Private Lunch on Public Record

Claire's day had been less than perfect. Holden was doing his best to help her out as her newly enstated second in command, seeing as things just had not worked out with the intelligent by disagreeable Delia Sergeant, but most of the odds were stacked against Claire. She had gotten the top forces of hers working beautifully. They were now as well trained and as efficient as the Aurors, some more so than others. They worked well, clearing basic scum off of the streets in a systematic, orderly fashion. Criminals barely touched ground before her trained forces were able to bring them in. The Investigative Squad, directly under her control while Holden delgated to the Street Squad, was getting more clever and more intuitive. If that was where her responsibilities ended, she would have been golden.

But instructions from America were clear. Do not perform as usual. To do so would garner her attention. She was an efficient woman, used by the American government to bring each department back to standard. and if she truly put her best into the Law Enforcement Squadron, the higher ups would pay her more attention. She could not fire those who simply were not suited for this job. She trained them enough to ensure she would not lose her job and left them to create more messes for the employees she valued most. It was infuriating, but it had to be done.

Today was another of those Close Call days. Erica Lager and Ivan Pasternak, two of the best in street squad, had dropped in to finally complain about the inferior behavior of some of their colleagues. Claire had spilled a bunch of political mumbo-jumbo that neither had believed. They say what she did with them and what she did with the lower ranking employees and knew it was by choice. Ivan had said a word or two of insubordinance but it had been Erica's cold, polite acceptance of the situation that had stung. They knew Claire could be doing better and was choosing not to. That was what hurt. That disappointment.

Lunch rolled around and Claire needed an escape. She travelled the block outside the Ministry and picked up some signatures sandwiches at the elegant little bistro just down the street, as well as two to-go iced teas. Soon she was back in the Ministry and heading through the lifts towards the Department of Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures. If anyone was to know what a disappointing day in the bureacracy was like, Claire knew she was to be found in the Head Office in the Creatures Department.

Rivah's secretary buzzed her in and Claire stepped through the door, drink carrier on one hand and to-go bags in the other.

"I don't know about you," Claire said, "but a private lunch sounds much better than joining the wild beasts in the watering hole." She grimaced - both women had commented on how a lunch in the cafeteria often meant they were approached about work related issues. It just wasn't a good day for it.

Rivah Trenton's morning had been surprisingly pleasant. She had awoken after a full eight hours of sleep, far more than she usually got, before her alarm had even gone off. The blonde had clambered out of bed, and spent fifteen minutes relaxing under the warm spray of her showerhead, humming all the while. She'd thrown on a red blouse and a flowing white skirt, before fixing her hair and taking the time to actually sit down and enjoy her breakfast. The witch had read the morning's paper while munching on her jam-covered crumpet, and apperated into the Ministry with a small smile upon her face.

She swiftly made her way up to her floor, and was more than pleased to find out from the department secretary that nothing disastrous had happened in the fourteen hours she'd been gone. People could say whatever they wanted about the funding for her department, but they needed every knut of it. If it was up to Rivah, they'd have more. After all, was it really necessary for the law office to have twenty coffee machines? No. Did her department need money for upkeep so that a griffin didn't escape from the creature containment and research center, again? Yes, thank you.

No matter how much stress and frustration the woman was almost constantly caused, Rivah was positive that she would never be able to hate her job. She was one of the few people who genuinely enjoyed organization and paperwork, along with activities that demanded quick-thinking and legwork. For this reason, her profession could not have been more perfect for the witch. There were mounds of legal forms to be signed and contracts to be negotiated, but Rivah could still go out and help the spirit specialists with a particularly nasty poltergeist whenever she felt the urge. It was nice, to watch the department blossom as she funneled her time and energy into it.

Just as she began to start color coding the week's employee case reports, the woman heard the familiar buzz or her door being unlocked. Looking up just in time to see Claire enter her office, the blonde sent her friend a pleased smile. Rivah didn't have many friends in the Ministry, outside of her own department, and relationships with fellow Creatures Department staff had gotten a bit stilted since she'd become the one controlling their paychecks.

"So much better," the witch agreed with a grin, tucking the reports into a manila file and sliding them into one of the many filing cabinets lining her walls. She could deal with them later. "You are brilliant, I don't tell you that enough," Rivah informed her friend, standing to take the drink carrier off of her, before promptly sitting it upon her varnished wooden desk. Gesturing to the large, cushy armchair across from her own seat, the Death Eater slid back down into a comfortable position, peering curiously at the takeout bags her friend had brought.

"So, how has your morning been?" Rivah asked, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear and smoothing out a crease in her skirt, "not too much bureaucratic bullsh!t, I hope?"

It rarely happened, in the Ministry especially, that people looked happy to see her. Those who disliked work thought she did her job to well, and those who liked work thought she could be doing so much better. Then there were the few that understood her position. Sure, Rivah and the other few acquaintances Claire had did not know fully of the odd predicament she found herself in. But they knew that, as a leader in the Ministry, there was a horrid battle between your subordinates and your superiors that seemed to never end. You were always in the wrong, and there was no real victory.

So a friendly face could mean a lot. In fact, it did. Claire might not have been loyal to the British Ministry of Magic, but the people in it had done her no harm, and she appreciated every kindness they showed her. Rivah cleared her work away and Claire smiled, taking it for permission to come in. (She was only Head of one section of a department and she knew how irritating it was when people just waltzed into her office. She knew Rivah must feel the same as well.)

She held the drink carrier out as she approached the desk, handing it off to Rivah. She sat in the offered chair and set down the to-go bag, grinning at the other blonde. “I have my moments, even I must admit.” She reached forward and opened the to-go bag, withdrawing the two containers. She slid one to her friend and opened the other herself – a Turkey club, spare the mayonnaise, on a ciabatta bun. After a long, exhausting day (and the day was only half done) a luxurious sandwich such as this was really going to hit the spot.

She took a bite and her eyes rolled upwards. “Mmm!” Her weakness, food, struck again. Swallowing the mouthful, she grinned. “I sure know how to pick a bistro.” She reached forward and drank as Rivah spoke. Swallowing the tea, she said, “Eh, I shouldn’t be able to complain, since I’m used to it by now, but I’ve had to face the scrutiny of my insubordinates today. How is that somehow worse than that of the superiors?”