Who: Peregrine Derrick & Alastor Gumboil What: Alastor knows the way to Peregrine's heart: food When: Wednesday evening Where: Peregrine's flat Rating: Low
Despite his resolution to cook meals in advance, Peregrine's diet had been steadily getting worse. They kept losing people at the Ministry, which meant a heavier workload for those who were still there, and Peregrine swore that the tension kept mounting. It couldn't all be in his head, even though there was nothing in particular he could point at as wrong. People quit their jobs or were fired all the time. The fact that so many were doing so now was odd and inconvenient, but it was only suspicious. And he was doing his best to make it seem like he wasn't suspicious.
He was spending a lot more time at work, which meant less time to cook and even less inclination to cook than usual. Take-away had been his best friend for several weeks now and he was staring forlornly at the contents of a nearly empty refrigerator as a consequence of that. Unless he wanted to go shopping, which was an even less appealing prospect than cooking, he was going to have to resort to a purchased meal again tonight.
A knock on the door was a welcome distraction, though an unexpected one. Peregrine rarely had visitors. He went to his parents' whenever they got together and he didn't have much of a social life. He shut the door to his fridge and left the kitchen, moving into the small living room. The place was neat in the way that only a mostly-empty apartment can be: a bookshelf, a sofa, and a radio (sitting on the floor in a corner) were the only things visible, and the kitchen and bedroom weren't much better off. He glanced over the place by reflex, then opened the door.