While there was a much longer list of reasons he did like his job, one thing Morrison didn't particularly enjoy about his daily work was performing damage control. Sure, he spent a lot of his time cleaning up other people's messes in an unofficial capacity, doing so at the Ministry sometimes got under his skin. He knew for a fact that all of his coworkers must have had some type of education, but he sure couldn't tell that judging by some of the dumbasses that they had coming through Magical Transportation. The duds must give impressive, and apparently fabricated, interviews, because their skills were less than impressive for the portkey guru.
Case in point - his day's work. When he had arrived to his office that morning, a small package had been placed right on top of a pile of paperwork. After scanning the memo that accompanied the mystery mail, he set it to the side and began clearing out the rest of his work, working at his usual quick, but precise manor. Morrison's comfort zone was speed and efficiency, and if he wasn't maintaining both, it derailed his mindset and threw him off of his game.
After returning from his lunch break, his desk had now been cleared of anything that could have distracted him from his project for that afternoon. One of his colleagues, for whatever reason, had decided that an appropriate item for a new portkey had been a Golden Snitch - a Golden Snitch! Of all things in bloody London he could have chosen, he chose a small ball that had been charmed with immunity from any spell that could slow it down, ready to fly into anyone sending them off to who knows where! After spending many years in the Portkey Office, Morrison was now a go-to person when handling problem cases. He spent a few minutes rubbing his temples, trying to form a plan of action; his knowledge in areas of metal charming were incredibly limited, though the nature of the spell gave him some idea of what kind of magic he was up against. Using his wand, he produced a layer of ice around the package, creating a block now taking up the middle of his workspace. With another spell, he cut it in half; flipping the left half onto it's side, he could now see the object in question, frozen in place. He couldn't do anything about it from here though.
Slowly, he began heating a hole into the ice; Morr was hoping to create a hole small enough that the snitch may not escape, but big enough that he would be able to effectively reverse the previous magic. Once he did so, he sent his first spell toward the golden object. Something he had never seen began as soon as he did; a bright orange light began illuminating the office, which was already well lit. It was a nice defensive measure should some sneaky Seeker have been trying to cheat during a game, but it certainly wasn't doing him any favors. It was actually making it incredibly hard to see his target. He picked the block of ice up from his desk bringing it close to his face to try to see anything, now blinded by an orange light.
His focus was broken abruptly as he heard his name, as he was not aware he had company. In the shock, the ice fell from his hand, breaking against the floor. The next few seconds happened almost too quick for him to react to. Just as he made eye contact with Étaín, the sound at his feet demanded his attention. When he looked down, the snitch had already begun what Morrison could have sworn was a beeline right toward her hand. Without thinking, he immediately swung his arm out, trying to grab the wing to keep it from touching her. As the familiar tug in his stomach began, he cursed. He looked up at his friend to see that just as he had snatched the wings, it found the knuckle of her finger, and so they two were now off to their mystery spot for the day.
Even after many distances traveled by portkey, he still hadn't mastered the art of keeping his eyes open during the journey. He squeezed them tight, waiting for the movement to stop. When it did, his head found the side of a wall, more curse words escaping. The headache began almost immediately, though it was more of a pulsing at the point of impact. He didn't respond right away, though he immediately recognized Étaín's voice; in the commotion, he had momentarily forgotten she had been there. "Yes, 'Tain, I'm here." As he said replied, Morrison forced his eyes open. It took the wizard a moment to recognize his surroundings, but as he did, a low groan escaped his lips.
"Étaín, please tell me that you don't see the Tower of London and we aren't surrounded by muggles."
