Sweet Circe! Ian wasn't kidding when he had said the Daily Prophet was getting a make over. Miss Jane Holland was prepared to do a bit of making over herself. Not on herself, no; just of her work area.

She claimed a corner desk, so she'd have extra wall for sticking stuff up on, and got to work unpacking a box that was apparently charmed bottomless. From this she withdrew a terracotta pot, which contained what resembled a venus fly trap. Except it wasn't quite. It liked more than just flies and was semi-sentinent. It appeared to stretch and if it had eyes, one might assume it was looking around groggily after napping on a long distance journey.

Jane placed it on the desk and then unpacked an old jam jar, empty and clean, it was filled with quills and muggle pens and pencils. An orange ribbon was tied in a bow around the top. Next came a picture of a kitty cat hanging from a branch. Just hang in there kitty cat. A few signed pictures of various wizarding world celebrity-types were added to the wall, one of which, a picture of the Keeper for the Italian Quidditch team and stunt flyer, had devil horns and other scribbles defacing it.

Next went a tray marked 'in' and 'out', a folder that was completely filled up with all sorts of things, old articles, notes and researchy things, a large book containing floo and owl addresses, a wall planner went up too, several dates marked off with smiley faces, flowers, love hearts and general scribbles. Her favourite coffee cup had pride of place and a few other odd knick knacks, including a pet rock, were arranged here and there too. Soft comfy cushions went on her chair and a chalk board with cheerfully bright chalk went up on the wall behind her.

Jane turned on her wizarding wireless radio and got to work fixing the curtains by the window of her desk.

Pink.

With polka dots.

Daphne walked into the brand new Daily Prophet offices and ran right into the section editors' office. She couldn't believe they were getting their own area and desks. It wasn't much, but it cemented their status as superiors over the regular writers.

Her high heels clicked against the polished hard wood floors. She had a box full of supplies and looked around which desk to claim. One of her coworkers, Jane, took the corner desk. Daphne grabbed a desk in the middle, that way she could be heard by everyone.

She dropped her things and started to unpack her belongings. "Lovely here, isn't it?" she said nicely, removing a set of quills and placing them on the right side of her desk. "Can't believe these are our offices. I love the design. Much better than the dank old headquarters," she laughed. She grabbed a small desk calendar of famous quidditch players. Nothing better than watching those players fly in and out of the frame all day.

After unpacking her box, she sat down. The chairs could be more comfortable, but she could live with it. She looked at her empty inbox and wondered how long before the owls started piling up.

Startled by a clicking sound, Jane looked up and then instantly relaxed. It was just that nice Daphne girl. She was sweet, even though somehow she managed to make Jane feel old and frumpy simply by existing. This was ridiculous of course, Jane was only 24, getting closer and closer to a full quarter of a century every moment though.

"I'm thinking of setting up an extendable ear from my desk through to the features office." You know, just to make sure they were working hard, not at all to overhear hypothetical conversations between her good friend Hunter and, you know, the boss. Ian. The one with that eyebrow that did things no eyebrow had any business doing.

Not that the extendable ear would at all keep Jane informed about what Ian Hoshino's eyebrow may or may not have been doing, but she was sure she'd be able to judge it perfectly. Yes. It often went with the sneer!voice and always with the I-am-judging-you-intensely voice.

"I do like the office." Jane looked around at her handiwork in her corner. Very comfy. Spying the calendar Daphne put up, Jane hoped furiously that it was a British Quidditch one and not an international Quidditch one. She did not need to see Adriano Toussaint's smirking, self satisfied face. No she did not.

Glancing at the picture on her wall, she mentally amended that sentiment. She did not want to see it unless it was defaced to a satisfactory level.

Nod.

Daphne brushed her pink quill against her face. She wasn't actually sure of what to do. Now that she was placed near the other section editors, she should probably look like she was working.

Jane's presence seemed to reinforce that belief. She was talking about spying on her writers. Daphne nervously chuckled at the suggestion. "I don't think I'll take that approach," she smiled, unrolling a piece of parchment and dipping her hot pink quill into the very black ink.

She caught Jane peeking at her calendar. "Nice, right?" she said, turning it over to Jane to get a better view. "British All-Stars. Calendar's for this year, of course," she grinned. She loved showing her Quidditch pride for all to see. Not that she should hide it, Quidditch was part of her job.

"I don't think I'll keep it a secret." She added, about the ears. It wasn't so much for spying as it was for being accessible.

And also for spying.

Jane relaxed.

"British. Sure. Nice. I'm from Australia originally, so I know more about the Australian and New Zealand league and the Pacific leagues than the British one."

And you know, a few stupid others.

Daphne ogled at her neat desk. Once work really started up, it would be absolutely covered in parchment and papers. "I went to Australia once. Weather was just dreadful in Sydney. Rained our entire holiday, but I hear it can be lovely," she giggled. Reminiscing was one of her favorite pastimes.

Her eyes wandered out to the hallway. "Have you checked out the rest of the office? This was my first stop, to drop off the stuff. Looks really nice. Wonder if there's anything surprising lurking in the corners. Wouldn't put it past the DP editors," she mused. The child in her wanted to explore this new and foreign area, but the adult realized she had actual work to do.

On the way from his office to the Section Editors' office, Ian Hoshino considered Hunter's Mum to be very wise. He wondered on what grounds it was permissible to place a silencing charm on your employees. He'd have to run that by Sienna and have her speak to the Human Resources people.

"I'm coming in!" announced Ian even though he had already opened the door. "And I have a very talkative woman with me. You have been warned."

"I'm NOT," Hunter complained, slipping in under Ian's arm and immediately taking up a corner of Jane's desk. It was her seat. And the desk didn't even slant anymore. "Merlin, I can be practically taciturn. Ask Jane. She knows me best."

And it was true. Jane was a good friend to Hunter, one she was comfortable being loud and boisterous around, and one she who didn't mind the occasional bouts of sulkiness and general moody malaise.

"It can be." Jane agreed, "I just hate how hot and sticky it gets. Its the kind of place where you can't really wear all that many clothes at one time during the summer and I'm a fan of layers." And air-conditioning. Jane was also a fan of air-conditioning.

"No I haven't, I thought it was better to have a base of operations set up first, then I'll hazard the coffee and take a peek in all the other offices." All of them. Every single room would soon have Jane poking her nose in and being curious about the contents and the people who inhabited the room.

That was... Ian? And Hunter by the description. Jane turned around in her seat, big welcoming smile already in place. She laughed when Hunter came in and found her usual perch, except the desk was bigger and far more stable. Oh wait. Was that serious? Jane was supposed to support that one? Big eyes, Jane looked at Ian and nodded at her boss. "Exceedingly taciturn."

She shot a twinkling look at Hunter, "You only need to fill her mouth with food or drink and she'll be positively silent."

Daphne swiveled around in her chair towards the door. "Hello there! What brings you to our humble office?" she asked Ian, while looking at the woman coming in with him. "This place is wonderful, by the way!" she smiled, having a spin in the new chair.

She was mildly embarrassed that she didn't know everyone in the office yet. The woman coming in looked familiar, but Daphne couldn't place a name to that face. "I'm Daphne Jones," she said to the possibly talkative woman. "Editor of the Sports section."

The young editor stifled a yawn. "Coffee would sound good. I doubt the Daily Prophet upgraded that as well," she grimaced, imagining the pot of black sludge that was sometimes called coffee here. It made her gag just thinking about it.

"Oh, yes please. Good coffee and those flakey pastries, if you're buying. And if Ian is buying, I want something gold-plated or dipped in diamonds," Hunter bounced around on the edge of the desk. She would PRETEND that Jane wasn't completely turning on her. And she would turn attention back on Ian, who was ridiculously wealthy to be working here.

Not that she didn't appreciate his company.

Quote:

Originally Posted by LeapFrog

Daphne swiveled around in her chair towards the door. "Hello there! What brings you to our humble office?" she asked Ian, while looking at the woman coming in with him. "This place is wonderful, by the way!" she smiled, having a spin in the new chair.

She was mildly embarrassed that she didn't know everyone in the office yet. The woman coming in looked familiar, but Daphne couldn't place a name to that face. "I'm Daphne Jones," she said to the possibly talkative woman. "Editor of the Sports section."

The young editor stifled a yawn. "Coffee would sound good. I doubt the Daily Prophet upgraded that as well," she grimaced, imagining the pot of black sludge that was sometimes called coffee here. It made her gag just thinking about it.

"Hunter Bones. Lifestyle reporter and sometime travel writer. When we can afford to send me somewhere that doesn't involve mystery meat stews," she pulled a face and stuck out her tongue. If ostrich wasn't so rare in Italy, she'd suspect that was the meat in question... as it stood, it was probably something standard like beef or lamb, overboiled and underspiced.

"Actually, the coffee is improving. And there's a much nicer sofa in there now. I recommend it."

Daphne was amazed by how many people worked at the Daily Prophet. She was still meeting her coworkers after all this time. "Pleasure to meet you, Hunter!" she responded warmly. "I'd love to travel more, but the costs... I suppose it's not too bad though. Don't have to worry about troubling food."

She was surprised that the break room was new and improved as well. "Better coffee? That's something I'll have to taste to believe," she noted suspiciously. She should be trusting the Lifestyle editor on something like food, but Daphne rarely took the word of others at face value. "Well I think I'll go try this better coffee," she announced to the room, in case anyone wanted to come with her.

The Sports Section Editor seemed to be enjoying herself. Her elation was so much she seemed positively oblivious to the fact that Ian Hoshino was her boss and well, she seemed to be doing a whole lot of not-working in his presence. He too was in a rather good mood so he let it slide.

"I thought it was time our working environment received some kind of improvement," stated Ian plainly towards Daphne Jones, keeping an eye on Jane and Hunter's interactions. Hunter seemed to be under the impression that Ian enjoyed spending money needlessly. Brushing the tip of his nose with the back of his hand, Hoshino raised one brow. "You should be happy you had anything at all to eat. There are starving children in the world, Hunter Bones. They'd kill a wild gazelle for some mystery stew."

When Daphne announced her plans, Ian stepped aside, unbuttoning and buttoning his blazer habitually. "You should while you still can. I'm about to announce the new deadlines." Leisure time would soon end abruptly if Hoshino had any say over it.

Daphne was about to get up when Ian spoke again. Ugh, deadlines, she thought to herself, terribly displeased with the work she'd have to do. But sooner or later she'd need to step up and actually work in this marvelous office. After all, her desk was almost devoid of papers, and that was unacceptable in a newspaper office.

She settled into her spot and started prepping for the next deadline. As always, she would dedicate most of her time for the next issue until it was released. Oh well, the mini holiday was fun while it lasted.

Plymouth peeked into the Editor-y type office. He tried to keep out when others were working, but sometimes... the front desk just couldn't keep his attention. He'd frequented Hunter's office, and a few of the other more friendly sort, but it'd been ages since he'd been poked into this office.


They were due.

Ahem.


Armed with a decoy stack of parchment, Plymouth moseyed the rest of the way into the office. "Hehe."

When Miss Jane was out of the office, he liked to leave her "pet rock" little things to "eat" - so he headed that way first. Plus, she had a plant and all and Plymouth was just drawn to it. "Good morning, Miss Jane!" he called before rolling a chair over to sit RIGHT next to her. His finger was already creeeeeeeeping towards the venus fly trap.

Jane's expression was all dreamy. The embarassing kind where its kind of obvious you're thinking inappropriate thoughts about someone. In this case, it was the most recent of Jane's interview subjects. I mean rawr, have you SEEN the guy? Those eyes, that smile, that BODY.

She jumped at the greeting and flushed red.

"Oh!"

And obviously, she recovered.

"Plymouth, sweetie. How are you?" It was easier, in Jane's mind, to treat Mr Plymouth Morgan as a child. He was quite obviously an attractive man, and yet there was something breakable about him, something that Jane identified with and felt the instinctive need to make sure he was okay and nobody messed with him in the ways she herself felt she'd been messed with.

Speaking of which, she caught his finger and diverted it gently away from her plant. Dangerous plant.

"Hehe, it wouldn't bite, you know. We're pals," Plymouth put his hand back down at her coaxing though. If she didn't want him touching her plant, he'd refrain (until she was out of the office, anyway). "I'm bored to tears. Real tears. You ever seen a MAN cry?" His chair scooted as his arm was not quiiiiiite long enough to reach across to the rock. He wasn't going to pet it yeeeeet, but just getting in the right position to.

"Just be careful, Plymouth. "He likes blood and I think he's teething." Insofar as man-eating magical plants could actually teethe. Jane eyed the stack of parchment that Plymouth had brought in with him.

"I haven't. Most of the men I have the misfortune of associating with," And here she glanced at a particular defaced picture on her wall, "Happen to be insensitive jerks."

Her eyes went back to the parchment stack. "Is any of that for me?"

Clearly, Jane Holland was unawares that her secretary's thumb was GREENEST of the greens. He let it go though. She had a rock and a plant and funny pictures and almost always made Plymouth smile.

He too, though maybe less aware of it, had protective sort of feelings for Miss Holland.


"Well.... if something doesn't happen around here soon, you might just see THIS man cry real man!tears." Except, well, not. Plymouth wasn't a crier.

"Hehe. No, no. Well, yes, but no." Plymouth eased the back of his chair around so he'd be side by side with Jane and so she'd have a good view of his stack of papers. Plymouth thumbed through them and straightened his stack -- then FLIPPED through them QUICKLY. On each page was a little stick figure that Plymouth had drawn over and over. He'd made a flip book, a cartoon.

It was his morning usual. "Hehe! I call him Gary!" The stick figure, that is. "Dance, Gary, dance!" HEHEHE

"Well we can't have that. I think I'd probably cry too." And be completely embarassed and flustered and not know at all what to do except pet his hair and pull his cheek against her bosom in order to comfort him. Like a momma.

She eyed up the stack curiously and then let out a little "Oh!" In surprise. Jane laughed, delighted, and leaned forward to get a closer look at Gary. Her mess of curly, unruly blonde hair getting in her way to the point where she used one hand to push the mass of it back out of her eyes, holding it up on her head, painted fingernails just visible where her fingers raked the entire delightful mess of it back.

Underneath all the grins and goofy and HEHE's, Plymouth Morgan was a boy. This whole hair thing during the Gary Show was immensely distracting. His eyes wandered up to her nails, and he got a distinct whiff of shampoo.

Poor Gary never got to finish his show, Plymouth having went slack in his page flipping.


".... I hate when girls cry...." .............. fact?


Plymouth LIKED that her hair was a little messy. His was too most of the time. How people kept TIDY hair was beyond him. ".... hehe."

"I'm sorry. I'm a pathetic mess so really I'm quite liable to cry just for no reason at all," Well, there were often reasons of the prefer-not-to-acknowledge-out-loud variety, "usually while eating an entire tub of ice cream and watching soaps or silly romantic movies that make me feel even worse. So thats like a warning and I'll try my best not to fall apart when you're around, Mr. Morgan." Jane told him, looking up when Gary stopped dancing.

"....hehe." She agreed quite solemnly and then.... her hand. It was stuck. In her hair.

Jane flushed and tried to be discreet at getting her hand free.

"You're not. You're not at all, actually. If you want a pathetic mess though...," Plymouth could introduce her to one. Or, re-introduce as they were already acquainted and sitting together at her desk.


...


"Hehe. Miss Jane. Is your...," Plymouth pointed up at her hand. ".... stuck there?" It was, wasn't it? "I made an indian headdress for Miss Bones once." Plymouth stood up and hovered over her head to get a look at the entanglement. " I got it stuck in my hair and she had to cut me out of it." True story. SO embarrassing. It had taken Plymouth a long time to revisit with Miss Bones after that.

"Oh but I am." Jane insisted. Tug. "I'm lonely and ridiculous." Tug. "And not one of the men I've been in a relationship with has been any bit good for me." Tug. "But because I'm so ridiculous I keep finding myself in the same messes." Tuuuuuug. And any of the legitimate, good types who Jane found herself attracted to, recognised that tragic element to her make up and stayed well away.

... .... ....

She went red. Tomato blush red.

"It... its a bit stuck." Jane agreed, eyebrows shooting up at the little story. She made a mental note to ask Hun.... no. Better not to. Hunter would immediately want to know WHY Jane wanted to know and jump to inappropriate conclusions that'd just make Jane feel even more ridiculous and awkward.

So. Normal sort of thing then.

"I'm not so good at regrowing charms." Or... any charms. Lets face it. Jane's wand wasn't used with all that much frequency. "Don't cut it. Please." Besides. Her hair wasn't knotty. It was just that the curls were so very.... curly. Life and mind of their own.