| The Holborn Gorilla | |
|---|---|
| IC Date | August 6th, 1935 |
| OOC Date | 01/05/2012 |
| Location | Central London — Ministry of Magic Level 2 — Department of Magical Law Enforcement |
| Cast | Amos Agatha |
| Description | Amos and Agatha talk shop. |
The Ministry of Law Enforcement is a burdgeoning mass of paper-work and administration, filling these brightly lit halls with its pale-wooded desks and teetering mountains of parchment. Suited officials scurry here and there, each one hard at work fulfilling the demands of outrageous bureaucracy. Behind the labyrinth of heaving desks, a thin corridor leads to a series of offices, small capsules designed to satisfy the needs of more senior ministry officials who, after a lifetime of service, have perhaps grown a little old to navigate the jumbled floor every day, and require a corner to themselves.
Agatha Blackwood sits straight-backed in her office. Upon the desk before her is a piece of parchment, written in flowing hand, which she appears to be squinting at through the tiny glasses which perch, rather comically, upon her hooked nose. Everything about her office screams pedantic, to the point of compulsive orderliness: her ink pot and quill stand to attention upon the rim of her desk, and a neat filing cabinet flanks her, ready to serve upon a whim. He robes are fitted, dark, and although satisfying the needs of the current fashion, completely bland. Fit to purpose.
A lazy wave of hellos and brief pleasantries announces Detective-Inspector Amos Merrick's arrival on the second floor; despite being an employee here (and a reasonably well-known one, at that) he is a rather rare sight within the Ministry's walls, generally preferring to handle his business in more… non-magical locations. A middle-aged man in a conservative suit, altogether muggle in appearance, he winds through the desks (and conversations) with a subdued but pleasant smile, hat and a thick dossier in hand. Amos has accommodated for the foreseen delays of greetings and inquiries into his welfare into his schedule: as such, the clock's hands are pointing /precisely/ to the previously agreed upon hour when his knuckles rap lightly upon Agatha's door, announcing his presence a few seconds before he twists the handle.
"Good afternoon, ma'am," Amos says politely, waiting for permission to actually enter. "I've brought the files from the Chief Inspector; do you have time to discuss them?"
Those pale grey eyes flicker up, lingering upon the door for the briefest of moments, before moving back to the parchment clutched in her spindly fingers. And then, in a tight, controlled tone, she says: " Please, come in and take a seat, Detective-inspector."
Amos obeys with promptness, tugging the door shut and stepping into the office with a few efficient motions. The dossier is set carefully on the desk before he moves to take a seat, leaning over briefly to stick his hat safely out of the way between the chair legs. He gazes at her with a polite poker face, hands folded neatly in his lap. "I've some leads into the matter of those jinxed cuckoo clocks in Holborn," the man comments, without further preamble. "I've done my best to muddy the waters from the muggle side of things; hopefully the Ministry can take it from here."
" I see…" Blackwood says curtly, carefully placing her parchment aside and drawing the dossier towards her. Flicking it open with a crooked finger, her flinty eyes examine it for a moment, blinking regularly at exact intervals. Her features seem to be constantly fixed in an expression which, perhaps, has the barest suggestion of boredom.
And then her eyes flicker upwards, examining the detective inspector on the other side of her desk: they have an almost inanimate coldness to them, and combined with the hooked nose, make her appear like a large bird of prey, bemusedly considering whether or not to swoop down upon its victim.
" You know, Merrick…" She says lowly, "… This whole cuckoo affair really seems to be more trouble than it's worth. I shall have to speak with the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department and insure it is handled with greater efficiency…" Her eyes flicker back down to the dossier, and a silver eyebrow lifts somewhat, "… Interesting leads, though. What's all this about… A gorilla?"
"Ah." There is a momentary pause, before Amos says, crisp tone /nearly/ masking a certain resignation. "The gorilla." If he's at all unsettled by his superior's chilly gaze, there's no hint of it in his face; if she is a bird of prey, he is a rabbit that won't be caught off guard.
"Harrods has a juvenile gorilla for sale, alongside the standard monkeys and wildcat cubs and so forth," the inspector explains. "At least, it looks like a gorilla. I am /very/ skeptical of it. Without a wizard taking a look at the matter I can't know for certain, but normal gorillas don't escape their cages and rob fish-and-chip shops in the middle of the night, I shouldn't think."
There is a brief, restrained flash of deep disapproval on Merrick's face; the erstwhile gorilla is clearly not meeting with his approval. The man reaches over to tap neatly on a particular line. "It was seen by a street cleaner near that clock shop, although /fortunately/ the man is a drunk and it was easy to convince him it was a vision of the cup. But I'd appreciate someone looking into it, if you could arrange for that."
Agatha's eyes follow the detective inspector's tapping finger. Her nose twitches once.
" What a peculiar occurence…" She says, her tone remaining unchanged, "… A permanently-jinxed boggart, perhaps? I shall have it investigated immediately. We cannot have a fish-and-chip-pillaging gorilla loose in the streets of London. I should, perhaps, mention something to the Ministry of Internation Relations… We had a case, not too long ago, of ambassadors for the Congo releasing wild jungle animals randomly into muggle stores. Non-dangerous, of course, but highly improper. Apparently, it was a sign of protest…"
Her eyes flit back up. " Is that all, Merrick?"
"I remember hearing about that," Amos comments, poker faced. "Little more than an unkind prank, as far as I'm concerned; they could hardly hope to make a positive impact on anyone's attitude while scaring the daylights out of them. The snake in the toy store was particularly poorly considered. If it had been my own children in that shop…"
He gives a brief shake of his head, then refocuses on the matter at hand. "No, thank you, ma'am." Considering himself dismissed, he leans down and collects up his hat, departing with a few quiet pleasantries back into the Ministry hallways.