Fletcher wouldn't necessarily call it avoiding his duties. No. He wouldn't call it that at all. It may appear that way, but he was certainly not doing that. No. He had sent his men and women off to gather Xenophilius Lovegood and that was what he was meant to do. He'd be sure to check on them.
He closed his eyes, checking his reflection in the doors of the elevator. He still looked fine. Didn't look as tired as he felt or as much like he was going to kill every last moronic idiot in his department. At least he was good at hiding that. That was a relief. He straightened his robes and pushed the call button.