oh why haven't you been there for me, can't you see, I'm losing my mind this time, this time

Jack went out for a run that day, as was normal for her. She was a professional Quidditch player, after all, it should not seem out of ordinary for her to go out for a run. Still, Jack had this growing sense of paranoia deep in her bones, and that seemed to promote the strangely justified feeling as though the eyes of strangers were drawn towards her. She was making her way through wizarding territory so she had no qualms about wearing her Hogwarts sweater over her jogging pants; it could not be the emblem that drew eyes. She was left to think it was something to do with her, and she did not like it.

Her emotions pounded within her skull, the emotions she had walled up inside so she could not feel them break the surface and threaten to drag her under. She kept running because there was a rhythm in doing so, and somehow that gave a continuity to the mess of pain that surged and withdrew in a tangled, unorganized mess. Running forced her to breathe in and out in equal portions, making her oxygen flow with the symmetry humans needed to feel healthy. Otherwise, her breaths were shallow, hollow, strained gasps that she had no control over; expelling her breath as though forcing out a toxin, and then waiting in suspended terror for that oxygen to reenter her, always seeming just a moment before all would be lost.

Her focus was so thrown into the actual movement of her feet and the exertion of her respiratory system caused a loss of awareness for her other actions. She did not know where she was heading, she did not think. She was on autopilot, her heart pounding, speeding her along her path, leading her to a place of pain and anger.

And that was how she suddenly found herself in Satan's.

An energy tugged within her, trying to topple her. Her breath shallowed, her body shook. This was another haunt of the life she never again could recover. She swallowed hard and took uncertain steps, still having no certain idea of where she could go. Vito was gone from this place. His last bartender seemed to have taken the place as his own, and was being treated with the reverence the customers had given Vito. Jack was unnoticed - whereas she had once before been a ruler of this kingdom, she was now one of the faceless beggars, only looking on.

And she felt as though she may disappear, right there.

Rivah wasn't a fan of Satan's, not really. While some would be bothered by the atmosphere or the crowd, Rivah didn't really mind either. What she did mind, was being seen in such a place. The witch was a high-up Ministry worker, and while it wasn't unusual for random people to wander into Satan's, it was mostly dark people that came often. So, the woman was very careful with how much she went to the bar. It would be bad if the wrong people got ideas. To most, she didn't seem the type to be a Death Eater, and that was the way she'd like to keep it.

The woman was at the bar sipping on a Butterbeer, thinking about something she should probably get done a the work the next day, when a familiar redhead walked in. Jack Dyllan, her old boss, the two had always good along. It was funny, Rivah thought absently, she was the boss now.

Eyeing up the younger woman, it became obvious that she was tired. No, exhausted. Rivah knew that Jack was a Quidditch player now, perhaps the sports professional had just come from practice. The Death Eater had to admit, her new job defiantly fit Jack better than her old one. Not that Jack was a bad boss, she was a great boss, there are just some things that people are just not naturally suited for.

Getting lost in her ponderings, the twenty six year old began to compare the two of them. To start, Jack had always been more of a doer and Rivah more of a planner. Both had their strengths and weaknesses, but when in charge of a department, planning was pretty important. Of course, there was the Dyllan's almost legendary lack of organization. Rivah was so organized that it could border on obsession. The redhead was blunt, loud, and outspoken, where the blonde always tried but could never quite make herself a people-person. On the magical side of things, Jack was likely fairly powerful, and was said to be quite formidable in a duel. The Trenton suffered from low levels of power, something she hated more than anything. Lastly, Jack was a member of the Order, and Rivah a Death Eater. The witch fretted over the fact that she might one day have to face the other woman in a fight, the guilt could sometimes get overwhelming.

Pushing her thoughts aside and figuring that the other witch mightn't see her, Rivah stood up with drink in hand. Walking towards her once-boss, the blonde waited until she was a few feet away before saying, "Jack, fancy seeing you here! Sit down with me would you, I'd love to hear your thoughts on the Department."

This felt very different. She felt different. How could everything so incredibly different from only a few months before? She used to take the club by storm. The bartender would hide, the customers would begin their gossiping, and the whole place seemed to shiver as though they could sense it's masters' oncoming reign of terror. Back then, Jack walked in like a royal.

And then, the master moved on. Leaving the kingdom to rot and wane, its peasants continuing their toil with desperation and confusion. And a true ruler did not take the throne willingly, but only did it when it was only absolutely necessary. And so Jack had taken Satan's as her kingdom.

But this was not the way she wanted to inherit it. She did not want it to be hers because Vito was gone. But it was hers now. She had to deal with that.

A voice caught her attention and her head jerked upwards, eyes searching for the person. She spotted said person - Rivah Trenton. Ah, Rivah! Jack swallowed and forced on a smile of sorts, more of a confused, strained grimace. She raised a hand and then approached, sitting next to her. "Hey, Rivah. How have you been doing?"

Rivah had never been great with reading faces, but she knew there was something different about Jack. The last time she'd seen the other woman in the bar, she'd stormed in like she owned the place, ended up in a disagreement with the poltergeist that actually owed the place, had looked completely at home here. Now the witch looked vaguely uncomfortable. Rivah wondered if it was the lack of the poltergeist that did it. Jack was a light witch after all, and it did make sense that she would feel out of place in Satan's without someone she knew around.

In accordance to rumor the poltergeist had gone on a leave of absence, a vacation of sorts. In his absence, Satan's was to be left in the management of a friend. It was unknown who that was though, the idea of the temperamental being having a friend at all was questionable enough for most.

"I've been alright," Rivah replied after a moment, "the Department's been alright too, even if some of the guys do miss your antics. How have you been Jack, enjoying Quidditch?"

Rivah began to walk towards a slightly quieter area of the establishment, glancing over a shoulder quickly to make sure her ex-boss was following. About half way to her decided location, the Ministry worker changed direction mid step, heading towards the bar instead. She could used a re-fill on her butterbeer, and Jack would probably want something as well.

Jack really hadn't heard much from the Department. Her special team had all but disbanded once she had left. Bernice had quit shortly after Jack because she had been recently married and was now due with a baby girl. Carnie had requested a transfer into the Department of Mysteries and somehow gotten the job. Teddy remained, but was laying low. Still, he was her only informant. Lately, though, they just hadn't been in contact. His mother had come down with a terrible case of dragon pox and was relying on him to take care of her, so Jack had been mostly in the dark.

She was, however, connected to enough people to know that RIvah had stepped up as new Department Head after Sawyer got fed up with the Ministry and run back to Romania to play with his dragons. Jack grinned at Rivah's statement. "Ah, well, not every boss insists on using interns as transportation, but it keep morale high."

How was Quidditch, huh? "Well, we've been working hard for the next season. The Falcons have been making a comeback in the past five years, and some of the better, less commercial are ranking us pretty high. So, yeah, it's been fun. Beats paperwork. How's that coming, by the way? I heard they gave you the job. Congrats."

"True," Rivah responded with a slight giggle, "half of them are still complaining about not being allowed brooms to more efficiently get from one side of the department to the other." That had been one of the first rules the woman had gotten rid of, apparently Sawyer had found it amusing.

"I did revamp The Cubicles though, to make up for my crushing of hopes and dreams with the likeness of a tyrant, in accordance to Samuel anyway. By Merlin, you'd think that man was seventeen sometimes, not thirty four!", the witch shared, very amused. Samuel was the department jokester of sorts, he was nice to have around on a slow day.

"Thanks, it's way more stressful than anyone tells you, but it's great. All the paperwork's a nightmare, I envy you there. Glad the Falcons are a good fit for you, I'll definitely be keeping an eye on your stats as the season starts," Rivah said truthfully. It was funny, everyone expected the woman to not follow Quidditch, or be completely uninterested in the sport. The witch was actually quite the fan, and decently talented herself. If she'd trained for it, she might even be able to play pro herself, it amused her to no end when people avoided using complex sports terminology around her.

Jack grinned, saying, "Well, to be honest, the rule wasn't for them to enjoy, it was for me. I just had to make it department-wide so as not to get heat when the whinier interns complained to the superiors." She smirked.

A waitress dressed in skimpy clothing walked by and Jack reached out to catch her arm. "The usual, please, Lois?" The dancer gave her a quick little look full of judgment, but smiled a little resignedly before flouncing off.

Jack chuckled. "Sam. Call him Wham-Bam Sam, it puts him in his place. Overheard him christen himself with that name with a few of his big, buff buddies and I turned it into a living nightmare for him."

Jack had a track record for doing that to people.

"The paperwork ran me out of that place," Jack said. "I do enjoy the Falcons more, but I do miss dragon-wrangling Wednesdays." The waitress delivered her wine and Jack toasted her, saying, "Add it to my tab." She looked back at Rivah. "How's it feel? Being on top, that is."

Rivah rolled her eyes with a chuckle, "of course, that rule would've been for you." The woman supposed it wasn't a horrific thing for the people who were decent fliers, but not everyone who took advantage of it had talent on a broom. The witch still remembered the day that one of the secretaries had shattered his arm.

"Wham-Bam Sam?" the blonde asked incredulously, "I may be temped to change the name on his file. Sometimes, I really do wonder about that one." Rivah lips were turned up in an amused smirk. She'd have to save that one.

"The paperwork isn't too bad once you get used to it. Tedious, yes, but I'm getting through it twice as fast as I used to," Rivah admitted with a shrug. The woman was really glad she was good with numbers, otherwise she'd probably have experienced a mental breakdown by then.

The Death Eater smiled some more at the mention of Wednesdays. "Never fear, I may have changed some things, but I'd never get rid of Wrangling Wednesdays. You're welcome to come in one Wednesday if you want. I'm sure everyone would be glad to see you, and I'll turn a blind eye if you join in. Merlin knows you're still qualified, even if you aren't technically a part of the department anymore," the woman told Jack with a secretive grin.

"Being on top? It's nice. I mean, I never really had the problem of terrible bosses. But it's definitely nice to be in charge, make the hours, the respect. I definitely didn't get that when I was a Beast Worker, still got some stuff from the guys in the Spirit section. It wasn't too easy being one of the only girls in the whole place, and now I'm the boss," Rivah's tone was amused the entire time she spoke. The woman hadn't really thought about it, but now that Jack had asked, the answer flew from her lips.

Jack felt very far away from this conversation, and she felt especially far from Rivah in this moment. Then again, she felt very far from everyone lately. It just seemed so strange that she was inside Satan's; this felt almost surreal, the return to this place of importance without those who made it so important.

But she supposed the best thing to do was to simply act as normally as possible. How horrid would it be if those she used to work with thought she regretted leaving, regretted moving on with her life. She took a long drink from her wine, drinking more than what it looked like. She didn't need to affirm the rumors that she was a drunkard.

"You're a better woman than me," she said, toasting her about the paperwork. "Careful, I may take you up on Wrangling Wednesdays." She took another drink. "Don't be afraid to bully those fools. It's the best, quickest way to get things done your way."

Rivah though it a bit odd, the way Jack was acting. She wasn't the best with people, no matter how much she liked to pretend otherwise, but she knew the redhead was acting a bit strange. The way the other witch looked around them, seemingly admiring the décor was quite unusual. The blonde was also almost impressed by the way Jack managed to look so at home, yet so uncomfortable at the same time. Rivah wouldn't pry, she rarely ever pried. Then again, Jack wasn't her usual non-work crowd, her usual crowd would rather curse you than admit to their feelings.

The witch was pleased that she seemed to have gained Jack's approval. It wasn't something she needed or even had really wanted, but it was certainly nice. Allowing herself a laugh, the blonde took a sip of her butterbeer. "Don't worry, they hardly mess with me now. I added something of a Hall of Fame board of the wall outside my office, top employee statistics and all. I'm on there more than once, and it's turned into my way of boosting morale," Rivah informed her old boss, a slight smirk curled upon her lips.

"And you should take me up on the Wednesdays, it'd be fun," the unusual dark witch added, before going back to nibbling on her lip.