Quiet Hour

Claire, so far, hated everything about the British and their magical government. Okay, that was a bit of an exaggeration. She really didn’t have too much of a problem with the people, but she definitely did not feel at home among them. They were all so… strange and distant, though she could not determine if this was the fault of them or of her response to them. They could be simultaneously polite as pie, and then incredibly cold and indifferent just a moment later. Perhaps it was just because she was from the American Ministry and had taken on a leadership role so quickly, and there was the usual distrust surrounding her, as anyone would naturally feel.

Government was a strange institution and friends were rarely made there. Claire had known this coming in, of course – had not her entire career been full of this same suspicion and uncertainty?
Still – even at the rat race back home, she had still had friends to rely on, familiarity to get her by. Even her least favorite in the department still somehow managed to tender some feelings of fondness from her systematic heart. Amongst cutthroat competition, snide comments, and backhanded memos she had found some sense of place, a feeling of harmony that made sense. Nothing here made sense. No interaction settled well in her stomach, no document seemed familiar, and no walk around the block felt natural. In short, she could not see herself lasting very long here. Not for want of ability. She would stay as long as she needed to. But she knew she would escape back to Manhattan the moment she was allowed to disappear. The moment Claire Bishop was no longer needed across the pond, she would see to it that she came home.

Besides all of that, she missed her best friend. She had not gone so long without Elsie in… well, she could not remember going this long without seeing her. She missed her New York apartment which had suited her all too perfectly. She missed her office which was comfy and familiar and full of the respect of her subordinates. And she missed the Ministry building, where she felt strong and important and necessary.

She came into work as she did every day. Even with a leadership title, she was still expected to eat among the masses – which just made her isolation more pointed and tiresome. She carried her tupperware, in which her healthy chicken and avocado wrap waited for her. The girl made sure everyone saw her as that Pilates-performing, health-food-devouring, tight-ponytail type professional woman. Few could imagine her devouring cookies late at night, sniffling as she watched terrible romantic comedies. She could imagine it all too easily. So could Elsie. So could her creepy neighbor who stared out his window at her.

She sat alone at a table and began unpacking her lunch, prepared for another quiet hour.

Lunch at the Ministry was always an interesting affair. People from all departments filtered in and out of the staff room, talking about everything from office gossip to the latest crisis the Ministry was experiencing. Lately people had been been rightfully discussing the passing of the marriage law and the entertaining reactions of those who had seen the summons. While some workers were dissatisfied with what was happening, Gavin perceived that most were in denial that the same fate awaited them. As a general rule Gavin tried to go out for housecalls around midday so he could pick up lunch while he was out instead of facing the staff room madness.

Unfortunately (for many reasons) today had turned into an all-paperwork day leaving Gavin's fingers sore and his mind foggy with laws and numbers.

He entered the lounge with paper bag in hand and briefly looked around for any of the boys that he was closest to. When he didn't see them Gavin started moving deeper into the room and looking for an open spot. He turned and saw their new supervisor, Clarissa Bishop, sitting alone. Immediately his mind began a tug of war - to go be kind and give her someone to sit with or to stay connectionless with the boss and just walk away? After a moment of hesitation Gavin made up his mind and walked forward.

"Is this seat taken?"

It would all get easier, of course. Elsie continually assured Claire of the simple fact, and Claire was mature enough to know that things would get easier the longer she was here. She was a logical being rather than an emotional one, so she was not about to jump to the conclusions that she would never be accepted in the British Ministry. In time, they would excuse her lack of citizenship, they would fear and respect her for her position, and she would find a friend or two, surely. Hopefully.

Unfortunately, Claire also knew a bit wiser to the otherwise as well. Yes, externally things would get better - her peers would respect her, her subordinates would fear her, and she would make friends with those who found her clever and attractive company to keep. But there would be no real closeness, no true connections. Maybe a lover or two, of it helped get information, but never anything earnest or sincere. Because, when it came down to it, she was not like the people around her. She was not making a life. She was reporting on lives.

Claire was halfway through a sip of iced tea when she heard a voice over her. She looked up from her salad and saw a man standing there, asking if the seat next to her was vacant. She was a bit surprised that anyone was willing to sit next to her, she still felt so new to the place. "No, it's not. Please," she smiled, pushing the chair out with her foot, offering the smallest of professional smiles.

((Just realized I abandoned this thread like a jerk. Sorry, love))