bd_orla (bd_orla) wrote in beyond_dark, @ 2008-09-04 22:58:00 |
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Entry tags: | * september 2006, antonin dolohov, orla quirke |
Who: Orla Quirke and Antonin Dolohov
What: Orla wants to discretely talk about Milicent with Antonin
When: September 5th, 2006
Where: The Shack
Rating/Status: PG-13/Incomplete
It was all about tiny mentions, never true requests. Orla hadn't wanted to ask for this particular meeting in such an outright way. That would have made her anger such an obvious thing and she didn't want that. She was annoyed, but that needn't be conveyed in the message. It wasn't necessary. Only the message that she wanted to meet need get across.
With a small bit of downtime, Orla sat behind her desk in her small office finishing up her lunch. It didn't take her long and once she'd finished she stood up to straighten herself up. She smoothed out her hair which she was wearing down, a rare occurrence. Her healers robes were perfectly form fitting, clean, and completed her well put together image. The Shack hadn't been very busy that morning and so she'd managed to avoid the usual stains. She was glad for that, because she would hopefully be having a meeting in just a few minutes.
Orla had let it get out just the day before that she wished to speak with Antonin Dolohov. He worked at the Shack occasionally and Orla knew she could have just told him herself, but she didn't want to appear like she really cared. Though she did. She knew Antonin was the one who'd begun the process of cleaning up Millicent Bulstrode. Orla couldn't say that she appreciated that very much, given that since the pathetic little witch had stopped drugging she had stopped getting her weekly sessions.
She more than resented this.
The message she'd sent out had hinted that if Antonin were to be around during the lunch hour, she would like to speak with him in her office. Nothing serious, she'd told the intern she knew would spread the news around, just a few work questions that needed to be attended to.
Orla glanced at the clock on the wall, wondering whether or not he would show up. This wasn't meant to take long.