Lay Your Freedom At My Feet [Jessica]

Peter Alva was annoyed. Instead of getting to spend the afternoon in Inverness sipping cool lemonade, business had forced him to travel to London and unpleasant business at that.

The Elemental Council of Inverness had never seen eye to eye with the British ministry, but there was a grudging truce. They left each other alone for the most part and everyone was satisfied.  However, the issue of the veil remained unresolved, meaning that the ceasefire was not a precursor to peace but simply a stalemate. The Council was unwilling to give up its claim on the artefact and of course the ministry ruled out relinquishing the Veil to its self-proclaimed ‘rightful’ owner. As a consequence, Peter Alva had told his elementals not to lend the ministry any assistance.

Until earlier this week that had all been well and dandy. However, when word of the arrest of a fire elemental reached Peter Alva’s ears, the man was outraged. Was the ministry about to resort to blackmail to force his hand on the issue? If so, he would not stand for it. The charges brought against Turchanova by a woman called Jessica Smith had to be complete fabrication and even if they weren’t – Peter Alva was not about to let one of his charges get into trouble. More importantly, this would not become leverage in the ongoing struggle.

So here he was about to pay that auror, Smith, a visit and sort things out. If he could stop this bullshit from ever being brought before the wizengamot, that would be beneficial for all parties involved and would save him a fortune in bribes. He could get over his distaste of the auror headquarters for that.

The elemental stepped inside, walked past an affronted receptionist witch yelling after him that he didn’t have an appointment, right towards that Smith woman’s office. He opened the door without knocking, not caring if he would be disrupting an ongoing meeting. As far as he was concerned, nothing was more important than what he was about to discuss.

“Smith, a word on the Turchanova case please. Now.”

He didn’t usually waltz into places like this, but he had to admit that it was rather enjoyable. He briefly tipped his hat, the gesture seeming comically out of place proceeding his rudeness just a few moments prior.

She was in a foul mood.

Though in all honesty, she didn't have the sweetest disposition in the entire world on a good day. On her meticulously tidy desk was a stack of files and papers alike. Jessica's long slim fingers flicked through them, turning and restacking them with ease. To anyone else, her little piles were confusing but to her, everything made perfect sense. What annoyed her, however, was the fact that there was some of her personal correspondence in the middle of files.

With a heavy sigh, she stopped to flip over an ivory coloured envelope which she ripped open, only to have a silver coloured card fall onto her lap. Big chocolate brown eyes scanned the printed words. Great. A Christmas party. Wasn't it a bit too early for that sort of thing? It wasn't December yet but the weather outside was freezing. It was cold, grim, grey and wet. The thing about Christmas parties was the fact that she didn't have a legitimate excuse not to go. Her family weren't easily swayed. Her dad was persuasive and her mother was downright terrifying.

It wasn't that she could say she was spending time with her significant other. The only person in the last ten years she'd really felt anything for was her ex-colleague, Miles McKay. She hadn't seen nor heard from the other man in over five years and the last she'd heard, he'd left to look after his ailing mother.

Jess blew at her long dark curls as she ruffled them with a hand, her other going to adjust her cream coloured blouse which was tucked nearly into a figure hugging black pencil skirt which was cut modestly and fell to just below her knee. It was nearly time for her to grab some lunch but the weather outside made the task seem positively Herculean. She hadn't brought an umbrella with her. Her thick winter coat was hanging on a hook on the back of her office door. The Ministry was warm but she was feeling the cold.

Her lunch of choice was normally supplied by Gino. A small, stocky Italian gentleman who owned a small restaurant close by. Jessica had accidentally befriended the man, purely because she was fluent in Italian and she was tired if waiting in a queue. The Auror got to her feet, her already tall stature elongated by her choice in black court shoe, about the grab her coat when her office door swung open loudly.

Her eyes widened as she looked from the man to the door and she could hear shouting. Familiar shouting. She blinked placidly at the stranger, her hands coming to rest on her bony hips as she arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow. "Did you just accost Penelope?" she asked, referring to the receptionist this brute must have marched right past.

His tone was rude and abrupt and she had to say, she rather liked it. Jessica was rather used to be people referring to her solely by her surname. She wasn't sensitive about it. The use of her last name made her smile brightly. Having such a horribly common one, it made her feel oddly anonymous. A word on the Turchanova case? "No," she stated briskly. "There's your word," she commented politely, changing her position to drop her hands from her hips so she could interlink them in front of her quickly.

The gesture with his hat caught her off guard and she had to bite down hard on the insides of her cheek to stop herself from laughing. The only thought she had at the moment was what in the name of Merlin possessed him to purchase that piece of attire? Where those studs? Or rhinestones? Costume jewellery? Jessica folded her plump pink lips together to try and prevent the stifled giggle from slipping out. She didn't want to be rude.

"I'm afraid you've come at a bad time, Mr. Sparkly Hat," she stated quickly, pointing to the door she hoped he'd leave through. "I'm actually about to take my lunch break. You can always leave a note at reception and I'll get back to you within fourteen working days."

Jessica Smith was a rather attractive looking lady. Peter Alva found himself surprised. Weren’t the woman pursuing auror careers usually butch and masculine? Well, every rule had its exceptions. For a brief moment he was hoping she would be a sweet and demure creature eager to find a compromise, but she thwarted such imaginings swiftly with a firm no. She was obviously not impressed or intimidated by his entrance. Truth be told, he had not expected it to work either, but it had been worth making the attempt. Some people were far too gullible and if a little bit of razzle dazzle was all it took, well, he could provide that.

Within seconds though it became clear that razzle dazzle was not what was required here. If anything he had probably just earned a first strike against him. It didn’t matter. If intimidation didn’t work there were other means of achieving his ends. Some people needed to be made to feel small while for others the exact reverse was true. After all, one could catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. Perhaps appealing to her sense of ego would do the trick. Surely, he hadn’t happened upon the one decent and honourable ministry worker when the entire place was full of corrupt, opportunistic jackasses. Sure, lots of people had been asked to leave after the war, only to be replaced with similar types of different allegiance. Some things never changed. Peter Alva believed the corruption within any government organisation to be such a thing.

“With Penelope?” Peter Alva asked rather taken aback. It wasn’t that he had anything against the receptionist, but this matter was too important to go unaddressed for several weeks. He could understand that Smith wanted to be rid of him, but unfortunately he was in no position to make things easy on her. Her rather unpleasant demeanour though spared him any feelings of sympathy he might have otherwise had for the woman in front of him.

“You wound me.” He sounded distraught just in the right amount to be believable. “I’d come to you because I have it on good authority that you are the best person to speak to. Competent and efficient.” He hoped that this was the right compliment to make. He could have commented on her beauty or her integrity or any number of other qualities, but his gut told him that the woman in front of him valued her job more than anything else in her life. Therefore, any compliments about how she was doing her work were likely those she was longing to hear. Most people were predictable and their behaviour easily decoded. Still, he couldn’t help being cautious now. She had surprised him once and could likely do it again.

“How about I buy you lunch and we talk it over. We’ll order a nice wine, if you’re allowed while on duty and we quickly sort this out. If it’s between lunch with you and the buffoon heading your department I’d rather take the former.” Who didn’t hate their boss just a little in a place such as the auror office? Somebody responsible for all the paperwork and playing matters by the book had to be tedious to work with. If Smith agreed with him, he might have just scored a point and gotten her to relax a little. However, Peter Alva was starting to fear he would have to hold the woman at wandpoint or worse yet break out one of his elemental runes. Maybe once half her body was turned to ice the threat of letting her melt into nothingness would assure cooperation. Well, hopefully it wouldn’t have to come to that.

Jessica blinked her big chocolate eyes three times in rapid succession as she just stood there. After she'd offended someone (it was her party trick) they usually just bristled right out of her office. It didn't matter that he'd barged in. She didn't lose her train of thought. His ideas of her were bang on; her job was her life. She didn't have a boyfriend, a husband, children or a cat. Things were winding down after the war and things were pretty much back to normal. Which was a shame.

Jess liked the hustle and bustle. She liked arresting people, reuniting families. Nowadays, there were just files and more files. Plus she still had no idea how she could prove Declan O'Dwyer had a forty foot metal cage for a runespoor. She bloody well knew he had an illegal animal and it was driving her bonkers. She was so utterly determined because the Irishman was so blasé and sarcastic about the entire thing. She wanted to destroy him but he'd gone quiet. They hadn't crossed paths in over a year. A metal sex dungeon. Really! What a tosser.

The brunette found herself frowning in Peter Alva's company before she snapped to. "Penelope," she said flatly. Her receptionist was like a particularly ill-mannered bulldog. Jess narrowed her eyes at the stranger for a few seconds before deciding to let it slide. If anything, Penelope was probably flapping her hands around and would be apologising profusely later on in the day.

The Auror tilted her head to the side a little. She didn't buy it, not for one second. On numerous occasions, she had been reliably informed that instead of a heart, she possessed a lump of ice in her chest. Oh. Well he wasn't wrong; she was competent and reliable. She softened a little. He could compliment her looks and she'd dismiss them but if he complimenting her work ethic then by jove, she was listening. Trying not to let him know, the slender woman swiftly folded her arms across her chest, fitting snugly beneath her bust, as she shifted her weight to her left foot.

"You should consider pantomime," Jess said with a swift smile. "'tis the season after all." It would be plausible to think that he didn't know what a pantomime was, much less would be understand her not very nice joke she'd just made.

All she could think about was that sodding Runespoor. She hated poets.

Wine? Jessica's ears were certainly pricked. But did she really want to have lunch with him? She'd effectively snookered herself. She wouldn't be able to back out because she was peckish and he now knew her plans. Shit. "That's…sweet?" The brunette offered uncertainly. He made it seem like she was the lesser of two evils which was misguided but being compared unfavourably to her boss, well, that wasn't much of a compliment. She'd made up her mind. She turned to grab her woollen regulation mac and slip it over her shoulders, using the belt to tie it securely around her miniscule waist in an effort to bat away the horrible London cold.

Jessica pulled on her leather gloves before fluffing out her glossy curls, the faint scent of rose catching on the wind as she held the door open for him. "Can't promise I can do anything for you," she said primly as she shut the door, her long legs striding down the neat corridor, her high heels click-clacking on the highly polished floor. He could wine and dine her all he wanted to but she wasn't sure she was that familiar with whatever case he was rabbiting on about. Jess dealt with hundreds every month but he did seem a bit pent up about it.

"Penny, it's fine," Jessica called out to her secretary, extending a pale hand to try and get the older, plump woman to sit back down and carry on working. She quickly descended the stairs, the hem of her coat spreading behind her as she lightly touched the rail for support. She didn't tend to exercise, she just ran up eight or nine flights of stairs several times per day. It was cheaper than the gym. Wandering across the busy foyer, she reached the other side and placed her gloved hand on the cold glass of the door and gave it a sharp shove and instantly recoiled in disgust.

Cold. Wow. Too cold. She wasn't wearing a scarf and she was woefully under prepared for the horrible damp that just seeped into her bones. "It's cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey," Jessica muttered grumpily under her breath as she attempted to pull her coat closer around her slim body, stamping the ground to keep warm. Should've worn tights. "After you," she said gamely, gesturing down the street. If he was paying, he got to pick. "Ah, not that way," she was quick to correct him, steering him the other way. "Restaurants down that way have rats," she frowned. Amongst other things. Yack.