...like clockwork

"Level five, Mr. Bellamy... I know it's been a while..."

Harlan glanced over his shoulder at the woman behind the desk who only briefly looked up from her work long enough that he could catch her smirk. Depending on the day, and the staff, it seemed that the security protocol at The Ministry of Magic varied. Since the war things had gone from strict to... only slightly less so. Most visits to his brother which, admittedly were few and far between, Harlan had to be escorted to the International Law floor like some kind of criminal.

It was Friday and it was late enough in the evening that a few workers were making their way out for a weekend of freedom and loosening their ties along the way. The idea made him feel a bit sick.

"You'll be the first to know if I get lost, and you're welcome by the way," He called out with a grin, referencing the autograph she had sarcastically asked for and subsequently not thanked him for. The rickety doors of the lift opened with some struggle after a moment's pause to reveal a stout attendant in the corner. "Floor five, cheers," Harlan nodded to the man in the hat and then averted his eyes to the walls around them as they transformed.

Harlan hated going there, though it was less of task given Simon wasn't going to actually be there. As he exited the lift, he offered half a smile to the man and shifted the photo album that had been tucked under his arm— Audrey's birthday present. His older brother, naturally, wanted to give their combined gift the final go-ahead (which really just meant he wanted to remove anything too embarrassing of himself). The plan was to drop it off and be on his way before The Ministry rubbed off on him.

The light in his brother's office was on. Shit. He paused, wondering if it might be better to come back later to avoid the interaction. But then again, he couldn't bring himself to go through the whole security process over again.. Harlan ran his knuckles on the door and pushed open the crack. "Farley?" He was relieved to see Simon's assistant in the place of him. "What are you still doing here?" He studied the American witch as she struggled to pull something out of her drawer.

@Farley Hoskins

She ought to be feeling sad about this.

The thought had bumped around her head for the last week or two, since she'd handed in her resignation. The job wasn't bad, it was now glaringly obvious that it wasn't worth uprooting her life and crossing an ocean for. Farley hadn't made any friends, except one of the receptionists downstairs who sometimes gave her a muffin when she looked exceptionally harassed.

Pausing, she exhaled, hands on her hips as she arched her back and moaned as the tension left her muscles. On her desk was a large cardboard box, almost filled with her worldly possessions. Notebooks, stationary, personal bits and pieces, including Terry, her well looked after aloe vera plant.

There had been no pomp and circumstance. No party, no cake, not even a card but Farley took it in her stride as she gathered up a handful of paperclips and dropped them into the box. Her fingers closed around a leather bound notebook and she hesitated. "No," she told herself, setting it down firmly. It was Simon's schedule. Farley had been his secretary but the job role felt more like "servant." She didn't mind getting him his coffee and sending out his letters but she drew the line at picking out his wife's gifts for him. It had happened once and she was still haunted by the gesture.

"Not my problem anymore," she told herself with a firm nod as she tapped the book and stepped back. Next went in a couple of framed photographs, though suspiciously, not of her family. One was of a large cabin in the woods and the other of a rather hefty Bulldog. The cabin was in Baker City in Oregon, set between tall trees, her escape from the world. The dog was Lucky, who, ironically, was the unluckiest, clumsiest and inelegant thing that had ever walked the planet.

Heaving a sigh, she tangled a hand in her hair as she surveyed the last eight or so months of her life, all condensed into a pile. Farley's slim fingers rubbed her left earlobe, like she always did when she felt anxious, only to find her earring missing. Closing her eyes and asking for help from a higher power, she yanked open a desk drawer and felt around the empty space blindly, looking up quickly as her name was called.

"Harlan?" Farley asked stupidly as she stood up straight, looking guilty despite having no reason to. Clearing her throat, she anxiously smoothed a hand down her pencil skirt, tilting her her head. Gosh, she hadn't seen him in at least six months. Swiftly, she pointed to her cardboard box by way of an explanation.

"I'm leaving," she said simply. "What are you doing here?" She hadn't meant for her tone to be so accusatory but having Simon's brother here at any time of the day was odd. Blinking, Farley was still on the hunt for her missing earring before she spied the album under his arm. Aha - wife present. "Do you need me to wrap that up for you?" She offered helpfully. "Simon's not here," she told him, this time unhelpfully. "Something about drinks with the guys?" Pulling a face, she shrugged.

It was always jarring to hear his name on an American tongue.

Harlan paused in the doorway to lean against the frame, adjusting the album under his arm. He hadn't meant to come across as uncomfortable but he was certain that he was. Farley was leaving. As in, leaving? Or leaving, leaving? He couldn't keep up with the sentiment. Judging that type of thing was hard when someone wasn't a peer— as painfully English. "Sneaking out under the cover the night, then?" He chose the safe option, making it more of a joke and letting the woman elaborate on her own terms. 

Working for his brother, he knew, couldn't be a walk in the park either way.

"Oh, no, no thanks," Harlan interjected as he took a step further into the office that was far too ostentatious than it had any right to be. The gold crown molding was a lot, even for him. Who did Simon think he was, The Fucking Minister of Magic? "A gift for Audrey's birthday," He explained, running his fingers over the spine methodically. "Simon's got to give his final stamp of approval..." Farley, of course, knew that better than he ever would. "Apparently he's in the office tomorrow," Harlan shrugged, setting it down on the desk before turning to face her.

"Hope he's not still keeping you this late?" He leaned back and planted both palms on either side. She looked to be cleaning out her desk for good, not that he could blame her.

Unable to help herself, she let out a snort of laughter at his remark. Harlan wasn't quite as charismatic as his brother was but both Bellamys made her feel equally inadequate. "Didn't think I was the type, right?" Farley answered with a grin as she dropped a notebook into her cardboard box as she debated stealing the stapler - did she need a stapler? Not in the slightest but why not. With a shrug, she added it into her office haul.

Her dark eyes flicked to the album under his arm. "Ah," she replied shortly with a nod of understanding. "Cute," Farley answered, wondering if Simon had put in the leg work because photo albums were difficult to curate.

Unwilling to answer Harlan, she simply offered him a wry smile. He was bang on, of course. Part perfectionist and part ego-maniac, she often wondered why Simon wasn't the Minister of Magic. He'd be damned good at it. Staying silent, she tilted her head curiously. "You didn't want to hand it over in person?" The penny dropped soon after she'd asked her question - he wouldn't be creeping around after dark if he wanted to see his older brother.

"Hm?" Farley asked, looking up sharply, distracted. "I don't get paid if I stay past seven," she joked with a dimpled grin - sort of. She shook her head as she pulled the box towards her, rubbing the tip of her nose with the back of her hand. "My choice," she clarified. "I'm just making sure I haven't forgotten anything," she explained as she opened another desk drawer and crumpled up some parchment which she launched across the room into the waste paper basket in a slam dunk.

Surprised by that, her full lips formed a thoughtful frown as she nodded, impressed. "My last day," she finally told Harlan. In a very un-Farley like decision, she didn't have another job lined up for the first time in forever. London still wasn't "home" but it was growing on her, much to her annoyance. She'd even made friends with a neighbour who greeted her in the mornings and she'd recently referred to the pub on the corner of her street as her "local" so that had to count for something.

Still firmly American and set in her ways, she was equally dismayed and surprised to find that she now knew how to successfully hail a hackney cab, she no longer flinched when she saw mice on the Tube and she rather enjoyed queuing...though the word snog did make her throw up in her mouth a little bit.

"No plans tonight?" Farley asked him lightly as she brushed her palms on her skirt to get rid of the dust as she placed them on her hips as her eyes gave the office a once over as she heaved a sigh.

It was easier from his new vantage point to see that Farley was packing up for more than just the weekend. Simon hadn't mentioned she was moving on, which, again, made perfect sense given he usually limited his work chat with his brother strictly to things that highlighted how successful he was, showcasing whatever superiority complex he was grappling with that day. He was, genuinely successful, but Harlan could not have cared less as far as that sort of thing was concerned.

"Good for you," It wasn't clear the nature of the parting of professional ways (and Harlan wasn't about to ask), but he knew, either way, that she would be better off. Simon's assistants usually didn't last as long so he figured she would do more than fine quite literally anywhere else. "Staying in The Ministry, or—?" He left the question open for her to finish, waving a hand vaguely around them, not wanting to press the matter despite his curiosity.

When the conversation shifted to him, Harlan cleared his throat. He leaned his palms back on the desk and crossed his leg at the ankle. There was sick kind of gratification that came with making himself so comfortable in the place his older brother had deemed his personal fucking palace. "No, no just this," Harlan nodded to the album on the desk. He didn't know her well enough to share if he did have plans, anyway.

Then it dawned on him. "No farewell party?" He looked offended on her behalf. The sinking feeling that things must have not ended well hit harder.

"Thank you," Farley said brightly with a smile and a nod of acknowledgement. It seemed a bit harsh coming from Harlan and she'd half expected him to extol Simon's virtues. In fact, not a lot of people around the office did. He was tall and imposing and carried a strange air of importance around him but aside from that, he was rarely discussed. Unless he was wearing a particularly nice suit in the office.

Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, she looked up, fingers twiddling with her earring before she shook her head. "No," she said quickly. "And no plans as of yet," she told Harlan. Moving here had been a big mistake. She'd still be unhappy in Oregon but at least she'd have trees and fresh air and a decent burger. "I was actually toying with calling it quits and heading back home but I've still got a few weeks left on my apartment, so I can't really just leave it. If you know of anyone hiring, help a girl out," she joked, flicking her eyes up to his face and then away, just as quickly.

Harlan made himself at home and she nodded in understanding about his lack of plans. It seemed bizarre that he wouldn't be going out of an evening. It had stopped raining, after all. "Nice," she replied with a polite smile, her hands reaching out and twisting her potted plant to sit a little straighter in her cardboard box.

He seemed outraged and Farley laughed, offering him a big, bright megawatt smile. "You're funny," she grinned, wrinkling her nose in amusement. They didn't know each other and the handful of times they'd spent together, she'd either been drunk, stupid, anxious or all three - it wasn't very endearing. "Not really my style," she told Harlan casually. "Or your brother's." Letting it hang in the air, she smiled to show she was only kidding. "No big deal," she announced and she meant it. She'd rather have no fanfare than be surrounded by people who couldn't give a shit.

"Sorry I didn't try to get to know you better," Farley told Harlan quickly, her dark eyes bright. "You seem like a really nice guy." With a cheerful smile that made her cheeks dimple, she gave him a nod, her short bob swinging in the low light.

And he thought English people were cynical.

Harlan watched Farley as she pushed her hair behind her ear. He got a better look at her face to gauge what level of empathy he needed to apply — not that he was particularly good with that kind of thing. “Oh,” His voice was sharp with surprise despite himself. She was leaving, with no plan as to what came next. Maybe that too was an American thing, but more likely it was just a not-him thing. His every decision was painfully thought through to the point of dissection.

“Any interest in Quidditch?” He teased with a grin, happy that the tone of the conversation seemed to lighten up a bit. “We’re always in need of spare hands in the equipment department,” Harlan let out a laugh, certain that wouldn’t inspire anyone’s drive, especially her.

His grin faltered at her apology— sorry I didn't try to get to know you better. There was a hint of confusion in his eye that sparked over his features. It wasn’t often that people thought he seemed like a nice guy, not outwardly. In fact, it was the opposite. “That’s a first,” Harlan hoisted himself up to sit fully atop the desk. “Give it a week before I change your mind…” Now who was the cynical one? Despite the sentiment, he was almost smiling.

“Suppose we’ll have to have our own going away party then,” The wizard stood up from the desk and made his way around Simon’s desk to where he knew his brother kept the bottles of gifted spirits that he deemed undrinkable based on cost. “Ahh,” Harlan finally popped open the cabinet he was looking for and squatted down to assess the options.

“Gin or... whiskey?” He said over his shoulder, running a hand over the bottles that had been meticulously lined up.

"None at all," Farley laughed, thankful for the upturn in mood, hands on her hips as she grinned. "But I am pretty handy with a cleaning kit," she joked. "Keep my resume on file, please," she smiled.

Harlan seemed to take up the entire room as he hoisted himself up onto the desk and she found herself staring, entranced. "Nah," the short brunette insisted with a shake of her head. Her eyes were bright as she watched him, wondering which one of them had the bigger self-esteem problem. "You're cool," she told him. After all, she'd been the one to get black out drunk on a pub's sticky bar floor months ago and he'd been so gracious to get her home in one piece.

Farley grinned again. "I've not got a week, only three days so you might need to speed things up," she teased. A second or two of silence passed. "I never did believe all those stories written about you," she told Harlan, as though her opinion on his personal and professional life was worth anything. She blinked. "Can I ask you something, though?" Her voice was soft, almost a stage whisper as though someone might be lurking. "You didn't really get into a fight with someone from the South African Ministry of Magic because you flirted with his girlfriend, did you?" Farley asked, eyebrows raised as the image of them wrestling appeared in her head.

She paused. "Eh?" Farley questioned intelligently, moving closer to Harlan as he seemed to be on a mission. Fear gripped her as he revealed the bottles that hadn't been touched. "Oh we can't drink those," she whispered as she hovered at Harlan's shoulder nervously. She'd never really understood Simon's penchant for rudeness when it came to alcohol. Farley couldn't tell the difference between a £6 and a £60 bottle of wine and she was sure his brother couldn't, either.

Farley chewed on her lip, wringing her fingers together as she surveyed the offerings. She didn't recognise the brands but she did spot the alcohol content. "Whiskey," she said suddenly as she backed away to retrieve two mugs and held one out so Harlan could fill it. "A little more," she insisted with a cheeky grin, feeling like she was a teenager again, simply because someone had taken the time to talk to her today.

Harlan glanced over his shoulder, keeping balance from where he was squatted down in front of the cabinet, his palms steading him on the edge. Something about asking a question, before asking the actual question made his heart pick up in his chest. While he knew that he had no reason to feel like he was in trouble, with Farley of people— then again. He didn't answer but simply nodded, waiting for her to fill in the gaps.

That was a relief. He let out a bark of a laugh and shook his head. "Actually..." The story wasn't nearly as salacious as the papers made it out to be, of course. They never were. "The fight bit was true," He began. "But for the record, she was flirting with me," Flirting was putting it mildly. Harlan grinned before turning back to his search.

"Of course we can," Harlan assured as he leaned forward to get a closer look at the collection of bottles toward the back. In true Simon form, everything was top-shelf, but not top-shelf enough for his standards. Those bottles would have already been put in crystal decanters. "Whiskey..." He repeated smugly. He was happy that Farley hadn't lingered in her hesitance for all that long because he was in no mood to be doing any convincing on behalf of Simon.

"Won't even know it's gone..." The wizard stretched up to stand with the bottle in hand and a smirk, popping open the stopper with his thumb. "More?" He repeated cautiously, teasing a pour for half a second and catching her eye. After filling up hers and then his own, Harlan leaned back against the desk again. "Cheers, to—" He held the official Ministry mug upright and narrowed his gaze in thought. "To you not having to deal with Simon anymore," He let out a laugh before hitting the lip of the ceramic against Farleys.

"Oh my God," Farley replied with wide eyes, pressing a hand to her mouth in shock. So he had gotten into a brawl with a diplomat? It was on brand, she'd give him that. But she grinned with a shake of her head at his clarification. "I'll bet," she said distractedly with a smile, wondering how many other things concerning him had gotten lost in translation. "I take it you're no longer able to visit the country?" She asked lightly, flicking her eyes up to his and she smiled to show she was joking.

But Harlan insisted they could drink his brother's whiskey and she found herself shrugging. It wasn't exactly peer pressure but Farley put up very little resistance. She was usually talked into things pretty easily - like a tattoo she'd gotten at eighteen - but she didn't think anything that bad could happen after hours.

She chewed on her lip, her eyebrows coming together as she frowned. "Really?" She asked in a soft voice, annoyed and offended on behalf of the people who had gifted Simon the drinks. "And he just...keeps them?" She asked, peering at the label of the bottle that Harlan had selected. "Seems a little weird. You'd think he'd regift them or something," she shrugged.

She flushed pink but offered a quick grin. "I'm living dangerously," she joked and she thought it was funny. Her, dangerous? And pigs might fly. Harlan made a toast and she waited for it before she laughed, heartily clinking her mug against his. "To not having to deal with Simon any more," she echoed, taking a gulp and swallowing.

Farley ignored the way it made her throat burn and eyes water, instead, offering a delicate cough. "Yikes," she winced, giving it three seconds of thought before sipping it again with a laugh. A moment of silence descended and she gave a sigh, cradling her mug to her chest as she looked around the room that had been her life for the better part of a year. It wasn't sadness that she was feeling, more like..wistfulness.

"Thanks," she said quickly with another smile, lifting her mug in a salute. "This is really nice. I appreciate it," Farley commented genuinely, half wishing she'd been working for him rather than his brother. A beat of silence passed as she sipped at her whiskey. "So," she began, gesturing around the office with her free hand. "Do you think I should steal anything?" She joked - sort of.

There was something to be said for making someone flustered. Harlan knew he had no right to entertain that train of thought, with her, but there he was propped up against his brother's desk and verging on proud. The location seemed to make matters worse. Simon's office. There had always been something of a rivalry between he and his brother and Harlan would be lying to not acknowledge it. However, it had started to manifest itself in ways that he didn't recognize. Making his (ex) assistant blush, on his desk, and drinking his booze, was a good start.

Harlan took a mouthful of whiskey and watched Farley's faced pull up into a wince at the same time. She had talked a big game with that extra pour but he figured he knew better. He did remember pulling her up off the floor of The George. All of it felt like a lifetime ago. Strangely, he felt a bit sad to see her go, even though technically he only knew her by proxy.

"Living dangerously..." He teased with a smirk, bringing his mug down to his lap before another thank you gave him pause. Harlan couldn't imagine why he should be the one being thanked but he was willing to entertain it, selfishly. "It's nothing—" He piped up before he could think. Simon's discarded whiskey was still good enough to give a buzz after a mouthful. It was, really, nothing. He wondered how his brother hadn't had half a mind to do something for her already— but then again.

"I don't know if you want anything from here," Harlan began, looking over his shoulder to explore the expansive space. Everything was minimalistic. And not a single paper was out of place. Really, it wasn't that unlike his own home, but he would never admit it. "At least two bottles..." He let out a laugh before turning to Farley again.

"So really, no plan, then?" The thought lingered that she was just up and leaving like that. "Did something happen?" His face darkened. He hated that he had to even ask, but the question was in the back of his mind from the moment she explained the situation.

Harlan knew his brother.

Busted.

Farley laughed, blushing again but for a completely different reason. "As close as I'm ever going to," she admitted as she took a cautious sip onf the whiskey. She really should have gone with gin.

As Harlan said there wasn't anything worth stealing, Farley had to admit he was right. It was all very neat. She'd been Simon's secretary for almost a year but she'd done very little cleaning. She hadn't needed to. It had always been pristine. Harlan mentioned the bottles and she laughed. "I think I've only got room for the one," she admitted. "But I'll take one if you do," she offered cheekily.

Farley shook her head, the ends of her bob whipping her cheeks. "Not really," she answered him vaguely. "I was really hoping to stick it out but the cards just weren't dealt in my favour." She looked around. "I could always go back to MACUSA but I'll be in the same situation that I am here, just with arguably better pizza," she smiled.

Farley paused with her mug halfway to her lips at Harlan's question. She hesitated as she met his eye. It was only a second or two but probably too long. "No," she answered him with a nervous laugh, her grip on her mug tightening. "Of course not," she admitted and that much was true. Simon had been a typical boss - dismissive, uninterested and told ever so slightly off colour jokes.

She offered Harlan a quick smile. "Why'd you ask?" Farley took a fortifying gulp of her whiskey and this time, didn't let her eyes water as the sting hit her. "It was fine," she nodded. She didn't think it was the right time to say that she could have sworn he'd checked out her ass once.

"I intend to," Harlan commented matter-of-factly. It was a quiet tradition of his, one that he assumed Simon had no knowledge of, take a bottle any time he had to pay a visit. Payment for his trouble.

"Hm," He hummed a thought whilst Farley explained the situation, attempting in some way to commiserate with her. In truth, he hadn't ever known what it was like to be in such a freefall— apart from the very start of his career and when he came on as captain for the Griffins he usually took months to labor over a decision before it was made. "Well, what do you want to do?" He was aware that it was a loaded question to have asked so conversationally, but it was becoming more and more clear that for Farley, it was certifiably not being someone's assistant.

"Because I know my brother," He lamented with half of a smile. Simon wasn't all that outwardly of a bad person, but he had his moments.

Harlan reminded himself swiftly that everyone did as he crossed a leg over the other at the knee. "Do you want to sit?" He nodded to Simon's chair with a grin.

Farley gave a snort of laughter. She didn't have any siblings so the relationships always fascinated her. It was clear the Bellamys were a competitive bunch and she briefly wondered if she would have wanted to say had Harlan been her boss instead. "Pass me the most expensive one," she joked. Sort of.

No one had ever asked her what she wanted to do with her life and so, she squirmed on the spot. As naive and doe-eyed as she was, Farley wasn't completely simple. Turning a hobby into a job was hard work, not to mention it wasn't often financially viable. Falling silent, Harlan could probably see the cogs turning as she thought. She was free to chase her dreams now, she supposed, she just wasn't sure if she had any dreams to follow.

"I can't work in a bar," she told him with a grin. "Terrified of them." She sipped at her whiskey, tapping her slim fingers against the porcelain absently. "I always wanted to be a teacher when I was younger," she admitted. "Or a chef. Or a florist." She cracked Harlan a grin. "I'll try anything once."

The mood became somber suddenly as Farley's stomach flipped. Harlan hinted that Simon wasn't a saint and she had wondered why previous assistants hadn't stuck around that long. She offered him a tight-lipped smile, clearly rattled as she cleared her throat. "Narrow escape, then," she joked weakly. Or maybe Simon just didn't like brunettes.

"Ooh," Farley cooed, dark eyes lighting up as she surveyed Simon's chair. It was silly, really, but her heart did a little flip in her chest as excitement thrilled down her spine. It was like the first time she hitched a ride on a motorcycle - exciting. "Can I?" She asked permission anyway before she got up and reseated herself, a hand on the armrest as she wiggled to get comfortable. "I can feel the power," she teased. She reclined in Simon's chair, legs crossed as she looked up at the ceiling. "I feel like I should have a crown and sceptre or something," she laughed.

Harlan attempted to follow as Farley moved from one career to another, each one lighting her up more. It was something that was hard for him to relate to. For as long as he could remember, he had the one option as far as a career was concerned, and that had been entirely dictated by his family. Naturally, that meant he had to take a different direction entirely— quidditch. It dawned on him in the moment how lucky he was to have found that passion so early in his life.

"Unfortunate that you can't combine them all," He quirked an eyebrow teasingly.

He could sense the shift in her demeanor at the mention of his brother and he feared that he'd overstepped in his candor. Then again, Farley wasn't technically working for Simon anymore, they were just drinking his booze, on his desk. Harlan imagined that he was relishing in the irony of it all just as much, if not more than she was.

"Would you like me to owl Simon and ask?" He couldn't fight the grin from pulling at either end of his mouth. His sense of humor likely didn't bode well with that of the American nature but he couldn't help himself. "Go on, then," Harlan added as he gestured once more to the chair before she sat back into it. "Being the boss suits you..." He said finally, having laughed through her comment of a royal indication to go with her newfound appointment.