Oh. Well that bloody blew like a cheap whore. Orpheus frowned a little into his drink, pleased she had been willing to share the information, less pleased about what the information actually was. "Italy, sounds exciting," he said offhandedly, taking a sip. He was probably behind a few days on some paperwork then. It figured as much.
"Well, I have to say," Orpheus began finally after a silence that was probably only painful to his own ego, "that your job sounds awfully more interesting than mine." Was there really any way to put this tastefully without burying himself in the ground?
"My day was spent compiling reports and checking source data on a recent excursion of your's to Russia. I handed in the complete draft just before I left tonight," he murmured into his glass. That was why he'd always known she was such a hard ass, her notes lent to her personality. Then again, with initials like J.W. it wasn't entirely his fault he hadn't known she was his superior. It also helped that since he had discovered J.W. was a woman, O.T. had always been very courteous in his internal memos requesting that she finish off a transcript he seemed to have spilled coffee on misplaced the final page of.
"I'm on the records staff in the Department of International Magical Relations actually. Perhaps we've ridden the lift together and never even known," Orpheus tried to keep the ridiculous grin off his face but didn't really manage. This whole thing was too ironic for his own taste and the only way he was summoning to deal with it was humor. How had his life come to this?
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