He'd loved Liz, he admitted. Not that she'd gone anywhere, not exactly. She had, though, gotten pregnant in a high risk pregnancy, and she was facing months of bedrest to try to keep her and her baby healthy. She'd had no choice but to quit. She'd been tearful and reluctant to leave her post. He'd been nurturing and comforting and reassuring. He'd given her one of Kate's handmade stained glass lamps as a gift.
He didn't like the secretaries that human resources generally sent for him. He'd found Liz himself by rifling through their applications, and she'd been a gem. This time, they'd sent him four different dossiers to choose from, all distinctively different. It looked very much like they still didn't understand what exactly he was looking for in a secretary, so they'd decided if they could muster up a potpourri of different personalities, they'd raise the likelihood that he'd like one of them.
And he had. Her name was Safiya Jordan. She seemed to be organized, efficient, and able to be self directive, by what he'd read. Good. Apparently she didn't need a map to find her way around the Ministry corridors--another plus. He appreciated...no, he needed intelligence for this post.
He'd gotten here this morning while it was still dark. He'd lost much of yesterday afternoon to a couple of emergencies at St. Mungos. A broomstick fall that had nearly killed a young boy who'd believed it would be fun to steal his big brother's Firebolt. It hadn't worked out well at all. Robert had had the boy in surgery for hours. The boy was alive and stabilizing. Then, he'd had a gardening club that had gone on a group gardening project, only to find that the growth potion they'd used for their plants had toxic side effects for the gardeners themselves. Robert had discovered it was another one of those tainted things. He'd been livid about it, but he had also stayed with it until he was sure that every one of them was alright.
He'd missed dinner. He'd finished at the hospital and come straight back. He'd reached the Ministry about a quarter til five in the morning when the baker was just arriving at the Atrium Cafe to start the morning's prep work and baking. The best they'd had to offer was a day old scone and some fresh fruit. He'd taken a couple of fresh, crisp pears with him, and he'd paid them, thanked them and gone up to his office and put the teakettle on the hearth and then had set to work.
He'd heard the florists arrive and drop off the daily delivery of fresh flowers for the Ministry outer office. The sound made him look at the clock. He'd lost track of time. Although he'd showered and shaved after his last surgery at the hospital, he had intended to look a bit fresher and more put together than he felt like he was on Ms. Jordan's first day. She would arrive any minute. He'd not gotten to the scone or the pears, just the tea. He had, though, churned out a stack of paperwork that desperately had needed attended to. Maybe Jordan would forgive him for not having that crisp, fresh, 8am snappy appearance that one might expect the Minister to have. If she didn't, well, she might as well get used to it straight away, then, he sighed. Another day was dawning, and he didn't feel like he'd adequately put the last one to bed yet.
@ Safiya Jordan
by 
