 Bathes in Maple Syrup | Dancing Lobster | Moy Pomidor | Seneca's Beard | That Is So Fetch!
Faustus gave a faint, humourless smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes, as Simon spoke. His gaze momentarily shifted to the work area beyond, as though trying to bore through concrete walls and polished floors.
"No apology necessary, Bennett. You're doing your job," he said at last, the words clipped and formal, implying genuine respect for the man before him. Others in Simon's division, however... the Commissioner had his doubts. "What matters is how we bind these fragments into something whole."
A measured step forward was made, closing the space between them by a fraction. "A Polyjuiced intruder slipping into a Wizengamot hearing though—that kind of infiltration is orchestrated. It requires knowledge, coordination, and, most damning of all, access. Someone," his tone hardened as his eyes narrowed slightly, "either gave it or failed to be vigilant enough to notice the signs and stop it. I trust you're accounting for both possibilities."
He didn't wait for a response before continuing. "Conveniently for you," he stated as he held out the memo, revealing that he had been three steps ahead already, "I've just gotten provisional clearance for your division to operate under. Shouldn't be any issues besides having to endure the occasional tantrum from those who believe their egos outweigh protocol." He didn't smirk, but the implication lingered like a shadow. Names didn't need to be named; they knew who was bound to express disapproval.
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