Warren narrowed his eyes as Rinatta spoke, no longer having the excuse of the bright light as he wore his tinted shades. Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being talked down to. Ghosts, ghouls, and poltergeist were all elemantary to him.
The gravedigger from Azkaban kept quiet as he looked about the room. He'd play their games as long as they held his leash. His long legs had grown tired of running, he ached only for somewhere to call home. Belonging to the ministry was a harsh adjustment. Uncomfortable was an understatement.
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In over his head |