danish distraction || [SVEN]

[FALLON SUZETTE ARCHIBALD]

Fallon peered over the top of the parchment, looking at the man that was sitting across the desk from her. He seemed nervous, the way he kept fidgeting his hands and adjusting himself in his chair. These things would no go unnoticed by the department head. He reached up to brush a bead of sweat from his forehead and that was when she felt the smallest semblance of a smile settling in the corners of her lips, ”You know it’s completely against our policy.” She breathed, setting down the parchment on the desk. She watched as the man’s back went stiff against his chair.

He didn’t say anything. What could he say? What could he possibly have left to tell her? Everything was contained within this letter...A heart-felt writing from one of Cairo’s correspondents detailing the dangerous conditions for half-creatures and creatures alike within their country. Deplorable, really. Not that it tugged on Fallon’s dark heart-strings, ”I’m sorry, but there’s nothing that we can do for you at this present point in time.” Perfectly manicured fingernails pressed into the letter as she slid it across the desk and then rose to her feet, ”Send my regards to Cairo, won’t you?”

Fallon Archibald did not wait for an answer, instead, she walked around the desk and opened the door to her office, desperate for some fresh air. The tension had been stifling.

Walking down the hallway, her heels clicked against the marbled surface of the floor. She slowed her pace when she reached her secretary's desk, ”I won’t be making it to my 1 o’clock, push it back to 1:15. I’d like a few reports on the conditions in Cairo.” She spun slightly, ready to make her way down the hall again when she realized she had forgotten something, ”And make sure that he gets out of my office. Clean it, too. He was sweating like a bloody pig.” She gripped the bridge of her nose and then stalked off in the opposite direction.

Desperate for a danish - perhaps that was what had her all strung out. Fallon rarely started out a day at work without her pastry. Lost deep in the recesses of her thoughts about pastries, Fallon hardly noticed when she shouldered into a passerby. It wasn’t until a voice infiltrated her thoughts with a gruff tone that she turned slightly, ”Apologies,” The word was thick and oozing with sarcasm, ”Pastries on the mind.” Her green eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she stared at the person whom she had apparently insulted.

[Deleted]

Sven stood abruptly from where he had been seated behind his desk, and stretched. There was only so long one could sit cramped behind a desk for before the need for activity took over, and the idea of a brisk walk felt immensely appealing. He had completed the rather lengthy report he had been working on for the better part of the week, so a break was well deserves. Besides, as Head of the Department, there really wasn't anyone around to tell him otherwise.

He headed out of the department and towards the one thing that could draw his attention - coffee and food. He took a letter that had arrived on his desk while he'd been working along with him, and curiosity about what it contained outgrew him, so he opened it as he headed along the corridor. He skimmed the words on the page, paying little attention to the rest of the corridor - he had little need to. It was  a walk he was more than familiar with, and anyone need simply get out of his way.

His shoulder make contact with that of another person and he turned, instantly defensive. "You mind?" It wasn't until the words were out of his mouth that he caught sight of the woman that stood there, and his gaze narrowed ever so slightly. 

”Apologies. Pastries on the mind.”

Pastries... He glanced in the direction he had been headed then back up the corridor. "Huh..." He'd missed his turn in, it seemed. Perhaps he didn't have these corridors as well memorized as he though, or perhaps he could simply blame it on being distracted by the content of the letter he'd been reading. "Perhaps I should thank you for pointing out I'm not walking the wrong direction." He motioned back the way he had come. "Pastries, you say?"

[FALLON SUZETTE ARCHIBALD]

”You mind?”

They stood there staring at one another in the middle of the corridor for what seemed like a very long time. Fallon watched him narrow his eyes at her and she followed suit, immediately feeling as if she was being put on the offensive; her hands clenched into fists at her side, but no sign of struggle appeared in the lines of her face. Who was he trying to stare her down? That was normally her job!

He seemed to grunt and then went quiet for a moment and Fallon was suddenly possessed with the inclination to wave her hand in front of his glazed over eyes. Who was this idiot that couldn’t seem to find his words? He looked mildly familiar to her, but she couldn’t quite place a name to the face...or a department for that matter. Perhaps he was a secretary - that was probably most likely.

”Perhaps I should thank you for pointing out I’m walking the wrong direction.”

”I’ll just take that as an apology for your rudeness,” Fallon breathed, reaching up to push a piece of her dark hair behind her ears, ”You’re headed toward my wing. International Magical Co-Operation.” She raised her eyebrows at him, wondering just how long he had been working here not to know where he was going.

”Pastries - yes.” She nodded toward the lift on the far end of the corridor. What was she doing? She didn’t particularly want him to come along, she enjoyed being alone too much. But here he was, looking like an idiot standing in the middle of the corridor staring at her. What else was she supposed to do? Sure, she had been known to be excruciatingly rude, but she also knew that social interactions were an important part of networking, ”In my opinion they’re the only proper way to begin a day.” She looked down at her watch and sighed, it was already noon - far past time for her morning ritual, but sometimes she just got so caught up with what she was doing, ”Reception keeps a few downstairs behind the desk and if we’re lucky we can steal a few. I’m on a tight schedule, though. Meeting with the Head of the Department of Mysteries at one fifteen.”

Fallon wasn’t one to steal things from around the Ministry, but wherever these Reception pastries came from, she needed them. They were the perfect blend of flakey croissant and fruit filling, ”Would you like to-” She swirled her finger around toward the elevator.

[Deleted]

”I’ll just take that as an apology for your rudeness,”

Sven bit back a short laugh. "My rudeness? Yet here I thought you were equally as guilty of not watching where you were going as I?" He noticed his accent starting to show through, and once he was aware of it, made a conscious effort to disguise it.

”You’re headed toward my wing. International Magical Co-Operation.” 

"Indeed," So he was. He'd been so absorbed in reading his letter that he'd mis-judged the distance to the turning he needed to take, and lo and behold, he was heading for Co-Op. That wasn't going to be particularly helpful in getting him a caffeine fix, that was for sure. "I'm sure I won't find any decent caffeine there." Office coffee was terrible, no matter what department you went into. It was just one of those things; offices simply couldn't brew a decent drink. 

”Pastries - yes. In my opinion they’re the only proper way to begin a day. Reception keeps a few downstairs behind the desk and if we’re lucky we can steal a few. I’m on a tight schedule, though. Meeting with the Head of the Department of Mysteries at one fifteen.”

"You're meet-" Wait, what? All those things she'd said about pastries and reception and things went straight out of him mind, and a bemused expression crossed his face. "I'm afraid you must be mistaken. The Head of the Department of Mysteries already has an appointment at one o'clock." And the 'Head of the Department of Mysteries' certainly didn't recognize this particular woman whom he was supposedly meeting with. Was this her attempt to make herself sound important? Making up this meeting idea to make it sound as if she was somebody? She was probably just a secretary in Co-Op, a little else, but it was still amusing to him that, of all the department heads she could lie about meeting, she'd pick his, and in fact, him. Oh, the irony. She didn't even know who he was, that was clear.

”Would you like to-” 

"Why not?" And pass up the chance to hear more about her supposed meeting she was going to? Ha, this should be good. He started walking in the direction of the elevator. 

[FALLON SUZETTE ARCHIBALD]

Ms. Archibald noticed the smallest hint of an accent in his voice although she couldn’t quite place it, ”It’s it a man’s job to make sure that he doesn’t trample over ladies with his large frame?” Her eyes traveled from his head to his toes and back up again, smirking ever so slightly. He was a large man, towering over her. Immediately she banished the malicious grin from her lips and pressed them back together.

”I’m sure I won't find any decent caffeine there.”

Fallon was mildly insulted by his statement - didn’t he know who he was talking to? ”Well of course you won’t find any of that horrible coffee they drink on level six-” Fallon hated having coffee in her wing. She was more partial to tea. Brewed in the morning by her secretary, her cup was replenished throughout the day, ”International Co-Op does tea. Goes over better with the foreigners.” She muttered.

”I’m afraid you must be mistaken. The Head of the Department of Mysteries already has an appointment at one o’clock.”

She looked over at him with a dangerous side-eye and placed her hands on her hips, pressing her nails into her side. He had to be the Head’s undersecretary, there was no way that he would be so idiotic otherwise. Did he have the Head of the Department of Mysteries’ schedule all mapped out in that pea-sized brain of his? Honestly! She felt her lips pursing and combatted it with a very forced and very stiff smile, ”Well he did have an appointment at one. Had to be pushed back to one fifteen given recent circumstances.” And lack of decent pastries on this floor. She wasn’t about to let some know-it-all Russian secretary tell her what she did or did not have to do today, ”It would serve you well to stay one step ahead.” She offered advice to the administrative staffer and looked him up and down.

She didn’t have time for this; Fallon had already started walking toward the lift when she realized what he had said - he was coming with her.

”Why not?”

He began walking in the same direction and Fallon had to physically restrain herself from rolling her eyes. How much this reminded her of her Hogwarts days when she led around a merry band of Slytherin minions to do her bidding. Maybe she could even use secretary boy to distract reception while she snagged them a few of the danishes.

Stepping into the lift, she used her right hand to hold the door open for him, keeping her eyes neatly trained on his walk toward the door. When he finally got it, she smashed the button for eight - the Atrium. Silence settled for a moment as the elevator jerked to their left and then rocketed upward.

[Deleted]

”It’s it a man’s job to make sure that he doesn't trample over ladies with his large frame?”

Sven raised an eyebrow, a look of amusement crossing his face. And was she looking him over now? Was she trying to imply he was 'large'? Bigger than her, certainly, and he was taller, too. Years of fighting and honing his strength had helped bulk up his muscles, too. "If ladies don't want to be trampled, then perhaps they should try harder to stay out of the path of potential tramplers." They could have this argument all day if they wanted to, and it would get them nowhere. It seemed they were each as stubborn as the other. 
 
”International Co-Op does tea. Goes over better with the foreigners.” 

"Ah, yes. Tea. Such a shockingly English thing." Yet tea didn't originate in England, nor was it something that wasn't found in many forms elsewhere in the world. It had it's own traditional standing in other countries, yet there was something about tea that people deemed as being British... "I don't suppose you offer crumpets, too?" A hint of sarcasm slipped though into his tone and he fought to hide a smirk.

Clearly, this woman didn't like being told she was wrong. Perhaps she wasn't making up the appointment, but instead worked directly underneath the Head of the Department - a secretary to the Head... They were, after all, supposed to keep track of the Head's schedule and ensure they attended all their meetings. This woman, no doubt, didn't like being told that her schedule knowledge was wrong.

”Well he did have an appointment at one. Had to be pushed back to one fifteen given recent circumstances. It would serve you well to stay one step ahead.”

"It would appear that that message was never passed along to him, so the Head of the Department of Magical Co-Operation should expect to see the Head of the Department of Mysteries at promptly 0ne pm." Only, he wouldn't be there at one, because it was almost one o'clock now, and he was agreeing to walk in the opposite direction and head to the opposite floor. He considered changing his mind and heading back towards Co-Op, just to stubbornly prove his point, but this woman was keeping him entertained with her stick-in-the-rear attitude. 

Ultimately, he decided to go for the lift. His battle was with this woman, not the Head of the Department, and if this woman hadn't done her job properly... well, that wasn't the Head's fault, was it? He made no hurry to catch up to her and the lift quickly, just regained his usual pace, a slight amused smirk settled on his face, knowing that it would just annoy her further that he wasn't racing after her, caving to her beck and call. Not a chance, sweetheart.

The lift left with a jolt and headed for the Atrium, and the journey was one of silence between them - an amusing one, as far as he saw it. After a minute, the lift juddered to a stop and the door opened. Sven stepped out, taking in the busy hustle and bustle taking place. He glanced back at the woman with a raised eyebrow. "After you." She wanted the pastries, after all.

[FALLON SUZETTE ARCHIBALD]

”Oh, chivalry is most certainly murdered and here I stand before the slayer,” She breathed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose. Whoever this gentleman was, he had already wormed his way onto her mental list of people that she would gladly push down the stairs given the opportune moment.

”Ah, yes. Tea. Such a shockingly English thing. I don’t suppose you offer crumpets, too?”

Her green eyes settled on his mouth where she could see his lips twitch ever so slightly. Merlin, he was so smug! She was going to have a serious talk with the Head of the Department of Mysteries about his undersecretary. Honestly, she didn’t have time for people like this...even if he was right about the crumpets and furthermore about the stereotypical nature of her choices. Fallon had always wanted to make Co-Op a source of proper British culture, especially when there were people from all over the world ducking in and out of the wing, ”Crumpets are overrated.” She breathed and immediately removed her gaze from his lips. There was a slight twinge of pink on her cheeks, but she immediately turned her head to the side to hide any sign that she was indeed embarrassed.

”It would appear that that message was never passed along to him, so the Head of the Department of Magical Co-Operation should expect to see the Head of the Department of Mysteries at promptly one pm.”

”Well then it looks like the Head of the Department of Mysteries is going to be in for quite the wait.” She spat back at him and then folded her arms across her chest. There was something so irking about this gentleman - she wasn’t sure if she wanted to slap him in the face or march herself right over to the Department of Mysteries and have a chat with the Head just to ensure that he was fired for his rudeness.

The silence in the elevator was stifling and rather unsettling to the woman. The silence left nothing for her to do, except looking over at the man to make sure that he wasn’t going to try and attack her from the opposite side of the tiny lift. As soon as she was satisfied that he wasn’t moving, she would return her gaze to the front and then the whole cycle would begin again. Stare at the wall - back at the man - break eye-contact and then repeat.

“After you.”

Fallon’s eyes immediately snapped upward as she realized the doors had opened to reveal the busy Atrium. It was lunch time, no surprise that there was far more traffic than normal. Stepping out of the elevator, her eyes adjusted to the new light. She walked in the direction of the security and reception desk where a mousy looking gentleman was checking the wands of visitors, ”Watch and learn. I distract. Pastries under the left side of the desk.” She turned to mouth to him as she moved past the line of visitors and grinned at the man at the desk, ”Erich!” Turning on the charm, she began idly chit-chatting with him, hoping that her new-found ‘friend’ could pull through.

[Deleted]

”Oh, chivalry is most certainly murdered and here I stand before the slayer,”

Sven smirked. "Chivalry has been long lost. If women insist on being treated as equals then chivalry becomes mute." They couldn't have it both ways, after all. They couldn't demand to be treat like equals yet still insist on men going out of their way for them. Besides, he has chivalry as being a lot like respect - deserved. 

”Crumpets are overrated.”

Was she looking at his mouth? Strike that, was she staring? That only made him smirk more, and...was that a hint of color he picked up in her cheeks? Oh ho! This was getting better. Honestly, who was this woman?

The ride in the elevator amused him to no end. You'd think she was expecting him to do something crazy, like start standing on his head and making money noises. What did she think he was going to do in the elevator? There was only one thing to do - stand and wait until it stopped. It wasn't big enough for much else, anyway. Still, her constant switch between starting at him and trying to stare directly ahead amused him to no end. 

”Watch and learn. I distract. Pastries under the left side of the desk.” 

So he had to do the pastry snatching job? This would certainly be interesting. Not the fact that he was taking the pastries, but the fact that she, basically, was entrusting them into his care. And who was to say he was going to hand them over so easily, hm? No, he'd have some fun with this.

The visitors all had their attention on the woman who had disrupted the flow of the line and delayed their entry into wherever they needed to be, some looking annoying, others merely curious. The mousey guy seemed to be starting at Miss Smart-alec through wide, adoring eyes. That was how she got the pastries each morning, was it? The guy on the desk seemed quite enamored. 

Smirking, Sven casually wandered to the left side and located the box that held the pastries, just like she'd said. He peeked under it and noticed there were precisely three in there. Well, three for two was always a winning deal, so he slid the box from under the desk and turned away, walking back towards the elevator. She'd soon catch up, if she really wanted a pastry as much as she said she did.

[FALLON SUZETTE ARCHIBALD]

Fallon was idly flirting with Erich, turning on that irresistible charm that she kept bottled up for most of the day, ”Busy day at the ministry - glad you’re not busy enough for me! I would hate if-” For a moment, her green eyes darted and she saw the Secretary walking away, pastries in hand. He had the whole bloody box! He was walking away with her box of pastries! And walking like someone lit a fire under his arse. She felt her muscles tense, but knew that she was going to have to book it out of her if she was ever going to catch up with him, ”I would hate if we missed talking to each other. Listen, I’ve got to dash. Big meeting with the Head of Mysteries.”

The brunette stood up and pushed a few of the visitors out of the way, determined to keep an eye on the man and her box of danishes - there was no way in hell that she was letting him take them all. She could hear a rumble of disapproving growls from the line, but Fal had far more important things on her mind.

”Excuse you!” She was suddenly regretting her choice of such high stilettos today. Trotting after him, she pulled her cardigan around her chest and moved her little feet quicker, ”Oye!” He was heading straight for the lift and there was no way that she was getting left behind. As he slipped into the elevator, she gave one final push and managed to slide her hand to stop the door at the last second.

Green eyes flashed with anger as she looked him up and down, eyes finally settling on the delicious box of danishes that he had in his possession, ”You’re hardly the Clyde to my Bonnie.” She growled, stepping into the elevator and taking this chance to look him dead in the eyes. ‘But he certainly could be,’ Shaking her head, she refused to even entertain the idea. There was no reason to network with the undersecretary of the Head of the Department of Mysteries. Even though she was far shorter than him, she liked to think that she was being intimidating, ”We share the spoils, obviously.” She growled as she placed her hands on the other side of the box and gave it a tug.

[Deleted]

Once he'd started for the lift, he kept going. He didn't stop nor turn even when he could hear her shouts following from behind him. It was impossible to keep the amused smirk from his face, too, as this whole thing was just too good. She seemed to be hurrying away from her little flirt-a-thon at the desk and following his direction. She really did love her pastries, didn't she. 

Despite her being so close to catching up, Sven stepped into the elevator and stood, back against the side, staring at the opposite wall so that he still didn't turn to look at her. It was only when the click of her heels were really close and he saw the doors start to open again that he glanced over - smirk still in place. "Bad date? He seemed a bore." That guy on the desk seemed like he'd been about ready to topple over backwards and cave to her ever beck and call, had she have desired it.

”You’re hardly the Clyde to my Bonnie.”

Her what? He raised an eyebrow but didn't make comment, just watched as the annoyed look on her face appeared to give way to another - one that cared only for the contents of the box he held, and the box that she grabbed for. 

”We share the spoils, obviously.” 

He slid the box easily from her hands and lifted it above his head, far beyond her reach, his amused smirk growing, challenging her. "What happened to manners? It never hurt to ask politely." The lift started to move, and he was very thankful no one else had joined them, otherwise the journey wouldn't be half so fun. He was sure this journey wasn't going to be as quiet as the one down here had been.

[FALLON SUZETTE ARCHIBALD]

“Bad date? He seemed a bore.”

Fallon scoffed, “I’m sure you would know all about that, now wouldn’t you?” He was right of course, this man was proving to be far more interesting in a few minutes than Erich had proved to be for the past five years. It was amazing how things could work like that.

“What happened to manners? It never hurt to ask polietly.”

Briefly shocked and momentarily stunned, Fallon realized that she had indeed forsaken much of her manners. So much for always keeping a level head on her shoulders. This man, whoever her was seemed to push all the wrong buttons and create chaos in her normally analytical and calculating mind. Oh, she hated him. Perhaps more than she hated anyone else. Although he had been a formidable ally in getting the danishes, he had long since served his purpose. Fingertips were pulled from the box as she looked up at him, the brunette could feel the rush of pink in her cheeks. How dare he embarrass her like this and put the danishes above his head where he knew she had no hope of reaching them, “Just hand over the box, and no one has to get hurt.” She growled through her teeth.

She was reaching up, he held it higher than she could grab, and they were in extreme proximity to one another. Fallon couldn’t tell if it was rage or sheer adrenaline that was running through her veins at this point. Here she was alone in an elevator with a man that had done nothing but annoy her since they met and all she wanted to do was punch him in the face. “Seriously, who do you think you are?” Stretching up on her toes, even with the accompanied stiletto heel, she was no match for his height. He could hold her food hostage all day and there was nothing that she could do about it. There was only one thing to do, only one thing that her brain allowed her to surmise as a reasonable alternative.

Angrily the brunette turned on her heel and slammed her hand into the emergency stop button on the elevator. The lift shuttered and then screeched to a halt in the middle of its path and Fallon glared over at him, “We’re not going until you give me the danishes.”