"No, I wanted to do it here because I've been wanting to blast holes in things for the better part of a week, and this is as good of an excuse to do it as any. Don't worry, if there are any cow orkers on the list, you're not one of them. And I don't just say that because you're the boss."
Charlie would use his own wand, of course. He'd had this wand for years; he remembered passing his old one to Ron when his youngest brother was still in school, years before. It wasn't that he'd really needed a new one then, but Ron had and he could afford it. He'd had it through the war and killed--no, he wouldn't count how many Death Eaters had died at the business end of this wand. War was not a theoretical art for Charlie and he believed in taking every reasonable advantage.
He inspected the wand briefly before taking up his position.
"I don't want to make a Celestina Warbeck production number out of this, but should it become necessary, my letter of resignation is in my jacket." He jerked a thumb back at the door through which both of them had entered. "This was a clusterfuck and we weren't ready. I own a lot of the blame for that because I should have been. Having said that, if I'm still in, I'd rather look at how we can keep the next one like this from going so badly."