This is Not Brunch, This is Hell
WHO: Kit Ghezzi, Sal Staunton-Perksmoore, Maya Stone [NPC]; Miles Hastings and Pamela Knight (in the flashback) WHAT: In Which the Communications Support Staff Commiserate Over Their Co-Workers WHERE: DMLE Offices, Salem, MA WHEN: Sunday, October 22, 2017, 8:15 AM WHY: Because day drinking while on the clock is generally frowned upon RATING: PG to PG-13 STATUS: Complete
"I could be having brunch," Sal grumbled to herself as she pulled off her jacket, and set it to float over to a coatrack that hung along one side of the wall in the temporary offices they were using. She had only paused once when entering the room to look at the complete wreck; there was no way it had looked this bad before the night before. If she didn't know any better, she would have sworn someone had staged an elaborate war in here. A deep sigh left her.
"With mimosas," she continued, flicking her wand at some of the papers that littered the floor. With a small whirlwind, they flew up and settled into several neat stacks on one of the tables that had somehow missed being completely wrecked within the last twenty-four hours. It was the weekend, so of course there was no coffee waiting. There was still some in a carafe nearby, long gone stone cold, but beggars couldn't be remotely choosers- and she wasn't remotely proud when it came to that sort of thing. Pouring the sludge into an empty mug, she charmed it to boiling, and then started a new pot. Chances were the office wouldn't stay empty long, so it was the nice thing to do. The humane thing to do.
It hadn't been very long since she had taken another dose of the potion she needed to suppress her legilimens ability, so she could still hear faint echoes of the thoughts of other people in the building, but they were quickly fading. It was a good thing, too, since her head was already throbbing.