Was he in the right place?

After sending out packets to various publications, Gabriel had been hoping to snag an internship. For the sake of gaining some experience. He'd gotten the go ahead to do big things next term and because he was utterly determined to succeed, places such as the Daily Prophet and WHiM were necessary. Luckily enough for him, he'd gotten both. Reputable publications with YEARS of experience under their collective belts.

Arriving at the Daily Prophet in a suit, due to Mr. Emerson being adamant to their appeal and professionalism, Gabe carefully made his way to the receptionist's desk, hand tucked in his pocket. "I'm here for a..." He paused and double checked the name on the owl. "...Mr. Basil Skeeter?"

Basil mostly kept to himself these days, which really was not anything out of the ordinary for the Editor-in-Chief. The only significant difference, if anyone cared to call it that, was that he no longer carried anything resembling small talk.

He had exiting his office, slamming the door with authoritative force behind him, and arrived in the reception area right on the dot. "Good. You're on time," he said, his tone firm and dry. His eyes vacantly looked over the boy but made no eye contact with him as he continued, reaching over the desk for a small parcel without looking at the receptionist either. "I am Basil Skeeter, Editor-in-Chief of the Daily Prophet. Your intern's badge and journalist affections can be found in here. You are to wear your badge at all times while on the premises at all times. Is that understood?"

Whether or not he would wear it while on assignment was yet to be decided. It would all depend on how the young man fit into the Master's plans.

.

Oh, this was the right place, then.

Accepting the box from the eccentrically dressed man, Gabriel tucked it beneath his arm. Mr. Skeeter's clothing of choice didn't throw him so much...as he'd been meeting many eccentric people as of late. The crazier, the more brilliant....right?

"Yes, Mr. Skeeter." He was getting very good at being a 'yes' boy....man....person. He was of age now...So...a man.

The most comforting thing, perhaps out of all of it, was that this man, like Mr. Emerson, seemed very controlled and professional. So, Gabe could adapt to that....Since he'd been doing so for WHiM. It would essentially be....keep your head down, do your work, and listen closely. Things Gabes did best.

SPOILER!!: this poor kid

Quote:

Originally Posted by Govoni

.

Oh, this was the right place, then.

Accepting the box from the eccentrically dressed man, Gabriel tucked it beneath his arm. Mr. Skeeter's clothing of choice didn't throw him so much...as he'd been meeting many eccentric people as of late. The crazier, the more brilliant....right?

"Yes, Mr. Skeeter." He was getting very good at being a 'yes' boy....man....person. He was of age now...So...a man.

The most comforting thing, perhaps out of all of it, was that this man, like Mr. Emerson, seemed very controlled and professional. So, Gabe could adapt to that....Since he'd been doing so for WHiM. It would essentially be....keep your head down, do your work, and listen closely. Things Gabes did best.

Giving the kid a cursory look up and down almost as if he were sizing the young man up, looking for any sort of cracks or weaknesses to be exploited. Spotting more than a few things, the Editor-in-Chief almost allowed a smirk to tug his lips upwards, but managed to contain himself and instead continued to play the part he had been handed. Starting with the removal of a spray bottle of disinfectant from the counter.

After spraying his own hands, he pointed it at the Banner kid and stared at the intern's hands with the same emotionless expression he had worn since stepping out of his office.

"Your hands," he said coolly.

New things were afoot at the Daily Prophet, Tori could sense them with her highly-toned spidey journalistic senses. Naturally she wasn't going to allow a run at fresh meat to escape her today. So upon hearing the SLAM! of Basil's door, the redhead conveniently took up a perch at the edge of the Prophet's entrance, the edge closest to the journalist desks of course.

"Well well well, who do we have here?" she called out brightly, giving a little wink to the nervous-looking kid currently being disinfected by Basil. "Is this a Hogwarts intern? What's your name, sweetie?" He was ADORABLE. Look at those glasses. This was even better than the curly-haired kid from last year. Tori was already thinking of ALL THE THINGS she could dress him up in for her annual fashion column.

His....hands?

.

.

Gabriel watched closely as the man first sprayed his own hands...and then turned the bottle in his direction. It was confusing...as they would still touch door knobs...and germs were practically airborne, anyhow. IF this was due to germs. He didn't point it out, however. It was being chalked up to the 'crazy, yet brilliant' thing...and not his place to say a word.

Holding the box in place, he awkwardly presented his hands to Mr. Skeeter.....suddenly hearing someone chime in nearby...

O.o

Attempting not to stumble over his words too much, Gabe fought the urge to stuff his hands back into his pants pockets; an anxious habit he'd picked up from WHiM. ".....Gabriel Banner....ma'am." There was some throat clearing before and after that answer, as well. Did he seem flushed? He might've been terribly flushed...ahem.

Spraying the intern's hands several times over, Basil turned the nozzle to his own hands (despite them both being clothed in black leather gloves) and sprayed them again before setting on the counter and offering his left hand to the boy for a handshake. The right hand, however, remained behind his back.

"You will not be filing paper work or running the printing presses while you are here," Basil informed him, his fingers clenching as he lifted his head a bit so he could attempt to look down at the young man. "I have a series of assignments, written and research oriented, lined up for you. You will find a formal list of these on your desk in the main work room." All tasks to keep this one OUT of the Daily Prophet for good portions of the day. Easy enough not to raise suspicions that way. "As well as I will require you to run a few...personal errands for me..."

But before he could go on about those, they were interrupted. What had the master said about this one? Had he said anything? Basil's teeth scrapped against one another in his closed mouth, his jaw muscles flexing uncomfortably as he stared at her. Ah yes...there WAS something...

Sauntering towards her, he first winked at her and then spoke. "Indeed, Victoria," he cooed, reaching out with one of his fingers to twirl a lock of her red hair. "This is Victoria Bunbury, once a Hogwarts student like yourself," he continued as he ceased his toying with her hair and moved to stand beside the Banner kid once more. "Shall we all go take a peek at or desk then? Or continue to stand here checking out Victoria like she is a library book?"

Mmm, Gabriel, Gabriel Banner. Tori let out a tiny chuckle at the boy's reaction, but quickly knocked it off when she saw the little Editor coming her way. What was he--- what was thi---

Ewwwwww he was touching her hair. Tori stiffened up quickly and tried not to wince too much. This was just WEIRD. Just weird and awkward, and her discomfort showed on her expression. Tori shifted away from her perch as soon as the Editor-in-Chief had sauntered off. "Basil's not usually like this," she promised the Banner boy. "And we're not ALL business here. If you finish all your assignments, you should come find me."

She was totes more fun than a library book. And she was still going to play dress-up with him. "Toodles!" Tori made herself scarce from the waiting area. There was just something unusually creepy about Basil right now. He was in some kind of certain funk and she didn't want to be around for the fallout from it.

.

.

One would think that spraying ONCE would be enough. Clearly not Mr. Skeeter, however. The man had decided to pulverize the Ravenclaw's hands; dousing them repeatedly with whatever substance was in the bottle. Gabriel, who was continuing to keep his mouth shut, blinked awkwardly at him...and then the redhead, in turn.

Their exchange was an uncomfortable one. Mostly because Gabe knew about uncomfortable exchanges...as that's what most of his could be classified as. It wasn't shameful and he wasn't embarrassed by it. It was simply true.

...and he was selfishly pleased that there wouldn't be much heavy lifting involved in his work. Writing assignments and personal errands. That seemed straightforward enough. And Gabe enjoyed writing. Everyone won...or could win. He wasn't sure how the saying went precisely.

"......" The 'Checking out Victoria like she is a library book' comment made the Ravenclaw do a double take...and he WAS flushing. Brightly. Not daring to look towards her again, he cleared his throat and, again, awkwardly nodded when she mentioned about coming to find her later. Yes. Sure. He'd....get right on that....

....and he might've....glanced at her bum....as she walked away. Gabe really hadn't meant to...It'd just been he'd been looking in that direction and she'd turned...and........you know?

"I'm ready to get started, sir." Ahem.

Attention forward, Basil continued to stare with vacant eyes towards the door to the writer and editor desks. He gave no acknowledgement to the red head as she left, for his initial instructions were complete and she was no longer his concern for the time being, he waited for a verbal cue from the boy before proceeding.

"Good," he cooed, taking a step towards the door. Lifting his right hand towards it, he hesitated for a moment before switching to his left, turning the handle and pulling the door open. "After you, Mr. Gabriel Banner."

And then we'll see just what to do with you.

Kenrick nodded in return, slowly, thoughtfully. Mhmm, yes. It was quite easy, but then he worked here, so getting in touch with Basil and submitting an article was as simple as walking up to him and placing the parchment in his probably-well-sanitised hands.

... "Hogwarts." He repeated, suddenly looking just a smidge more interested. Anyone who knew Kenrick well would know his, uh... feelings about the school, and the way it was run, and why on earth the blasted place was still open. Of course, not many people knew Kenrick well at all, and he had a tendency to keep a lot of his opinions to himself, especially when he didn't know exactly who he was talking to. Face to face, at least. Articles were a whole 'nother story. "I'm sure we'd appreciate anything you have to submit. It's always helpful to hear different... opinions." Yes. Yep. Although now Kenrick was curious about what this guy had to say, but he wasn't going to ask just like that. "In fact, I encourage it."

He thought about adding something about how schools were such an important topic because children are the future, but that felt like pushing it.

Carter had gotten good at reading people. He blamed it on playing politics and playing nice with quidditch reporters.

That, and having a wife that always was craving chocolate.

Of course, none of his people skills were needed with how this guy used the word opinions.

"It sounds like you have opinions of your own." Carter wasn't quite sure what he meant by that. Maybe it was a challenge? Maybe it was interest? Maybe he was just curious as to if this guy had some insight.

Eyebrows were being raised. Only an infinitesimal amount, only for a second, but perhaps enough to be noticed by the right (or wrong? hopefully not wrong) person.

"Oh, I do," Kenrick replied, his tone light and airy. Or, well, as light and airy as he could conceivably get it, the grump. He considered the bloke for a moment or two longer, tapping his fingers on the counter. Then, before the silence got too long or awkward (in his mind, at least), he finally spoke again. In a very measured way, because he still wasn't sure of exactly who he was talking to. "Opinions as a result of experiences. Can't say the place has a great track record."

He had said not a word. Not a single word. But it was going to be a kneazle's uncle to get in without saying a word. Probably why the woman behind the desk was just sort of blinking at him.

Mathis would blame it on the clothes he wore. They were uncomfortable, and while well fitting, they weren't him. But he couldn't be him right now. That, was too simple. Too easy. Too ... him.

It was also the coffee in one hand and the envelope tucked under his arm. Two cups of something. He'd just sort of nodded at the woman who had been asking him what type, and what sugar and what cream. Didn't matter. He just needed coffee. It was like the clothes. He just...needed them.

The woman's mouth moved again, making Mathis's eyes twitch across the headquarters logo again. "Basil Skeeter. I have a meeting."

How many words? Six already. It soured his mood.

But the receptionist was up and moving, muttering something under her breath about Monday morning visits as she disappeared. Mathis' gaze didn't follow her. There were other things to look at, to evaluate, to see. None of the people that milled about were particularly interesting. Pay them no mind, they paid you no mind. Invisible was as one acted.

Quote:

Originally Posted by Tazenhani

He had said not a word. Not a single word. But it was going to be a kneazle's uncle to get in without saying a word. Probably why the woman behind the desk was just sort of blinking at him.

Mathis would blame it on the clothes he wore. They were uncomfortable, and while well fitting, they weren't him. But he couldn't be him right now. That, was too simple. Too easy. Too ... him.

It was also the coffee in one hand and the envelope tucked under his arm. Two cups of something. He'd just sort of nodded at the woman who had been asking him what type, and what sugar and what cream. Didn't matter. He just needed coffee. It was like the clothes. He just...needed them.

The woman's mouth moved again, making Mathis's eyes twitch across the headquarters logo again. "Basil Skeeter. I have a meeting."

How many words? Six already. It soured his mood.

But the receptionist was up and moving, muttering something under her breath about Monday morning visits as she disappeared. Mathis' gaze didn't follow her. There were other things to look at, to evaluate, to see. None of the people that milled about were particularly interesting. Pay them no mind, they paid you no mind. Invisible was as one acted.

Having been right in the middle of something, Basil had hexed the eyebrows off the woman who had disturbed him. The tears coming from her eyes were reason enough for him to target her head of hair next, but something made him refrain for the time being.

Stepping out into the reception area, his vacant eyes looked towards the visitor. Giving the man a look up and down, something triggered within the Editor-in-Chief that made him act.

"Come," he grunted, shooting dagger eyes at the receptionist.

So this, was the man of the hour. Mathis' eyes skittered over him, unconcerned with the way his own eyed him up and down. He took more time in his assessment, catching the fray in clothing here, the loose stitch there and the unknown stain there.

A small, private smile played at the corners of his lips, rising and falling as his gaze did. It ended up that his attention on the man's shoes had him following him, pulled forward by the gait and stride with which he moved.

He didn't even notice the receptionist, or her distraught state. She had already been ruled out.

Carter tilted his head ever so slightly. It was like this guy was trying to figure out who he was, but couldn't quite place him. That was not a reaction the quidditch player was used to.

"Personal experiences?" he asked. Just out of curiosity. As for the terrible track record, he agreed. But he wasn't going to say that. As a Governor, he didn't want to come across that way.

There was crying. Lots and lots of crying as Rhea made her way into the Daily Prophet building. It had almost been a whole 24 hours since her little girl went missing from right under her watch. She was just two! How could a 2 year old run away in seconds? No she was kidnapped and Rhea Bellaire-Moore's whole life was crashing down.

She needed help to find her little girl and she needed their help right this bloody moment.

Everyday was more and more frustrating to him, he had been coming back into work part time trying to get his life back, trying to be part of society again. It was rough, somethings had come back easily others were not coming at all it seemed. He needed a break from his desk so getting up he made his way out towards the reception area most likely to head out of the office for a bit.

What he didn't expect was a woman and a crying woman at that coming into the building. He looked around as his anxiety picked up hoping someone anyone could help her that wasn't sounding like an idiot from healing issues.

No it was only him and the secretary, so taking a deep breath he walked over and gave a concerned look. "Can I.. I help you?"

Before she could get to the receptionist and explain her situation someone else joined them. She took a deep breath and tried to form words. But how could she? Her heart was breaking and more and more time while her baby girl was missing.

"S..someone took my daughter!" She broke down into tears again and sunk unto one of the seats.

"Please..please help me find her." Trembling pictures reached into her purse to hand over a picture of her daughter.

SPOILER!!: Belle