F I N G E R P R I N T S >>>

[Daniella Wilde]

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CAUSE I JUST SET THEM UP JUST SET THEM UP TO KNOCK THEM DOWN,

I THINK I SHOULD KNOW HOW TO MAKE

LOVE TO SOMETHING INNOCENT WITHOUT LEAVING MY FINGERPRINTS

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Daniella was known for being impulsive. Had a habit of getting herself into situations that could be considered rather risque, and while she normally had any number of those that could be considered her partners in these endeavors- those who more often than not got her into such situations themselves- she'd gone and managed to step into something with possibly even more risk all on her own. Because she liked pretty faces. And strong jaw lines. And apparently men who spoke like they were from another era entirely. Men who bent over double to bring your hand to their lips and were so goddamned proper that it made your teeth ache. Men that had you grinning so wide and for such a prolonged period of time that your jaw still carried the twinge hours after the fact. That alone was newsworthy- was different from how things went normally. The fact that it was the Minister. The Minister. The Minister as in her boss- the head honcho, the man in charge... and he hadn't even bothered to tell her it was him. Well, okay, he had given her his fucking name- but that had been it, ignored her not so subtle probing questions to try and place just what job he held in the ministry. Although given hindsight she could see that he had made some fairly obvious hints, they were still just that hints. And while she enjoyed games- she didn't much like making getting to know someone one. Although – you know, with that face... Good Merlin Christ that face, and she was fucking mixing her heritages for it too- nooo problemo doing it either. Her body paused, standing in front of the black glass and looking down over her outfit- because she could do that. She could be a girl. Damn the lot of her brothers she could. Especially damn the lot of them for questioning why she was so dressed up for the second day in a row- or the twins calling out repeatedly that if she was going to go and try to bag the minister she needed to stop- because you most certainly did not back a fucking face that looked like that. She just... wanted to see him, and maybe yell at him. Definitely bone him. That is. Fucking hell. Her fingers rose, pulling through her loose hair and fluffing it up- watching as the digits came out of the ends smoothly and again congratulating herself on thinking through using product and shit in her hair before coming. She looked... another cursory glance in the glass. Like a girl. Woman. Like a woman. Fuck. She'd definitely dressed up, all fancy and everything- not that anyone from the office would be surprised. She dressed up for things for work... although Ash would probably say something about her lack of cleavage which would lead to her proving that it worked just fine without it. Because fuck him that's why. She looked great in this dress. So she could walk up there and find the Minister...

Merlin. The Minister. Because she hadn’t been forward enough for how refined he was- he had to go and be the damned minister. Which- she supposed, he’d told her in his own way, not that she’d quite grasped that. Which meant that supper at home had been a wholly different kind of affair than normal. Choking and yelling and she was pretty sure Annette spent the entire conversation keeping herself from falling out of the chair while she laughed. Something she’d gotten her back for but still. Of course she'd gone home and asked the lot of them together if any of them knew who he was- recited his name all pretty and managed not to grin or make any kind of commentary- who the fuck knew a name alone would set them all off. She hadn't- although if she'd known who he was beforehand she might have. She'd gotten a ten minute lecture from Pops about keeping up with the business end of things and no telling how many jokes cracked by the boys about her being a fucking auror and still not knowing who she was working for. But the political end of things just wasn't her. All the red tape and shit. She handled her end. Filed her paperwork in a mostly fucking timely manner- sometimes. And she got shit done. What did it matter to her who was in office? Well... when he was so pretty...The Minister of Magic. It wasn’t like it changed that much, not in her eyes necessarily. It certainly didn’t make him more attractive; if anything it almost made him less. Almost. If it weren’t for poetry it probably would have. Fucking. Poetry. Because him talking like he was reciting it all the time wasn’t bad enough he had to go around kissing hands and reciting actual poetry as a goodbye. Pfff. Like she was going to leave it alone even before then. Damned handsome stuffed shirts with damned poetic everything. Regardless of what her brother’s said- the lot of them were assholes- and despite the questions she’d gotten leaving the house dressed like a girl again, dressed like even more of a girl really, she was up at the ministry again. On the off chance that he was here. And she was betting- that a minister who went around handing out Christmas bonuses from desk to desk would be. Made her more than happy to have voted for him- all political opinions aside. Her heels clicked down the hallway, admittedly not one she was familiar with.

She had very little reason to be in this part of the building the majority of the time. More often than not she stuck to where she was supposed to be. Or where she was sent. Which was really all one and the same. She could count on one hand the number of times she’d been to the minister’s office. And none of them in his term. Which was a damn shame considering. She at least knew the way well enough not to have to keep relighting her wand and check directions. There were enough hallway lights still on to allow her the ability to get through without breaking her neck- she didn’t need another clumsy start. It wasn’t until she was nearing the door itself that she slowed down considerably, corners of her lips lifting at the light coming through the crack in the door. Definitely here then. She rather enjoyed being right. Given, it happened fairly regularly, but it was always nice regardless. She pushed the door open slightly, lips widening at the sight of him on the floor surrounded by paperwork- because that was how everyone wanted to spend their Christmas. That and the fact that he looked rather attractive … again. Still no stuffed shirt in sight. And still not looking up. Her hip went to rest against the door jamb, eyebrows lifting slightly. “You know, it’s considered rather rude not to tell people that you’re the el capitaine,” her lips still curling upwards. “Especially when you know who they are. Unfair advantage and all.”

TAGGED: Mr.Minister
OUTFIT: link
WORDS: numbers here.
NOTES: uhhh....
LYRICS: drops of jupiter by train.
CREDIT: abbi, or mrs.sherlock holmes @ atf!

[Marlon Wagner]

Christmas Eve

He wasn't expecting to hear anything over the too soft music he had playing in his office. Some sad little thing on the radio, composed by some local artist or another. It was background noise for him, something just to keep the silence from being too distracting. The paperwork surrounded him, documents and files, contracts and new building plans. Budgets and more. He was so close, he wanted so very much to be caught up before the new year started. To have it be his year, to have everything in line before it needed to be in line. So far, he was doing just as he needed to. Had been so immersed in work that he hadn't even had time for anything else, he still had yet to purchase a gift for his sister, and he very much needed to do that. She would never let him live it down otherwise. The longer he waited, the more expensive it was going to have to be. Which was fine, she deserved something nice. Still, the sound of clicking heels made him think that she was coming up here to remove him, to drag him out of the office and feed him, he wouldn't have put it past her. “Hello?” he inquired softly as he heard the lift doors shut behind whoever it was. His gaze trained on the crack in the door, waiting. His hand moving cautiously to the wand resting on the stack of papers beside him until he saw the face, a pleasant surprise then. His hand steadied, moving back toward his lap, and brought his hands together. He should have stood, should have cleared her a seat, but she didn't look like she wanted to sit. She looked....miffed? “You know, it’s considered rather rude not to tell people that you’re the el capitaine,” Just as straight forward as last time, he couldn't help but to let his smile grow larger, teeth exposed. “Especially when you know who they are. Unfair advantage and all.” He didn't think her accusation was fair. “My likeness is plastered all about the building and the paper, I do believe that I gave you my name...no abbreviations or deceptive shortenings.” his tone playful “Am I really to be faulted if you don't know who you work for?” there was no authoritative air to his tone this night, he wasn't holding it over her head, he wasn't outright correcting her, which could be a problem for him more often than not, he was just looking at her.

“No, but you had to be aware I didn’t know who you were.” He might have. He had thought that if he had given her more information, that she might have put it together on her own, obviously something or somebody had done that for her. No doubt her father, if she had done as he asked her to anyway. He hadn't outright denied who he was either, and she hadn't asked him just what position he was in. He didn't feel like he had hidden anything from her, not really. Didn't think he was all that sneaky, certainly not enough to hide things from people. Well, no. He wasn't. Not really. “Whereas, you knew not only who I was- but my family and family history. Unfair advantage. Like quoting poetry. There are some, Mr. Minister, that would call you a tease.” He was just glad that she hadn't called him 'Sir', he didn't like it whenever people called him sir. His smile grew as her words carried on. He didn't think that quoting poetry was unfair whenever she had been the one to bring it up in the first place. The tease however, had his smile faltering. He wasn't a tease, if she meant it in the way that he thought she might have. “Please, Mr. Wagner, or Marlon...I think, the building is technically closed after all.” he let his fingers shift within his hands. “It is my job, to know your family, Ms. Wilde, and your history given that you work in this building, and obviously, this building is my business.” He almost fidgeted, the name she had given him made him so uncomfortable, but he would never admonish her for her boldness. “I'm not sure how any of that, could make me a 'tease', as you put it.”

"Excellent. I think its fairly easy to work a system out of that," A system? "Liiiike- in the continued absence of your stuffed shirt," His eyes drifted down to the sweater covering his torso, unsure if that was a good or a bad thing in her eyes. Whether or not it was going to stain his reputation in her eyes, give him less authority than his title would otherwise demand. He knew certain instances, he was supposed to dress down, be informal, where it would be accepted by the masses, but almost every other time he set foot outside of his door, he was expected to be in a suit. He could assume she was playing, but he had gotten In trouble with that before."you can remain Marlon." He felt himself smiling already, "and once you reclaim it you can be Mr.Wagner. Or Mr.Minister." That would work out wonderfully, actually. Normally he was only allowed to be Marlon to his family, given that he really didn't have any friends to speak of. Not any longer. No, he had seen to that with years of distance and the accidental cold shouldering. "you know... Depending. so long as you don't go wearing a stuffed shirt when you see me outside of work it should be foolproof." He couldn't help but to laugh “In the future?” He didn't know what she was hinting at, or implying just how she was going to see him, but the way she said it, so very sure of herself, was appealing. He certainly wasn't adverse to the idea. “I think we can dispense with the Ms too. So long as you’re Marlon- given we can’t follow quite the same rules for my level of dress but we can combine the two.” if calling attention to her dress was on purpose, he wouldn’t have noticed, but he did notice her dress. It was more formal than it had been yesterday, was that on purpose? “Very well, if you insist.” He said too seriously to be taken serious. “Actually I was referring to kissing a girls hand and reciting poetry only to leave her starting at your retreating back.” His jaw lowered a little. What was she implying? They had only just met after all. What sort of goodbyes was she accustomed to? Not that he was going to ask. “I had thought I had to worry about being disarmed by the enemy- not my own minister.” He nodded once, shifting his weight until he was standing on his knees, shuffling some papers around a little to open the circle he had made for himself, “Please, you don't have to hover.” that was a whole other issue he had. Lifting his head with hands full of papers he smiled. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company this evening, by the way? Stopped in on the way to....something?” he didn't want to assume or pry...that was open enough, he thought.


Wearing

[Daniella Wilde]

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CAUSE I JUST SET THEM UP JUST SET THEM UP TO KNOCK THEM DOWN,

I THINK I SHOULD KNOW HOW TO MAKE

LOVE TO SOMETHING INNOCENT WITHOUT LEAVING MY FINGERPRINTS

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Smiling. Good. She wasn’t nearly as irritated as he words might have come across, she’d had the papers shoved under her nose by several of her brother’s since supper had ended- all of them reproving her for not having recognized him right off. Actually, even her pops had commented that it was a problem for her not to have. Really though, she just hadn’t… thought about it really. It wasn’t as if she talked to him personally or went about staring at the newspapers. Most anything she needed to know she could learn at work itself- she worked in the hub of things after all. “My likeness is plastered all about the building and the paper, I do believe that I gave you my name...no abbreviations or deceptive shortenings.” Well, if he didn’t just take her argument right out from underneath her, her own smile widening at the words. Yes he had, and she’d actually seen the pictures coming up here. ”Am I really to be faulted if you don't know who you work for?” Her laugh was light, nose scrunching slightly as she shrugged her shoulders. “No, but you had to be aware I didn’t know who you were.” More than aware. He’d known, she’d made it more than obvious that she didn’t. Again, it wasn’t something she necessarily minded though- other than the ribbing she’d gotten when it had come out to her family. “Whereas,” one corner of her lips lifting higher than the other, “you knew not only who I was- but my family and family history. Unfair advantage. Like quoting poetry. There are some, Mr. Minister, that would call you a tease.” Herself chief among them. Actually she was sure that was all she’d called him since he’d left her staring at his back in the hallway yesterday. A tease no matter if the poem wasn’t meant to be anything of the sort, Annette had stared at her for nearly ten minutes with the most ridiculous expression on her face when she’d quoted it back to her. Mystified. It was less about the content of the poem so much as the it being poetry… coming from that face. After his lips had been on her hand.

Please, Mr.Wagner, ... or Marlon... I think the building is technically closed after all." her smile stretched again, appreciation lighting her eyes. she would be lying if she said she hadn't hoped for as much- Marlon was a good deal more interesting to say than ' Mr minister' repetitively. not to mention a damned sight less formal. and she was all there for informality- her lips twitching with the internal joke. "Excellent. I think its fairly easy to work a system out of that," lips pursing and pushing exaggeratedly to the side of her face as she pretended to think it over. "Liiiike- in the continued absence of your stuffed shirt," she teased- fingers gesturing to the brown sweater encasing his torso for emphasis- "you can remain Marlon." Her lips tilted, "and once you reclaim.it you can be Mr.Wagner. Or Mr.Minister." again the dimpling of her cheeks. "you know... Depending." On the setting and type of stuffed shirt. "so long as you don't go wearing a stuffed shirt when you see me outside of work it should be fullproof." The assumption was still uttered teasingly, though the actual implication was anything but. She couldn't flirt with the minister, Mikey had said- but they had all said he wasn't married so far as they knew- and pops had assured her that ministers were not, in fact, required by law to enter monkshood along with the office. "It is, my job to know your family, Ms.Wilde, and your history given that you work in this building, and obviously this building is my business." yes, el capitain ideed- expecting to know everyone by name and position in an outfit as large as this one...hell maybe his capacity for storing that information was abnormally large. Not that it was difficult to pass hers. she had already exhibited her lack of talent for for names, faces, and the combination of the two when it came to remembering them in any capacity. Had put clearly on display her lack of political aspiration and knowledge of current political officiates. Which given her present company was probably damning- but it was already out there. “I think we can dispense with the Ms too. So long as you’re Marlon- given we can’t follow quite the same rules for my level of dress but we can combine the two.” A wink accompanied her gesture of his clothing again, feet shifting slightly so that she could rest her hip more fully against the doorjamb, crossing her arms over her midsection. ”I’m not sure how any of that, could make me a ‘tease’, as you put it.” Her laugh was instant, eyes running over his face as if to ascertain that he was serious before the tilt to her lips changed. That was downright sexy, the look on his face coupled with the word tease from his mouth. Especially considering that his way of phrasing things was still in full effect. It was no wonder he’d won the office he resided in- shit if she’d listened to any speeches he might have made she was sure she wouldn’t have misplaced his name or face at all. “Actually I was referring to kissing a girls hand and reciting poetry only to leave her starting at your retreating back.” Not that that was a bad view either- broad shoulders and all. Bitch wasn’t about to start complaining about that- if anything her words were still lightly teasing. “I had thought I had to worry about being disarmed by the enemy- not my own minister.” Although he was welcome to do so again annnnny time.


“In the future?” She wasn’t sure just how direct he was used to being addressed, given his new title- or whether or not she was pushing boundaries even by being here at all. Not that she let it bother her overmuch, or paid shit kind of any attention to it at all. She was sure if she did cross a boundary he’d have some polite way of informing her of such- she may not have been overly familiar with the niceties he employed and seemed so well accustomed to himself, but she wasn’t a barbarian after all. Not really. Come Renaissance festival weekend for that though…. Her smile was easy, head tilting forward just slightly in half of a nod. “Yes. In the future.” Lips pulling up just that smallest bit further. Near future or otherwise. She hadn’t faced being tied up to a chair and given the Spanish inquisition for nothing after all- it wasn’t very often that she left her family home dressed up like this. Actually, it wasn’t very often she left any sort of home dressed like this. Aside from Ministry functions that she attended, the occasional date… which had been …. Well really absent as of late now that she thought about it. “Very well, if you insist.” She was hardly insisting, being so much less direct than she normally was- but it was refreshing, the easy rapport passing back and forth between the two of them. Interesting. Intriguing. She could list a shit load of words beginning with I apparently. “I do,” her rejoinder equally as pleased as her previous statement. The look on his face almost had her laughing outright, lips curving up even further. She wasn’t someone who didn’t smile regularly, actually it was rare of her not to be- but the amount with which her lips kept twitching up and transforming into a grin was actually beginning to hurt her jaw. Something that might have been annoying had she not been aware of the cause behind it, a pleasant sort of approval at the fact that he was just as appealing now as he had been the day before. Not that the setting was very different, but she could have been entirely mistaken over her interest for him given just how damn handsome he was. “Please, you don't have to hover.” Her ankles uncrossed from where they’d come to rest over one another, pushing herself a little further off of the door she’d been leaning against and looking to the space he was attempting to make amidst the mountains of paperwork he was immersed in speculatively. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company this evening, by the way? Stopped in on the way to....something?” Stopped in to see him. She didn’t have any other plans or places to be this time- she was absolutely certain that her brother’s were gathered around the television right now watching the movies that Annette had stumbled upon up in the attic- what she’d been doing up there only Merlin knew, hiding probably. Her smile curved up again with a roll of her shoulders. “Actually I came to see you.” She’d never been very good with the games most people played in order to move about socially.

TAGGED: Mr.Minister
OUTFIT: link
WORDS: numbers here.
NOTES: uhhh....
LYRICS: drops of jupiter by train.
CREDIT: abbi, or mrs.sherlock holmes @ atf!

[Marlon Wagner]

He knew she shouldn't be in here. A lot of the information surrounding his person was classified, and she shouldn't be allowed to see any of it. He knew that to be true, but he wasn't going to cover her face just because she might or might not see something. He didn't really think that was why she was here in the first place. Her eyes hadn't left him since she arrived, either she was really good, or she didn't care about the contents of this room, Given what little he did know about her, he was given to believe the latter. He pushed the documents closer together, stacking them less than perfectly as he made room for her. It would be difficult to sit on the floor in that dress, but the chairs were hopelessly gone. “Actually I came to see you.” Bemused, he chuckled again, it was very easy to do around her. “To see me?” his eyes lifted to hers, sinking back to rest on his heels “How dreadfully boring your day must have been.” his hand lifted to push a lock of hair back behind his ear “Though, I do suppose I ought to be more concerned with the fact that one meeting, and I'm already predictable enough to know my whereabouts? Suppose that makes me the boring one then,”

“No, I just figured a minister who went around passing out Christmas bonuses instead of assigning it to one of his many minions might possibly be on the overworked side.” He hardly considered it to be overworked, though he did know that a lot of people shared her point of view on the subject. He loved what he did, fully. He enjoyed his job, and even though he had yet to find a suitable replacement for his previous position, meaning that he was still effectively doing both jobs for the time being, was a little problematic. He was sure that Raelene would have been perfectly happy to go from floor to floor passing out the envelopes, and he had been forced to practically shoving her out of the office so that she could spend time away from here and relax as it was. He didn't need to call her back for something so silly, even though he knew she would have done it. She really was a wonderful secretary. “Do you ever actually leave your office?” His shoulders lifted modestly, “Perhaps not as much as would be considered healthy or acceptable.” he let his arms drop, giving up on sorting through the papers. “I do have a home, a wonderful home where I sleep...” saying it aloud like this, he knew how silly it sounded. He hoped that she didn't ask if he slept here, because he couldn't honestly say that he never had. At least all he was surrounded by now was HIS paperwork, instead of what had been here before. “The like of a Minister is a glamorous one,” his tone more on the sarcastic side but the smile never left his face. He noted her position, he couldn't imagine that she would want to still be here, with nowhere to sit and while he had been clearly busy. Though, he did like the comfort that she seemed to bring with her wherever she went. “I do hope this is not too presumptive, but I rather forward is sort of your motif operandi?” he shifted again, setting the papers in his hands down once more, his legs bent in front of him once again. “Do you like Quidditch?” he would assume so, most people did, it was a large source of illicit gambling on the floor she worked on anyway. “Supposing of course, you don't mind the press terribly, I am supposed to launch the first game of the season, in the coming weeks...first game of the year, I'll get box seats...”

“No, I would imagine not- how long have you been here today?” “Uhm, well...what time is it?” He looked up at his walls for the clock that was supposed to be there, but wasn't. He kept forgetting that he had changed offices. Glancing down at the bands on his wrist, eyes widening slightly at the hour. It was a lot later than he had thought that it was. Which, wasn't all that surprising, it was how he left here at eleven every night or later and didn't even notice until he heard the cleaning crew moving over the desks. His concept of time was fluid most days. “I arrived at five thirty this morning...” he spoke down to his watch more than anything else, feeling tired for as long as he was looking at the clock face, and rousing himself once he had torn his gaze away from it, and lowered his arm back down. “Longer than I had intended to be, anyway.” he smiled weakly, he was going to have his head bitten off...again. At least he didn't have to worry about that here, she didn't seem the biting type. “Like a date?” He nodded once, feeling slightly flushed, or warm..”Yes, I think, a date,” had he done it wrong? Had he been too forward? He knew he had only met her last night, really, and courting required time...and he didn't even know her well enough o properly know if he wanted to court her. She just, had a very pretty smile. His head dropped, letting her make up her mind without his staring at her, “It won't be as glamorous as I'm sure you've been afforded before, there will be a press statement or two, but I do think,” his head lifting again, stumbling only slightly with laughter in his words “it would be heaps more bearable if I had the company,” he cleared his throat. Clear, he needed to be clear. “Your company. Get to know one another a little better,”


Wearing

[Daniella Wilde]

-----------------------------------

CAUSE I JUST SET THEM UP JUST SET THEM UP TO KNOCK THEM DOWN,

I THINK I SHOULD KNOW HOW TO MAKE

LOVE TO SOMETHING INNOCENT WITHOUT LEAVING MY FINGERPRINTS

----------------------------------

"To see me?”Yes, to see him- that shouldn’t have really been a question all things considered, but then he didn’t really know her or how she went about things so it worked. The fact that he didn’t seem to be put out by the idea was actually comforting, considering how damn polite he was she wasn’t quite sure if he was just placating her when she flirted with him or if he even realized that she was. So much easier to just inform someone of your intentions and have them follow through with them- although then you were left with drunken renditions of slaughtered ballads on your ass rather than actual poetry. She found, rather surprisingly, that she preferred the latter. At least, she preferred the latter coming from tall blonde men in positions of authority apparently. “Yes,” her lips further moving upward at the confirmation. “How dreadfully boring your day must have been.” Boring? She’d been locked in a pantry for thirty minutes, but that was the only down time she’d gotten. The kids had all decided they wanted to do craft work so the kitchen was turned into a proverbial war zone with excited twins trying to convince their girlfriend that she really could just shove her hand in the jar of goo and pull it out to work it into something, Annette balancing a toddler on one knee and still managing to stay plastered to the lap of one of her boyfriends, and general mayhem coming from Aaron who hadn’t quite figured out how to get his fingers out of the Chinese trap. She didn’t think it had been boring at all- although she had admittedly considered coming here earlier several times throughout the day. That had less to do with the quality of it and more to do with the fine specimen of ass currently looking up at her though. Not that she was about to go off on another rant about her family, she’d done enough of that yesterday and had as point of fact found that men were very rarely interested in hearing about her brood of heathens as much as she thought about them. Instead her lips just twitched, smiling as if she was holding in some sort of private joke, which in some effect or another was true enough. “Though, I do suppose I ought to be more concerned with the fact that one meeting, and I'm already predictable enough to know my whereabouts? Suppose that makes me the boring one then. She chuckled lightly, shaking her head. “No, I just figured a minister who went around passing out Christmas bonuses instead of assigning it to one of his many minions might possibly be on the overworked side.” Her eyes drifting pointedly down to the papers he was still trying to move about. “Do you ever actually leave your office?”

“Perhaps not as much as would be considered healthy or acceptable.” She almost laughed again, that was the same sort of response her father had given so many times when people questioned him about the amount of time he spent in office. Albeit Marlon’s was much nicer than ‘I shit, shower, and shave at home. Most of the time.’ Which was really to say that he managed to make it home for an hour or two during the day for years on end, and even then it was usually rushed. She was more than familiar with men who practically lived out of their offices- her brother’s all had the same tendency right up until they got married. It was the sole reason she’d introduced Matty and Vivian in the first place. “No, I would imagine not- how long have you been here today?” If he’d even left the night before. Her eyebrow lifted, amused smirk lifting her lips. “I do have a home, a wonderful home where I sleep…” The laugh did escape then, full grin melding her lips upwards at his words. Well, at least he slept at home then, it could always have been worse. She’d pulled several nights in the office before- when there was a particular case that needed extra attention… or one that she just lost track of time with- but she didn’t do it nearly as often as her brothers. She could be a tom boy all she wanted but she fucking loved her bed with a fondness bordering on obsession. Both beds- at her family home and her apartment. Special mattresses with an excess of feather pillows, some old enough to have the feather stems poke through the fabric. But they were hers all the damn same. “The like of a Minister is a glamorous one. I do hope this is not too presumptive, but I rather forward is sort of your motif operandi?” Her head tilted slightly, trying to follow the shift in conversation with a small nod. That was one way to say it. Much nicer than being termed a blunt bitch like her brothers did. “Do you like Quidditch? Supposing of course, you don't mind the press terribly, I am supposed to launch the first game of the season, in the coming weeks...first game of the year, I'll get box seats...” She was sure that she looked overly goofy, the grin splitting her face was wide enough to physically make her cheeks ache with it. “Like a date?” She needed the clarification- to be damn sure and certain that he wasn’t just asking her as … well she didn’t think that politeness generally extended that far, but she did like to have her facts straight. The fact that if it was, he was asking her to a sporting event for a first fucking date was like a goddamn sign or something, quidditch even…

Uhm, well...what time is it?” Yeah, she’d guessed right at least, her lips pulling up even further as he looked down at the watch on his wrist, amusement twisting her features. “I arrived at five thirty this morning.. .Longer than I had intended to be, anyway.” But not longer than he had been here in the past- if she was still guessing as correctly as she felt that she was. Matty used to make jokes about how long he’d stay, Vivian putting an alarm in his office to let him know once he’d been there for too long. One alarm that had turned into three the longer that they’d been married. The warning alarm, the he needed to leave alarm, and the he was damn late and if he wanted to have sex in the next month to apparate home right then alarm. The entire family had laughed over it when he’d written- Dani sitting up on the couch to read it aloud as he’d requested. Sometimes she felt like if her mother had bothered to do all of that her parent’s marriage would have survived. But then she was reminded all over again that it wasn’t just his work that she had minded- but being a mother too. And to a man like her pops that would have never worked out, especially being that they already had so many children. In some ways she felt like it, other than the bastards that she called brothers, was the reason she didn’t date much. Unrealistic expectations when it came to actually dating as opposed to casual sex. She was good at having male friends, was good at having sex with said male friends even- but she was rarely looked at as more than one of the guys with a convenient set of tits. And it was something that she minded very little. Only she was still a damned girl, with her girly moments- not that she would admit such out loud. She did like the idea of flowers and actually waking up in bed with something other than one or all of her four animals looking at her like she’d overslept. It just seemed like any time she did actually try to date her brother’s hated the guy… or he couldn’t quite live up to the standards that said brothers and pops had set in her mind. Even assholes they were the best damn men she’d ever been around. It was, very honestly, the reason she had to check and make sure that Marlon was actually asking her on a date and not just suggesting that she go to some sporting event with her- she’d never actually been asked to go to a game as a date before- which now that she thought of it was a damned shame. ”Yes, I think, a date.” Her lips tilted further up, pleased that she’d been right. A date. To a quidditch game. With a man who could recite poetry as a farewell and kissed people’s hands. She had the strongest fucking urge to reach down and pinch his shoulder. “It won't be as glamorous as I'm sure you've been afforded before, there will be a press statement or two, but I do think it would be heaps more bearable if I had the company. Your company. Get to know one another a little better.” Aw fuck her face was splitting in half again, fingers pressing into her sides to keep from reaching out and double checking still. Glamorous? She wanted to laugh- a much more acceptable urge, one she gave into with a small shake of her head. “I’m not real big on glamor actually.” Not big on it at all. Hadn’t been afforded much of it either. Guys didn’t take guys with tits out on glamorous dates. “And I think I’ve already shown you my propensity to read the paper,” her eyes rolling at herself good naturedly. “So that won’t bother me at all.” And quidditch meant that he wouldn’t be wearing a stuffed shirt- would be, most likely, dressed even more casually than she’d seen him so far and she found that thought almost as appealing as his poetry. “So long as your sure it’s a date,” she teased, the corner of her lips twitching, “then I guess I won’t have to actually ask you out myself.”

TAGGED: Mr.Minister
OUTFIT: link
WORDS: numbers here.
NOTES: uhhh....
LYRICS: drops of jupiter by train.
CREDIT: abbi, or mrs.sherlock holmes @ atf!

[Marlon Wagner]

“I’m not real big on glamor actually.” His gaze washed over her as easily and quickly as he could. Given the sight of her, he would have expected different. She was a very handsome woman, and smiled easily. Intelligent, able to support herself, obviously, given the job she had. He couldn't see a single reason that she wouldn't be big on it. She said it like it was something that never happened to her, in his experience, women who didn't have anything to do with glamor...didn't dress like that. Wouldn't have even known how to. He certainly wasn't complaining, and he couldn't dare think of correcting her. “And I think I’ve already shown you my propensity to read the paper,” It was quite a large step, not that he wanted to make it sound as such, given that they would be photographed together, and while he would be able to press it off as just colleagues for awhile, the press would take anything that they could get their hands on. Even more so given Erich's latest promotion and his continued dislike for the man that he used to be able to call his best friend. At least that wouldn't bother her, whereas he was fairly certain, people looking for her, and constantly wanting her photograph might. It did most people. He felt like perhaps, he should warn her of such, warn her that it wasn't going to be easy...and that he couldn't ask a woman out on a date lightly, because of that fact. Still, his lips didn't move. He might have just been afraid of scaring her off. Then again, she seemed strong. He wouldn't doubt that of her. “So that won’t bother me at all.” He nodded once to himself. “So long as your sure it’s a date, then I guess I won’t have to actually ask you out myself.” His laugh was curt, but his smile genuine as he watched her smile, his own widening in response. “If that was why you were here, you should have said,” though, he was glad that she had allowed him to be the gentleman and offer first. He appreciated the gesture on her part, he was fairly certain that it was deliberate. Rising to his feet he moved around to the side of his desk nearly blocked by the massive chair with the over embossed golden 'M' on the high rise back, and shuffled slightly until he produced a ticket, for herself with the information. “For you then, seeing as if you back out, I would have no need for both of them.”

He could tell by the look on her face whenever he produced the tickets that she wouldn't be backing out, and he found himself...oddly pleased by that face. Her smile was so real, fit onto her face so nicely, he had a feeling that she smiled a lot. Which was certainly a good thing. He didn't have cause much to smile anymore, he didn't think. Not with all of the meetings, late hours and lack of sleep. The only reason he didn't currently have deep bags under his eyes was because of something Cammie had put onto his face while he had been passed out for his two hours last night before dragging himself in today. It was just so much easier to work in a settling like this, with no interruptions. “I don’t plan on backing out- who is it that your supporting in this upcoming match?” Again, he felt like that was a weighted question, there was clearly a right answer and a wrong one. Moving back in front of the desk, he checked one of the piles of paper to make certain that it wasn't going to topple over before allowing himself to lean against the edge of the desk, watching her expression carefully. He shouldn't take sides, he was the Minister, but of course he had a favorite. He had been a touched obsessed with the sport, once upon a time. It was just one of those hobbies that had fallen behind whenever he had decided to commit himself to his work. Whenever he picked up the hours, one hobby at a time had gone away. “Well, don't tell..but, seeing as I'm Irish, I will be supporting my home land in the match.” He would have to wear colors of both teams, to be fair. At least his press coordinator had said that was the right thing to do. He knew his accent marked him as English, but he never hid the fact that he was born in Southern Ireland. “And yourself?”

He shouldn't have been so busy watching her walk into the room. He shouldn't have been watching her so closely in any fashion. He didn't need to be spitting focus at this point in time, but he couldn't not. He had already asked her out, so that step had been taken...what was done was done. His eyes followed her hands and he didn't shy away until she pinched him. His eyes widened and he jerked to the side that she wasn't on, “Ow, what was that for?” Did she walk around pinching people? That might be slightly problematic if so. He didn't know why he had been pinched...he had been behaving. Perhaps she didn't like the way that he was looking at her? He wouldn't do it again, she could have just said... “Irish as well,” Nothing, no answer then, he didn't understand. Why no answer. His gaze lifted, pushing his hair back away from his face. “I would like an answer please,” he wanted to know if he had somehow made her uncomfortable, or acted out of turn whenever he shouldn't have. Still, she was beaming at him...it was very much mixed signals and he didn't know just how to say such without coming across strange or rude. His hand crossed over to rub at the spot she had just pinched, lips playfully turning downward “Stings a bit...” that should have brought the attention back to it. “Strong hands...” his gaze lifted, waiting for an answer.

Wearing

[Daniella Wilde]

-----------------------------------

CAUSE I JUST SET THEM UP JUST SET THEM UP TO KNOCK THEM DOWN,

I THINK I SHOULD KNOW HOW TO MAKE

LOVE TO SOMETHING INNOCENT WITHOUT LEAVING MY FINGERPRINTS

----------------------------------

She normally would have- asked him out herself that is. She normally would have already made a completely different sort of move or set of moves in his direction. She certainly wouldn’t have been fucking holding herself in a doorway and waited for him to be the first to make any sort of move. Then again, she normally didn’t get much past the set of moves that she executed. Usually didn’t care to. She liked fucking and she liked having friends- liked making new friends. The fact that she could combine the two, and very usually did, was just something that she’d come to accept. Didn’t question. The fact that she very much did not want him to see her as another one of the guys though, was very present. Very obvious in her own mind. She was in a gorram dress. And heels. With her hair done nicely and makeup on her face and she wasn’t even going anywhere else following this. Not that she could have shown up in jeans and a hoodie as she’d been wearing at home- but that was beyond this. “If that was why you were here, you should have said.” Her lips curved up again, shaking her head slightly in disagreement. “Maybe next time.” Her amusement clear in the way the apples of her cheeks rose. Maybe next time she’d make a joke about how his beard looked comfortable and set herself back to normal- make the roles more familiar to her. Somehow she doubted it though, and maybe that shouldn’t have sent her smiling even harder but it did. And fuck if she wasn’t going to be complaining later about how much her jaw hurt- or no, not that phrasing. Never that phrasing in her house. But he was making her smile even more than usual. Although the curling lips faltered as he stood- her eyes travelling up and back down again with a muted sort of appreciation. Merlin he was so tall. She was used to tall- it shouldn’t have been as big of a thing as it was. “For you then, seeing as if you back out, I would have no need for both of them.” Her back out? She laughed, taking the ticket and looking it over before depositing it into the pocket of her jacket- fingers brushing over the edge of it once before disappearing. “Oh?” So he wasn’t seeing anyone else then- that was a relief. Just because he was unmarried didn’t actually mean all that much in the long run. “I don’t plan on backing out- who is it that your supporting in this upcoming match?” Eyebrow raising.

It shouldn’t have mattered really- not when he was taking her on a fucking date to a quidditch match of all places. But it did. Because she couldn’t- not for anything in the world go on a date with a Chudley Cannons fan. No matter how blonde, well mannered, pretty, or even well versed. Not that he needed to support her team… necessarily. It was just that she did have a line that she tried to keep well fucking separate. Some teams could be tolerated. Others could not. So she may or may not have been waiting on edge for his answer, to determine just how she felt about the whole thing. Even if there was a part of her insisting that maybe her rules didn’t matter so much regardless… “Well, don't tell..but, seeing as I'm Irish, I will be supporting my home land in the match.” Well fuck. Her feet unconsciously took the two steps further into the room that put her completely in it for the first time since she’d arrived, her grin stretching her face almost completely in half and forcing her eyes to nearly squint up at him. Irish. He was a fan of the Irish. She could have cheered and it wouldn’t have made her excitement over it any more clear. “And yourself?” Her head tilted to the side, arm reaching out the space between them so that she could extend her thumb and index finger, pinching flesh and fabric between the two for a moment, pulling slightly as if to ascertain that it was- in fact- real. That he was in fact real. Well hell. No smoke or disappearing act. Must be a real boy then. “Irish as well,” as if that much was obvious- and maybe if he rounded her floor enough it would have been. The Irish were always the one to bet on, always the ones that she made certain to watch every game of- despite whether or not she could actually make the match itself or not.

She was going to pass over it- really saying that she was checking to see if he was a real boy seemed like it was inviting all sorts of different trouble. Not to mention questioning glances that he had so far kept to a minimum. She liked to think it was because he had a good threshold for her personality type- he seemed to be handling it well enough anyways, even if it was different than she was used. “I would like an answer please.” Or not… so much for that attempt. It didn’t stop the smile though, despite the fact that she was going to have to explain it one way or another. And seeing that she was the last of her siblings who could come up with a convincing story on the spot it was going to have to be some version of the truth at least. What version was as of yet undecided. “Stings a bit...” six brothers and a gaggle of nieces and nephews. She’d be damned if she didn’t recognize that fake pout face when she saw it. However- she would be a liar if she said that nine times out of ten it didn't actually managed to work on her. Why? Because she was a sucker for jutting lower lips and wide eyes apparently. “Strong hands...” Her grin lifted, shaking her head slightly as she addressed his earlier question. “Making sure you were a real boy,” her left lid closing into a wink as she settled back onto her heels, ignoring the flair of dramatics. “As for my hands I think the word you wanted to use was talented. But strong works just as well.”

TAGGED: Mr.Minister
OUTFIT: link
WORDS: numbers here.
NOTES: uhhh....
LYRICS: drops of jupiter by train.
CREDIT: abbi, or mrs.sherlock holmes @ atf!

[/blockquote][/font]

[Marlon Wagner]

Marlon couldn't remember the last time that he had been behaving this inappropriately. This was the very definition of unprofessional. She was technically his employee. Even if there were many, people working between the two of them. He knew he shouldn't be. Just because policy didn't forbid it, didn't mean that this was what he should be doing. Normally he was able to tell the different between the two things a little better. Able to conduct himself a little higher brow. He considered himself to be as such, sophisticated. This woman, Daniella, seemed to be putting him more at ease, keeping the years from weighing all that heavily on him without even trying. It was just, that smile. It made him want to smile. He hadn't felt like that in...years. Here he was, acting like a school boy in front of her, making a big deal out of something so simple as a pinch. There had to be something wrong with him. “Making sure you were a real boy,” His eyes widened a little. She couldn't be serious. Could she? He was the Minister, of course he was a real boy. A very real, very accomplished boy. Man. He was a man. His eyes narrowed inquisitively in her direction, wondering the real reasoning behind it, but he didn't as a secondary question. “As for my hands I think the word you wanted to use was talented. But strong works just as well.” He wasn't sure how talented would apply to pinching somebody but he nodded along with her words anyway, refusing to take them as anything other than words. He couldn't not in his office. That part of him wasn't even allowed in this room. He didn't have time for things like that. Though, he supposed, somehow only ten minutes ago, he had just carved time out for her. He wasn't even going to have gone to that Quidditch match. Had thought that he wouldn't have had time, he could have taken Cammie, technically, but he hadn't even wanted to go....and now he did. Strange.

“Well then… I’ll see you in a bit.” He knew that he had given her leave to well, leave, but a small part of him hadn't really been expecting her to leave. He didn't stop her, but he did watch her leave, and felt guilty for every moment of it. He had no right to be leering at her small waist like that....or any of the other things that he had been leering at. Marlon sank back down to the floor and pulled a pile of documents onto his lap, but he wasn't able to read a single line...not for a good ten minutes. Then the work settled over him, shifting back into business mode by will power alone. He would have much rather sat there and thought about the slope of her calves to her ankles, the cut of her dress...but he had deadlines. He had business to attend to. Now that he had already made follow up plans with her, he could stop thinking about her every few minutes. It would certainly make him a great deal more productive. He never had a good feel for time whenever he started working, just let himself dive into it and move. He was a proficient reader, moving over the documents with ease, had managed to clear half of one side of the little circle he had made for himself whenever she had returned. Not that he knew she had returned. He didn't even notice her for a good few moments until the smell of food forced him to look up. Apparently he was hungry by the way that his stomach grumbled. He hadn't even realized...his eyes moved over the scene. How long had she been standing there? Had she just been there the whole time? No, she had food. Not possible. It was taking his mind longer than it should have to switch between tasks as he shifted in his seat on the floor, and reconsidered, standing. His hand moved to his stomach with another grumble. Alright, food...and coffee too. That couldn't hurt could it. He would still get everything he needed done. A break was good for the brain. He knew that. Technically. “There's a break room, I feel would be better suited for dining...” he wouldn't really know, he didn't really ever spend much time in there. Not since he had started anyway, not since he had upgraded the coffee maker, his hand extended toward the other end of the hallway. “Let me take those, it's the least I can do”


Wearing

[Daniella Wilde]

-----------------------------------

CAUSE I JUST SET THEM UP JUST SET THEM UP TO KNOCK THEM DOWN,

I THINK I SHOULD KNOW HOW TO MAKE

LOVE TO SOMETHING INNOCENT WITHOUT LEAVING MY FINGERPRINTS

----------------------------------

She’d gotten what she came here for, had the tickets tucked into the purse held underneath her arm now- she could very easily leave now. Knew that she probably should, but her eyes ran over his face, eyes narrowed as though searching for something before she nodded just once, her lips tilting slightly at his refusal to reply to the obvious innuendo in her words. She wasn’t used to having things like that ignored- wasn’t used to any of this really, but it was amusing at the very least. Her ankles uncrossed slowly, the sudden blinding grin that crossed her lips out of place in the moment of silence that had descended in the office, her heels clacking as she took a step back- and then another. “Well then… I’ll see you in a bit.”As far as goodbyes went it was more than a little hasty- more of an announcement than anything else as her actual departure came just on the heel of those words, her body turning and dipping out of the doorway as her feet made steady pace across the stone flooring. It wasn’t exactly out of character for her, not really, to disappear like that. She had a habit of breaking into a conversation with her goodbye and following through with it- it was something that could very honestly be attributed to her father, the way he ended his phone calls was usually a very abrupt ‘well I’m done talking now bye.’ Something she’d inherited the most out of all of her siblings. It wasn’t rude- or at least didn’t stem from any desire to be so- it was just… habit, personality, whatever. And it wasn’t as if she was actually leaving long term at the moment. Just because she hadn’t appraised him of her plans- well the thought didn’t even occur to her until she was leaving the main floor of the ministry, pushing out into the biting cold of the weather outside of the main entrance and pulling her coat tighter around herself as she glanced around, barely taking in the people milling about before setting off down the right side of the pavement, the route obviously familiar to her. As it should be considering how often she was in this area. She wasn’t above travelling a good way for a decent meal- thankfully there were quite a few options within walking distance though… more than enough for her to choose from. Again it occurred to her, rather late, that she should have asked if he had any particular preference in food- but she was already entering the side door leading off of the street, ducking beneath the colorful streamers that were hung up just inside of the door and grinning at the lack of the line coming from the register- it paid to know where the best hole in the wall food could be located. Although admittedly recently it seemed that someone somewhere in her department had let it slip and the lines during lunch hour could be seen even outside of the door at times. Fucking Booth.

It wasn’t twenty minutes later, her arms laden with more bags than were probably necessary, that she was making her way back up into the building, not bothering to pause outside the door this time – the toe of her shoe pushing it open enough for her to take that first step inside of it, arms lifting to display the bags held in the crooks of both arms. “I’m taking it you haven’t eaten.”Less of a question as a noted fact, her lips pulling up further as he looked up from what he’d been doing, the sound of his hunger just barely reaching her ears. Cute. Not that she'd worried about being wrong, fuck, he'd been here more than long enough to be fucking starving- and it was the holiday season. She didn't believe in going hungry on a normal day, much less during cheer time and shit. She stood silently for the few moments he took to look around him- and she had to wonder if he was trying to figure out the situation or if he was tired. Either way, it definitely looked like he needed a break. Although she had to admit that even if he hadn't she'd probably have tried to find some excuse to come back up here anyways- this just made it more so. She liked feeding people. Fuck that sounded off, but it was the truth. She'd spent almost all of her life making sure that people were fed and got the right amount of sleep and such- taking care of them, though the way she did it for her friends versus her siblings were two totally different things completely. Merlin forbid that the words 'take care of' be used around some of the former “There's a break room, I feel would be better suited for dining...” Her answering grin stretched wide over her lips, brow raising to accompany the short nod of understanding. She knew the room he was talking about well enough. Well enough to get there anyways. “Let me take those, it's the least I can do” Her shoulders rolled in a carefree half-shrug, extending one arm so that she could transfer some of the bags to his hand. Not the kung-pow chicken, she knew for a fact that the containers containing that were in her other arm. A fact, and containers, because she'd ordered a triple order of them just in case he decided he wanted some for himself. “I don't mind you helping carry them.” Although she certainly didn't hand all the food over to him, another stretching of her lips as she backed out of the door and turned without any further ado, her heels clicking down the corridor as she made her way to the aforementioned break room. “I just went out on a limb here and assumed you like Chinese,” she threw over her shoulder, cheeks dimpling at the accompanying grin she flashed him with the words. Everyone liked Chinese. At least in her experience.

Not liking Chinese made absolutely no sense. Who the fuck didn't like eggrolls? Her form passed easily through the doorway, hitting the lights with her shoulder expertly before she moved around to the table stretching in the center of the room, sliding the bags off of her still occupied arm and a more gentle placement of the coffee she'd brought before she slid unceremoniously into one of the open seats, her hands already going to work on pulling the containers out of the bags and setting them out in the center of the table. “You do like Chinese right?” Her eyes shifting up to him as she shoved the bags inside of one another with a raised brow.

TAGGED: Mr.Minister
OUTFIT: link
WORDS: numbers here.
NOTES: uhhh....
LYRICS: drops of jupiter by train.
CREDIT: abbi, or mrs.sherlock holmes @ atf!

[Marlon Wagner]

Marlon rose semi-awkwardly to his feet. Hadn't even realized that one of his feet was totally numb. He had been sitting, working diligently without even pausing to think about himself. His mouth was dry and terribly stiff all over. Really, a break was long past due. He worked too much. He knew that he did, and he couldn't help himself. He was dedicated. He was of the mindset that was supposed to be a good thing. Reaching an arm out to her he lifted the bags from her arm carefully, pushing them onto his own wrist and reaching for a few of the bags that she hadn't offered to him without thinking. He was larger, it was no issue to carry them all. There were....far too many to feed the two of them. This seemed to be enough food to feed the entire floor if it was fully staffed, from the looks of it. The smells were impossible to pick out from one another. “I don't mind you helping carry them.” He smirked to himself, but kept silent. He was fairly certain that he did mind, or else she would have offered all of them to him. But, that wasn't for him to say. She was already walking around the floor like she knew the place, heading right for the break room without having to be asked or lead and he just followed, trying to be a gentleman and not look at the way her dress hugged her hips, keeping his gaze fixed on the back of her head. Last thing he needed was for her to turn around abruptly, and end with a bag of food squished between them and into the carpet. “I just went out on a limb here and assumed you like Chinese,” He laughed softly, taking longer strides to move in front of her to back the door open to the break area before she got a chance to do it herself, that was a point of pride. He hadn't met anybody who didn't like Chinese, and he had a very soft spot for the cuisine. Granted, he had yet to find an establishment that could prepare it as well as he could, he was willing to give it a shot. He had been given lessons during his time in chine from two of the most aggressive little women, he liked to think he took their lessons to heart. Added to the list of things that would have made him too arrogant to say.

He followed her to the center table, and artfully placed the bags on the table, and softly began unloading each of the bags contents equally spaced, not on purpose, just did. Eyebrow lifting at how she was dumping them on the table. She wasted no time...he shouldn't have been so worried, with how his stomach was tightening at just the smell of food. When had he eaten last? He was sure he knew...hadn't he just been thinking about it even? He couldn't remember. There was a food cloud wrapping around his head. “You do like Chinese right?” “It was a safe bet,” he compromised, wadding the empty bag into a tight ball and tossed it easily into the waste bin, not even bothering to look at it clearly. “It's nearly my favorite,” he admitted, moving over to pull a chair out for her, hoping that the gesture wasn't going to embarrass her somehow. That wouldn't be what he wanted. Absolutely not. Moving to sit back just across from her and pulling a pair of chopsticks out of the little plastic wrapper he lifted his eyes to her, controlling himself. He wanted to gorge on the food. It just wouldn't be very proper of him, and therefore, his stomach was just going to have to wait. Snapping the sticks apart, he rested his forearms against the table, “I wasn't expecting you to return so swiftly,” he had thought that she would have left to go home, be with that expansive family of hers. Holidays had to be a lot more entertaining with that many people around. Yet, she was spending time here, in an empty office, her place of work, with him. Her boss. Her boss' boss. And then some he thought. He could get cocky, knowing something like that.

Instead, he was going to eat. Pulling the closest container toward him. No plates, so he assumed that they were going to be on a passing system. He couldn't remember the last time that he had shared a meal with anybody outside of his own family, actually. Given that he was so busy he was usually eating alone in his office. He paid for the meals of others frequently with the intent of joining them, he just...always found reasons not to. Which, was a whole other issue. “I'm glad of the company,”

Wearing

[Daniella Wilde]

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CAUSE I JUST SET THEM UP JUST SET THEM UP TO KNOCK THEM DOWN,

I THINK I SHOULD KNOW HOW TO MAKE

LOVE TO SOMETHING INNOCENT WITHOUT LEAVING MY FINGERPRINTS

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She loved Chinese, really, although to be perfectly fair she really loved food in general. Thai food, Mexican food, Polish food, Italian food, the mixed whatever food- just food. Takeout, home-made, premade... food. Food was food and it was more than marginally important that it taste good as well- something that she was very fucking good at making sure was the case. Because she liked- loved, fucking loved eating. Food struck like a fancy... or should be bought on what it was one was fancying at the moment anyways. And Chinese was always in season, no matter the time of year or situation. Especially for a good deal of food without breaking the bank, another thing that she was fucking as well versed as one could be in. Buying food for twenty plus people, children and man children included, on even a semi-regular basis on a budget that wasn't super extended to begin with meant knowing how to make shit stretch and how to ensure that you got as much as was possible for that bottom buck. Her chin lifted in order to flash him an over-large grin as he moved past her to open the door- like a honest to god gentleman- something she wasn't sure was ever going to not fucking surprise her, unsurprisingly what with the company she kept. Marlon was all cultured and mannered and shit. It was nice. It was... different. And attractive. Damned attractive, she corrected herself as she slid past him into the room- settling herself easily enough into the chair as he followed, heels slipping off beneath the table so that she could curl her legs into the chair under her- her fingers closing around the containers within the bag and removing them in no particular order. She wasn't picky about what she started with. So long as she got a little bit of everything she wouldn't fucking complain, she had never- in the entire history of her life- managed to eat an entire container on her own. Not because she couldn't pack that shit down. On the contrary she ate more than several containers worth in one sitting. No. It was just that there was no such thing as keeping any specific item to oneself in the household she came from. Or the friends she kept. Or the friends her friends kept. A vicious fucking cycle if anything. Not that she minded sharing. Especially not sharing with someone who looked like that who also quoted poetry, kissed hands, and held doors open. And rooted for the Irish. Important fucking factor right there. It was- nice. The word didn't do the feeling justice but anything else seemed even more idiotic in place of it. “It was a safe bet.” A satisfied nod as she unloaded the last container onto the table and shoved her hand into the bag to feel around for the plastic utensils and napkins. That's exactly what she had thought. Safe. And tasty.

She barely held back from snorting at the direction her thoughts took that little bit of vocabulary, fingers finally extricating the last of the 'silverware' and dumping it unceremoniously between the two of them, before going back for the last straggling napkins. “It's nearly my favorite,” Poetry. Door opening. Smooth talking. Intelligent. Irish supporter. Quidditch fanatic. And a Chinese food lover. If she kept adding to this list she wasn't sure she could continue to convince herself that he was actually a real person. Didn't seem right. Or fair. Had to have a shit ton of flaws that he used all of that as cover for. Like a night chills, sweater person. Or a really, really tiny penis- although, her eyes roving appreciatively over his form, not bothering to be covert about it- if he were proportional she just didn't see how that was fucking possible. OR maybe he was one of those that had some other, more terrifying secret. Possibly still worth it though. “I wasn't expecting you to return so swiftly,” Her form shifted again, leaning more into the side of the chair as she swiveled her body to more directly face him. Like she was going to let someone go hungry on a holiday. Like she was going to honestly pass up an opportunity to spend more time with him. As if. She copied his movements with the opening of the chopsticks, although her own arms were straightening and not bending directly following, pulling a container to her at random and opening it with one hand- barely having to look down to do so- which should have hinted at the frequency with which she did this. Nothing to be ashamed of at least. She could think of any number of other things that should inspire more of an embarrassed nature- although, she could think of equally as high a number that should that didn't with her... Something to, however unlikely, examine later. “Mmm, there's a little hole in the wall- couple blocks down. Chinese immigrants or something opened it up about a year or two ago and being that it's fairly close.” Intentionally misunderstanding his meaning- the glint in her eye all too telling as she popped the paper lid open finally- fingers twisting up over the ends of the chopsticks to dig into the egg noodle mixture therein. Really fucking good food. Really fucking cheap. That was her shit- sticks digging into the noodles and pulling a bite that barely looked as if it would fit within her mouth out- her head dipping before she opened her teeth- passing the large bundle through effortlessly and leaning back further in her chair- already chewing- the small hum of relief vibrating her vocal chords even as she dug the chopsticks back in for more.

“I'm glad of the company,” It shouldn't have been possible for her to grin around that big a mouth of food- especially without opening her mouth and flashing him what the twins would call the sea-food diet plan. But she was and she did- dimples pushing her cheeks out before she finally swallowed. Glad of the company. Well... so was she. “Good.” Cheeky grin this time as she twirled the noodles onto the two sticks. “Because it would suck for you to just be fuckin' stuck with it.” Not that she intended to force herself on him or anything, another twitch to one side of her lips before she took another bite, chewing just as quickly this time before she opened her mouth again. “I take it, from what I've seen, that you spend more time here than out?” Which was a damn shame. A man like him wasting away behind piles of paperwork... well, not wasting away, obviously. And obviously doing good work. Fighting the good fight and all of that fuckery. That being said she spent a lot of time in the building and doing the work that came from being employed there. But something told her it wasn't nearly the same number of hours. 

TAGGED: Mr.Minister
OUTFIT: link
WORDS: numbers here.
NOTES: uhhh....
LYRICS: drops of jupiter by train.
CREDIT: abbi, or mrs.sherlock holmes @ atf!
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[Marlon Wagner]

Christmas Eve

What a Christmas dinner this was – Chinese food in a almost too silent break room. Not typical, but he really shouldn't have been here. He knew for a fact that her large family had to of been waiting for her, and she had no doubt had a very large dinner earlier tonight, yesterday technically now, if he had his hour correctly. Judging by her small frame, there really was no reason for her to still be hungry. One would have assumed that she hadn't eaten for days by the satisfied noises that left her lips around the large chunk of food. It was almost disgusting, the way she just shoveled it into her mouth. Shouldn't have been able to fit that much in there, realistically. Only she was doing it. He couldn't help but staring and if she noticed that he was, his jaw slackened as he watched the spectacle unfolding. If she could keep that pace up, she should have been a circus act. Apparently they weren't serving portions. Not that he had noticed a plate but he was pulling a container closer to his person, with much smaller amounts on his chopsticks. Shouldn't have bothered, she wasn't and he was starving. Something that he never really noticed until the smell of hot, fresh food was wafting around. Shaking his head at the unapologetic look on her face he took a few bites – and she was right, it was incredible. He would have to get the name for it, or tell her that maybe they would have to look into making more regular runs. Depending of course, on how things ended up going over the next few weeks. He couldn't assume this to be a date – Marlon quite honestly, would have known what to do with a date anymore. Had been 'out' of the scene for so very long.

“Good.” Marlon's nose crinkled at the sight of the food half chewed in her mouth, pushing into her cheeks as she smiled. She had just a pretty face – and this only served in his opinion that her mouth was foul. On more than one front now. “Because it would suck for you to just be fuckin' stuck with it.” He grinned, reaching forward for a spring roll, he had always been more partial to them than the egg rolls. Didn't seem as fried to him, which of course was silly because he knew exactly how they were made. “I take it, from what I've seen, that you spend more time here than out?” He didn't want to answer that, it was humiliating, how much time he spent here, “You could say that,” vague, which felt a little too close to a lie this early in whatever this was. “But you clearly run odd hours yourself,” which was also half true, he knew she was here tonight to see him, so he had to be meaning last night. “Just sneaking out of the house whenever all is quiet?” He didn't imagine her leaving things whenever she might be needed. Didn't even know if she lived there or not. Would have to find out. Over the course of their dinner, conversation fall easily, the hour passing far too quickly and somehow – all of the containers emptied before Dani wished her a very merry last bit of Christmas, and took his almost painfully swollen stomach back to his office, needing to finish up quickly now more than ever. Get he and his belly, back to sleep.

Wearing