I may look lost but that doesn't mean I need help (Jon)

Ed had a particularly uncharacteristic idea. He was going to do something spontaneously nice; perhaps uncharacteristic was the wrong word, maybe unexpected, or just way too soon in a relationship to do something this thoughtful. He called out for his Zadky, the elf that he was gracious enough to let inhabit the flat with him, and gave the creature strict instructions on what he was to prepare. The meal would be something small, but thoughtful, and at the same time, one of Eros’s favorites. The dessert would certainly win him some bonus points with the beast hunter, seeing as he couldn’t keep his hands off anything with sugar in it. Smiling, Ed made his way into the bedroom to change into a fresh set of robes before leaving to surprise Eros with lunch.

Checking himself once more in the mirror, Ed ensured that the food was secured in the oven, as that is where he would be conjuring it from when he arrived at the Ministry to eat with Eros. Looking over his appearance and shaking his head at the state of his robes, Ed wished that he had something more presentable. He was going to have to invest in some nicer robes now that he had someone who he cared what they thought about him and his clothes. Deciding there was nothing else he could do about it, Ed stepped through the wall door. Ensuring that the flat was adequately locked up, the young man turned on the spot and apparated to the small alleyway near the visitor’s entrance to the Ministry. Walking briskly to the telephone box which housed an apparently broken phone, Ed picked up the receiver and dialed 62442. At once, the disembodied voice of a woman began speaking. Answering the purpose for his visit, Ed fixed the badge that came through the coin return to his robes and waited as the box began sinking to the entrance to the Atrium.

As he descended, Ed looked around at the cavernous Atrium into which he was arriving. It was marvelous. The place was so obviously magical that he felt right at home each and every time he visited the place. When he finally felt his descent end, Ed stepped off the platform and into the sea of people mulling around the open area. Some were coming, others going, many it seemed just meandered around the great hall in no particular hurry to go anywhere or do anything. Making his way over towards the security desk, Ed smiled at the watch wizard who sat there, waiting to inspect his wand. He had ensured that he brought the blackthorn wand rather than his aspen one, trusting his forged paperwork would work, but not willing to test it at this point, especially so soon after the whole ‘He Who Must Not Be Named’ scare. Presenting his wand, the wizard inspected it, weighed it, and tore the slip of parchment from the machine before giving it back to Ed. With another smile, the young man made his way toward the lift.

As he moved toward the lift, he checked the pocket watch he had received as a gift at his coming of age party and realized that he was a little early for Eros’s normal lunch break. The beast hunter often took late lunches, and Ed would rather wait here than in the stuffy 4th floor offices. Moving towards the fountain of the magical brethren, Ed sat down on the ledge and watched the people mulling the hall. So entranced at the comings and goings of the hall, Ed hardly noticed someone standing in front of him. Shaking his head to clear the fog, Ed spoke up in an accented English, “I am sorry, did you say something? I was very much enjoying the sight of the room, I hardly even noticed that you had approached.” The man was obviously a ministry employee, Ed just hoped that his behavior had not been odd enough to attract the attention of anyone that would keep him from making his lunch surprise work.

Jonathan had been prepping himself for this month, but July came like a riptide, already threatening to pull him under. The young man was used to keeping busy, maintaining a schedule that would exhaust many. But just two days into the month, Jonathan was already drawing from reserves that welled from a pool of desperation than anything else. He simply had to muster on and get through his dockets, in addition to his evening portkeys into Spider Island for his lessons, and coordinating two large-scale events that involved his imprint in nearly every stage of development.

One of the supposed benefits of working in his department was the international magical cooperation. But cooperation appeared to be a nebulous term. Like at this moment, there wasn’t much cooperation happening at all. Jonathan was sent to deal with a particularly stubborn French delegation, as he was considered to have the most patience out of all the major Officials. But when he was averaging less than three hours of sleep, not even enough to complete a full REM cycle, Jonathan’s mood had turned considerably worse. Today’s events had not made things better.

For one, the French seemed to have an internal clock all set to their own time. They didn’t seem to mind coming in twenty minutes late to the meeting, and based on their morning agenda, had not read the memos beforehand. Many of the questions they posed were answered in the papers they’d been given two weeks prior, and Jonathan was increasingly tempted to wring one of their necks. But on they pressed, and just as they were finally making some headway, everything came to a halt.

In fact, one of the French Officials was right in the middle of a sentence when he suddenly stopped, turned to his partners, and uttered, ‘Dejeuner.’

And with that, they all rose and made their way out of the meeting room, leaving Jonathan slack-jawed. So they come in abominably late, but apparently had very strict adherence to the sacred schedule of lunchtime! These fools wouldn’t return for another two hours, ruining the productive momentum they’d just built. To their tiny credit, the French were at least willing to work late hours, but Jonathan didn’t have that luxury now that he was teaching courses and overseeing activities for the ISS, in addition to the other projects he was assigned.

He waited until the last French Official left the door before he let out an exasperated groan and began smacking his head onto the mahogany meeting table. His assistant just stood there, rather unsure what was proper protocol, so he let Jonathan continue knocking his brain cells until the young Emerson was sufficiently dazed. His forehead was tender, but at least his thoughts were reduced to a near flatline. He took a his time to decompress, write some notes, and finish the last of his coffee. When his agitation lessened, he got up, figuring he may as well enjoy his lunch.

‘They won’t be back until 1400, so feel free to take a break until then,’ Jon said to his assistant. He then slumped away and headed out, wondering what he should do. His first instinct was to go to the newly opened lounge he and his family donated to his Department, but the sight of several French Delegates had him turning right back around. Unfortunately, he caught the attention of one of them who asked if he could find one of their junior Officials, who was supposed to have come back after a quick errand by the Atrium. Jon’s eye twitched at their gall. Did he look like a gopher? Okay, perhaps his age did make him seem like it. But he was the fourth ranking Official in the Department! Jonathan thought these old farts would remember the young Englishman leading these meetings despite being half their age.

Jon wanted to give a classic English response, of politeness laced in acerbic sarcasm, but he saw his Department Head giving him a warning look, and so Jonathan bit his tongue and went on his way. He huffed down the lift, and huffed out once the doors opened. Jonathan couldn’t fully recall what the bloke looked like, so he scanned around for some lost looking man that looked remotely French. Jonathan first went to the coffeeshop, then moved onto the main hall of the Atrium. In the bustle of shuffling cloaks and feet, Jon spotted a lone young man sitting by the fountain.

Striding over, he stood over the sitting man, and gruffly addressed him. ‘Hey mate. Your delegation wants you back to the Department Lounge.’

Apparently, in addition to having no sense of direction, this French fool was also hard of hearing. His airy response nearly blew a fuse in Jon’s head, but Jon held it back with a forced smile. In a very slow, deliberate, patronising tone, Jon repeated himself.

‘I said, the French delegate is looking for you. You need to come with me back to the Department floor.’

It had been nearly ten minutes of peaceful sitting, reading one of the newspapers lying on the ledge of the fountain. He had found a particularly interesting article regarding the Quidditch league standings and the recent week’s results. Ed was more than happy to reread the previous week’s exploits as he and his squad had done quite well. Having recently moved into position as reserve team head trainer, Ed had several players who served as reserves for the main team. One of them, a Chaser had even been forced to play due to a main team injury the week prior. The man had done well, scoring four times in his first match at the first team level. Ed had been quite happy, even though his duties with the first team had nothing to do with the Chasers. Folding his paper up, Ed resumed his earlier practice of watching the goings on around the Atrium.

Ed was thoroughly enjoying his few moments of relaxation. He still, by his reckoning, had at least another five minutes of doing simply nothing. It was then that the young man was woken from his lackadaisical wonderings to the reality of a young, rather flustered looking man standing next to him, babbling incoherently. As he waited for the man to repeat himself, Ed noted that he had no need for the other man’s tone. Delegate? Department? Why would anyone need him anywhere except the fourth floor where Eros, who wasn’t even expecting him, worked? And what delegation would need him? He was a simple trainer of Quidditch teams from an obscure part of England. What matters could anyone have to discuss with him? He had been somewhat successful to this point his short British career, but it had been far too brief and it was unlikely that the news of his time from France had made it across the channel to the Ministry. Even if it had, Ed was sure that someone would have told him about being invited to serve as part of a delegation.

Taking a moment to compose himself, Ed’s response was quite measured. “I am sorry, but I do believe that you have me mistaken my good friend. I’m not aware of any delegation related to Quidditch managers and trainers here today.” Ed couldn’t really see why, even if there was a convention or delegation, he would be involved in such a meeting. “I am simply here to enjoy a lunch with my boyfriend who works in the Disposal of Magical Creatures Office, it is something of a surprise for him you know.”  Ed smiled, hoping to show his genuine confusion by the man’s rather brash remarks. Noting the sarcastic and somewhat patronizing tone of voice the young man used, Ed wondered if maybe he was a little stressed out, perhaps needing a break, or maybe just someone to talk to.

“You seem to me to be a little bothered Mr…” Ed paused, realizing that he did not know the other man’s name. He had assumed that Ed knew who he was and as a result had apparently thought introductions were unnecessary. “I am sorry, but I do not seem to know your name. I am Edouard Pontmerci, but you can call me Ed. As I was saying before, I am waiting on my boyfriend for lunch, but you seem as though you could use a break, would you perhaps like to join me here at the fountain? Or maybe you are too busy to take a break?” Ed never really liked to skip times to relax, but he could understand those that did. Work for most took up their entire day, for Ed however, the season was over despite their most recent, good performance. They had not made the playoffs and so had a break until their next season began.