Claire, so far, hated everything about the British and their magical government. Okay, that was a bit of an exaggeration. She really didn’t have too much of a problem with the people, but she definitely did not feel at home among them. They were all so… strange and distant, though she could not determine if this was the fault of them or of her response to them. They could be simultaneously polite as pie, and then incredibly cold and indifferent just a moment later. Perhaps it was just because she was from the American Ministry and had taken on a leadership role so quickly, and there was the usual distrust surrounding her, as anyone would naturally feel.
Government was a strange institution and friends were rarely made there. Claire had known this coming in, of course – had not her entire career been full of this same suspicion and uncertainty?
Still – even at the rat race back home, she had still had friends to rely on, familiarity to get her by. Even her least favorite in the department still somehow managed to tender some feelings of fondness from her systematic heart. Amongst cutthroat competition, snide comments, and backhanded memos she had found some sense of place, a feeling of harmony that made sense. Nothing here made sense. No interaction settled well in her stomach, no document seemed familiar, and no walk around the block felt natural. In short, she could not see herself lasting very long here. Not for want of ability. She would stay as long as she needed to. But she knew she would escape back to Manhattan the moment she was allowed to disappear. The moment Claire Bishop was no longer needed across the pond, she would see to it that she came home.
Besides all of that, she missed her best friend. She had not gone so long without Elsie in… well, she could not remember going this long without seeing her. She missed her New York apartment which had suited her all too perfectly. She missed her office which was comfy and familiar and full of the respect of her subordinates. And she missed the Ministry building, where she felt strong and important and necessary.
She came into work as she did every day. Even with a leadership title, she was still expected to eat among the masses – which just made her isolation more pointed and tiresome. She carried her tupperware, in which her healthy chicken and avocado wrap waited for her. The girl made sure everyone saw her as that Pilates-performing, health-food-devouring, tight-ponytail type professional woman. Few could imagine her devouring cookies late at night, sniffling as she watched terrible romantic comedies. She could imagine it all too easily. So could Elsie. So could her creepy neighbor who stared out his window at her.
She sat alone at a table and began unpacking her lunch, prepared for another quiet hour.