Morag, easily distracted by a healthy swagger, cocked her head towards Miles as her colleague confirmed he didn't have plans that afternoon -- well, no more plans than usual. They weren't exactly idle in the DMLE on the best of days, and this week wasn't the best of anything, except maybe pub brawls.
Hooking her thumb behind the handle of her wand, firmly holstered, she leaned into the corner of her desk, posture lazy, feet bare, hair a disaster. She didn't look very respectable, but when she spoke it was with authority, bemused though it was.
"Take those glasses off, you look a cheeky prat. We're underground in case you forgot."