James was running late.
Exasperated yelps and swears followed him as he darted through the haphazard collection of desks and chairs, though he paid little mind to the frustrated people in his wake. He was going to get an earful when he finally arrived where he was expected to be nearly a quarter of an hour ago. But the key to making it for that earful was to not impale himself on the end of a table or decapitate himself by mistakenly running into the flock of memos soaring around the office.
(He wasn’t truly worried about doing such a thing, as he’d never heard of such a gruesome injury in his three decades of life, but that didn’t mean he wanted to make it in the records as the first. Sirius would never let him hear the end of it once he finally joined James in the afterlife.)
The meeting had to be happening in the boardroom at the furthest end of the building, of course. When he finally skidded to a halt in front of the closed mahogany door, he took a moment to compose himself, slipping quick fingers down the front of his robes and then through the tangle of curls atop his head. As quietly as he could, he pressed open the door and slipped inside the room.
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