The Lifts on level 2 are always busy, partly because the biggest department in the Ministry of Magic can be found here, and partly because members of the public who visit the Ministry often have to do so for legal reasons and this is where they'll end up. The lifts don't only go vertically, so keep that in mind and hold on. Some of them swoop off diagonally, horizontally or even multi-dimensionally, but if you're leaving from level 2, or press the button to arrive at level 2, then this is where you'll end up.

Some of the lifts seem to move a little faster to certain departments than others at different times of the day, and the employees here on level 2 take advantage of that if they have to go somewhere in a hurry.

Step on out (or in) and take a look around. Its just a short walk to the nearest bathrooms, and at the other end of the foyer you'll find the main entrance to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Of course, if you're not just hanging around the lifts on level 2, they'll take you elsewhere.

You are here.

Dale wasn't sure he was ever going to get used to these lifts. They weren't that bad, not really, but he always seemed to manage to hitch a ride in one of them when they were at their fastest. And it was always whenever he'd eaten. Or maybe he was just a 'weakling nerd in body and in mind'. No, Dale was pretty sure it was just the lifts being a right pain.

Once he'd reached his destination, he stepped gratefully out into the main area and immediately put his hand on a nearby wall, just to keep him steady. Dale was 24, supposed to be young, fit, and healthy. But here he was being bested by an elevator.

To avoid anyone, you know, noticing, Dale just... caaaaasually turned his position into a sort of 'cool' leaning up against the wall sort of thing. Just chilling out. Nothing to see here, folks.

If there was one thing that was turning out to be a plus in this Ministry, besides his new partner and the muffin's they served in that cafe hidden in the bowels of the building, it was the lifts. The Spanish ministry never thought to contrive something so unique and intriguing, and in fact he would go so far as to call the transportation between their levels and departments as boring.

And not much ended up being boring to his mind.

But in relation to these lifts, it was a pale comparison. Not only did the lifts exhibit about as much daily variation in temperament as his colleagues, but it provided an interesting place to think and was proving to be rather conducive to problem-solving and question-mulling. Except when there were those sicklies who decided to try the iron of their stomachs against the lift. Never really worked out well. Had been more than one unfortunate smell.

And from the pale complexion of the man that had just departed, Rhydian couldn't help but wonder what gift lay inside the closed doors. "They should really equip these with Sick Bags." He stopped in front of the man, eyeing the numbers above the lift. Which level did he want to go to?

"I'd offer you my lunch bag, but it smells like tuna and well...." Tuna smells didn't go well with nausea.

... Dale was gonna go ahead and guess that the 'casual and cool' leaning up against the wall had not worked out so well for him. He guessed his face had given him away. Wow. Rude. It was a good face, but an absolute traitor.

"I'm fine," he replied, perhaps a little more curtly than he'd intended, given that he was still a little uncomfortable from the ride up here, and also pretty peeved about his betrayer of a face. Dale cleared his throat, stood up straight, and shoved one hand in his pockets instead, and tried again. This time a little more softly. "Sorry. I'm fine, but... thanks anyway." Yeah. Now he was on the right floor, all was good. "Bloody things always manage to catch me out." He eyed the lifts suspiciously, positive they knew exactly what they were doing.

But for the most part, Dale was used to them. As a scribe, there was a lot of moving between departments and stuff, especially going down to the courtrooms and back sometimes multiple times a day, and generally? He could handle it. Add lunch to the mix, however, and all bets were off. Perhaps he ought to start taking a motion sickness potion each morning. Or not; his brother would likely rib him mercilessly.

One of Rhydian's eyebrows went up, a guttural noise of acknowledging disbelief leaving his throat. The man got an eye for a moment more and then a shake of his head. "You mean they spit you out."

Turning back to the doors, Rhydian let his finger hover over the button. Which level. Which level. He leaned forward, straightening his finger and then abruptly stopped. His head swivelled back to the other man. The man he didn't recognize.

He straightened slightly. "Can I help you?"

As in what, good sir, are you doing on our level?

The lifts, she loathed lifts... it had nothing to do with its efficiency, but more so to do with those that occupied the space. People, in close quarters - close enough where talking was deemed acceptable despite her being on a mission and content with ignore the presence of others - as she wished they would ignore hers. Alas, she couldn't avoid it as often as she liked.

Having bypassed the stairs, Emily pressed the button and stepped into the lift as the doors opened. She stood right at the front, hands folded over one another in front of her lap and her gaze front and centre. She would be ready to depart on any level at a moments notice.

Thing was, Rhydian loved the lifts. They were so much fun and such an intriguing design that it was impossible to take any other mode. Stairs were boring. Floos were predictable. He was working on a theory about how to derail a lift, and what one would do in such an emergency circumstance, so he'd often ride them several times over before his shift.

Which was why he was at the lifts early. Which was why he was hurrying towards the now closing doors. Which was why he thrust his arm through the door and wiggled his way inside. A grin lit up his face as he caught sight of Miss Less than Pleased Bosslady. Surely she wouldn't mind sharing a lift. They shared a whole department level after all.

Really, after his last encounter, he should have exerted some more caution. Chosen a different lift, anything to limit proximity. But, not today. Today he had another mission. "Mornin' boss!"

As soon as he was wiggled into the space, he removed his hand with a bow of his head. See? He remembered important things. Standing beside her, his grin firmly in place, he tucked his hat under his arm and pulled out a plastic bag package from under the other. "Was gonna leave this on your desk for you, but figured you'd have charms that might fry it to a crisp. And well, you're here." Yup.

And look. The doors were closing.

She had seen him coming, and made the executive decision not to hold the lift for him... but her lack of intervention was not rewarded. The arm sticking through was the first sign that her day that was going south, and that was soon assured when Rhydian Blackhold took a position beside her... and spoke to her.

"Morning," she greeted in return, content to leave it at that. Hoping they could leave it at that.

The man hadn't made waves in a short while, so there was hope that he was getting his act together, removing his had was also a sign he had learned something. Old dogs could learn new tricks it seemed, not that he was old by any stretch of the imagination, he was still child-like. But men tended to stop maturing at an earlier stage in their life. Was this the extent of Rhydian's maturity? She hoped not.

Her gaze shifted from the YATI to the plastic bag package, and back again. "Then you figured right," she retuned, questioning whether she wanted to know what was in the package or not. Ignorance was bliss, and so she made no immediate moves to accept it. The ding of the doors closing sounding like a nail in a coffin... whose, she wasn't sure of yet.

See? This was a good start. No hexing hats off. A pleasant greeting. An acknowledgement that he had some success. The points were ticking off rapidly. Now, if she'd just take the package, then he'd be completely in her good books. Redeemed beyond redemption.

So, he shook it a little bit, the plastic crinkling in want of opening. "I swear it's not a dismembered limb or an apple." Somehow, those came to mind as the two most common gifts MLE Directors did not want to receive. Another shake and crinkle.

Maybe she had a phobia of plastic bags? Which meant she was part cat, or maybe a cat animigus. Which explained why they didn't get along.

Unfrazzled, Rhydian stuffed his hand into the bag and retrieved the gift with a triumphant "TA-DA!" It was the department hat he'd picked up in the gift shop. A simple black ball cap with MLE: Magical Law Enforcement embroidered in gold on the front. The crest was on the back. Quite snazy for a simple ball cap.

"I present to you, your hat." As in, this was a gift for her. Not something new and shiny he was showing off for himself. He didn't do ball caps, but they were a great introduction for people new and adverse to hats. Seriously. One day he was going to write a book about it.

She should have left sooner, then she would have had ample time to take the stairs... and avoid this.

Why he continued to talk was beyond her, it wasn't something he was particularly skilled at - no gift of the gab here, and yet... the words kept tumbling from his mouth. Not a dismembered limb or an apple? Good to know, but she didn't see how that was relevant, or at least she hoped it wasn't. A quirk of her brow was enough to communicate her distaste for that statement.

The shaking and crinkling of the bag was in no way enticing, he could stop with that. Really.

But then it seemed he'd reached whatever climax he was waiting for. Oh the anticipation...

Her bored expression remained fixed when the hat was revealed. Was he looking for approval? Work hat? Apparently not, not when he followed up the revelation with presenting 'your hat'... meaning her hat? This was a joke, right? Had Legend put him up to this?

...

"I would prefer a dismembered limb," she stated cooly, still not accepting the item.

Wow. That was just....wow.

"Who spit in your cornflakes this morning?" Seriously. This woman had about as much tact as an aggressive poodle. He straightened out the hat for a moment, before glancing back up at her.

Noted on the dismembered limb though. Thoroughly noted.

"How does your family buy you Christmas presents?" Honest question. He was curious. Twisting the brim into it's proper position, he held the hat out to her again. She could give him all the cold shoulder she wanted, he wasn't one to be deterred easily. "You know, where I come from, it's rude to refuse a gift. And last I checked you didn't appreciate rudeness."

She wasn't about to tell him she had double standards, was she? Cause that would change a lot of things about office dynamic. The hat got a wiggle.

Comm'on bosslady. Have a moment of fun. Wasn't like there was anyone watching them. Just them and the lift.

"I'll get you a limb next time. Promise."

Her hearing was perfectly fine, and that comment did not go unheard. Nor was it appreciated. Cornflakes were so pedestrian too, but she didn't respond, her stony silence was a response enough.

Blackhold's question was not an uncommon one, she'd heard it before on occasion, and the answer was simple. "They know better..." know better than to try, and know better than to take it to heart. She'd had a couple of gifts she's liked, but that aside, it was never something she had to worry about. But then he was pushing it, and making an actual point about it too. The one time he demonstrates an understanding of manners, and it's at her expense. Circe.

Emily eyed the wiggling hat a moment longer, willing for the doors to open to let her off... but she wasn't yet nearing her destination.

"I would prefer if you got me nothing at all," she finally stated, accepting the hat though her eyes were still locked on it, questioning what to do with it. "Do you mind if I give this to me son? He's sure to get more use from it than me." Or it could gather dust in an unknown location.

She was not wearing a hat.

See, the problem was because he thought he was getting somewhere, he wasn't paying attention to things he didn't really want to pay attention to. The stony look for one. The sharp comments for two. He was at a break-through, he could feel it. That, or he was about to get a nose-breaking. Either way, something was about to happen....

And he nearly jumped and clapped his hands when it did happen. She took the hat. She took it!

Rhydian was all grins and smiles and pure glee. "Perhaps they don't know how to shop, and you don't know how to receive. I can give lessons." Personal shopper and appreciation trainer on the side, did she know? He'd likely forgotten to include it in his resume.

As it was, he sort of glossed over that point, edging closer to her. "See, not really my business what you do with a gift once you get it. Kinda the point of a gift. But it was for you and uhm...." his fingers did a weird squirmy motion as he lifted his hands and then dropped them and then lifted them again, "you don't mind, do you?"

Surely not. He was going with an answer of no, so long as he could act before she could actually respond.

So, without waiting for a response, and utilizing the element of surprise and confusion over the motion of his hands, he quickly retrieved the hat from what was a surely loose grip, and promptly a-fixed it on top of her head. "There. Much better. See, you gotta get the brim just so." Which, he straightened again, cozying the garment to her head. "And the back just so. And the tilt, just like that. And there you have it."

Holding his hands out to either side, he took a step back, the grin breaking free. "Beautiful!"

Was this YATI for real?

Give lessons in shopping for, and receiving gifts. "We'll pass... thank you," she replied hoping to navigate through this minefield of awkward and awful unscathed. Her family's spending habits were none of his business, and with regard to her receivership of gifts, she was capable of putting on fake smiles for those she cared about. Go figure, he was not one of them.

But he was inching closer, and she valued her personal space.

Circe.

Never. Taking. The. Lift. Again.

He as right about one thing though, it wasn't any of his business at all. None of her business was his business. It was NOBODY'S business but her own. When he asked if she minded, her brows narrowed slightly. Mind what exactly? But before she had the opportunity to ask, the hat was out of her hands (which was a blessing, almost) and on top of her head (most certainly NOT a blessing).

Emily's expression fell slack, and while Blackhold's hands were busy fiddling with adjusting the hat's brim - or whatever, her wand flicked into her palm and a silent descendo and sticking charm was sent at the boy, sending him crashing to the floor, and staying there.

She'd had about enough.

"Do not, touch me again," she warned as she removed the hat from her head, dropping it to where Rhydian lay.

The lift doors slid open and Emily took the opportunity to exit with a careful step over Blackhold's form. "Have a good day." Somebody else could deal with his mess, she had a meeting to get to.

There were two points of head-shaking disappointments. The first being the decline of his lessons. Really, they were golden. She was missing out. He'd offer for free. That was a bargain.

The second was in what followed. What he didn't expect, but really should have. The event that really kept him from shaking his head at all.

One moment he was giving her praise and a very high compliment, especially coming from him, and the next he was eye level with the dust bunnies. Kissing the floor, quite literally. Everything was mushed and stuck in all manner of unseemly ways.

As much as he could, he turned his head to peer up at her. It felt like his face was melding into the floor. He ALMOST pointed out that he didn't touch her. The hat wasn't her, was it? He didn't think so. He would have said so. But that would have involved rubbing his lips all over the floor and who knew what manner of foot and feet walked these halls?

So, he settled for a confused enough frown. One which deepened as she wished him a good day and exited. Yes. Surely. He couldn't have thought of a better way to spend the day. Him and the hat. Side by side. On the floor. Ready for the next patron to ride the lifts.

All-aboard!