F, ALICE.
Alice didn’t often have nightmares, but when she did, they were really bad. She spent the entire night tossing and turning, dreaming about green flashes, a horde of wizards in dark cloaks running, chasing her. Screams of her friends and family. She only blamed herself, the night previous she had let her anxiety get to her, spending the hours before bed worried that she would never be good enough to be of actual help to the Order. She made the decision to give up on sleep and come in for work 2 hours early. The ministry was quieter than the usual morning rush but still had a decent flow of workers coming and going. After she arrived through the floo network, she went to the Daily Prophet stand to see what chaotic news today had in store. She reached for a paper and bumped hands with another customer. “Oh, sorry. You can take that one.”
there’s something masochistic in reading the news, skimming headlines for names or faces he recognizes. often times he finds nothing, feels his shoulders relax and puts a spring back in his step, and in others he flinches and sets himself on edge for the day. maybe it would be easier to bury his head in the sand, try to ignore the state of the world these days, but taking the EASIER path has never been his shtick. no, you could argue that he does the opposite; he makes things much harder than they ever needed to be. today’s no exception: he’s running late, stumbling out of the floo as he heads towards the department of magical law enforcement. grabbing a prophet’s simply part of the routine -- though he doesn’t often knock hands with someone else doing the same. “ nah, i wouldn’t dream of it. ” he hands the copy over to her, reaching for the next one for himself. “ LADIES FIRST. ” it takes a minute before his sleep-addled brain makes the connection, a genuine smile gracing his features when he recognizes her. “ oi, alice ! you’re here early. ” given he doesn’t roll out of bed more than twenty minutes before he has to get the floo, the concept is entirely lost on him.
