May 2nd, 2098

15:23:33 [Harjo] One of the American delegation had been "attacked". Not really, but from the uproar the portly little man had caused, you would think that someone had come after him with a knife and muggle gun. It had fallen on Harjo to calm him and separate him from the situation, and the results had not been overly pretty. The man's reactions had been wild and unpredictable, and Harjo had a fat lip, black eye, and gash along her collarbone to prove it. The congressman, a Mister Gary Olberding - representative of the state of South Dakota, had been restrained and secured and given a meal alongside his anxiety potion. How the man was still in any sort of elected office was beyond Harjo, but then she also didn't vote in South Dakota. Oregon had much different representation. A long suffering sigh escaped her lips as she made her way back toward the main action, preparing to take a statement from the man who had instigated the "attack". Someone else had already questioned him, the British Ministry had been alerted to the incident (as the man was an English wizard), but Harjo needed to ask him a few questions of her own. She managed, even with a bloody lip, collar bone, and black eye, to look professional…if a bit intimidating. Black slacks, smart black heels that she could run in, a nicely fitted dark blue blouse with silver pinstripes, and her hair managing to stay tame despite the incident she'd just dealt wih…Yep. Professional to a T. "Mister…I'm sorry. I don't think I caught your name."

15:34:40 [Hippolytus] Yes… yes, the British Ministry was really the pinnacle of civility and professionalism in the world today, wasn’t it? “ Botts… doing anything?” Hip, who had been banishing a single pencil at a time into the Department of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts every three minutes for an hour now to see how long it took them to call up and complain, hadn’t been able to say that he’d been doing anything of particular use at the moment. “Good. Go check on this ballyhoo with the Americans at the Conclave, will you? They asked me, but I’ve been looking forward to taking this shit all morning.” And with that, the wizard with the Daily Prophet under one arm took his leave and Hip had gathered himself up to make an appearance on Diagon Alley. Appearing out of one of the registered floo grates in a burst of green flame, he tugged his smart yellow and black robes straight and tugged the brim of his fedora down as he made his way to the scene. In one hand, he still had a steaming mug of black tea. After flashing credentials, he was ushered to the right place by another American – maybe an assistant to the official, he wasn’t sure. “Well is anyone dead?” he asked – probably only because he knew no one was – as he approached those who were already dealing with the State side of things.

15:43:06 [Harjo] A quill floated above a pad of paper, which hovered at Harjo's elbow, as the man explained that he had meant no offense to the congressman and had simply bumped into him as a result of someone else bumping into him. Harjo had worked very hard to maintain her professional interest, but it hadn't taken long for her eyes to glaze over. No surprise there, the person at fault for the entire incident was Mr. Olberding. A deep breath escaped her, and she lifted a hand to rub her eyes, only to stop with a sharp intake of breath as the black eye reminded her of its presence. "I apologize for the inconvenience, Mr. Saxon. Congressman Olberding clearly overreacted to an honest mis-" She cut off and lifted her head as she heard someone making his way to the scene. British Ministry, now that they weren't really needed. But Harjo was just following protocol. "I'd say fortunately, but today's a drag, so maybe I should say unfortunately." Her voice was calm and mild, holding only the faintest hint of the sarcasm her words expressed. "Mostly just an idiot congressman jumping at nothing and causing more harm to his own." Harjo's lips pressed together in a thin line. She was, obviously, one of the ones who'd taken some injury…though judging by the fires being doused and the American auror with the broken arm, she hadn't taken the worst of it. "Jules Harjo, and you?"

15:52:45 Hippolytus came to a halt beside the woman who seemed to be taking charge and took a pensive sip from his mug. Not a bad way to start a day – nice cup of tea at the scene of a mildly international Event. He dropped the mug back to waist height with a crooked arm and smiled a little. “Mm.. They called it a ballyhoo back at the office – thought that sounded serious so I came down.” He took a moment to eye those being treated for injury, then let his discerning gaze fall more keenly on the woman beside him. “Good lord, the congressman did that? I suppose you grow them differently in the States. Over here, they either call you names, or blow something up. Not much in the middle.” He crossed an arm over his body to offer to her to shake. “Hippolytus Botts. Pleasure to meet you, Jules Harjo. … I’m not really needed here, am I?” Though that didn’t seem to have him shuffling on his way as he took another sip of tea. “I suppose I can wait around and see if anyone is filing anything might as well save you the floo powder.” Only one side of his smile decreased at all as he added. “Anything to keep us busy, eh? Ever feel like a bit of a beat cop between cases?”

16:00:27 [Harjo] A dark chuckle escaped her at the question about the congressman, and Jules took the offered hand and gave it a firm shake. "Probably not. Only reason we alerted the ministry is to make sure that my boss didn't have fits about proper protocol." She shrugged as if it weren't any skin off her back…and in reality, it wasn't. She didn't handle the majority of the paperwork. "In my experience, most American congressmen are more restrained than Mr. Olberding. Man's touched in the head. Only reason he's still in office is because everyone is too scared to run against him." Which was true enough. The last time someone had challenged Olberding for his seat in the Wizard's Congress, they'd found themselves in a world of terror for the few weeks between the announcement and their withdrawal from the race. "At this point everyone's waiting on him to keel over." She pulled her wand from the holster at her hip and sighed, waving it over her eye and muttering. The black eye began to fade, and the cut on her lip knitted itself shut. That was about as good as Harjo could do with healing, though. "Only when I have to travel." She replied to the question about being bored. "I wasn't originally coming to the Conclave, but someone requested me by name. More bored here than I have been in my entire career." Which wasn't entirely true, but at least at home, Harjo had cold cases that she liked to go over when there was nothing else to do.

16:10:08 Hippolytus smiled, returning his spare hand to his pocket now and lifting his mug for another sip. “I’ve spent some time in America,” he confessed. “Not for anything political, but the family I was visiting were pretty involved in the South. Where’s this bloake from?” Hip had, like many of his countrymen visiting the United States for the first time, had a moment of extraordinary realization when he was reminded of just how big the nation was. Different corners had cultures about as different as nations in Europe, so he had to remember that he wasn’t exactly an expert on all of them. He glanced to the side as the Auror patched herself up. “Well, aside from kicking off with a dark wizard attack and a kidnapping…” he said with an expression that looked slightly less content than before. “I suppose I should count my blessings that this and a few loose baby dragons were all I’ve been called in for specifically.” His smile returned, slightly cheeky now. “Top of your class, are you?”

16:16:41 [Harjo] "Olberding is from South Dakota. Which is like the south, except colder and flatter." Harjo's nose scrunched. She didn't like the plains. Not enough trees or mountains for her. The mention of a dark wizard and kidnapping was met with a side-eye and a tilt of her head, but Harjo simply smiled. "Not my division." She replied. "Last I checked, we Americans weren't getting called in to handle anything outside of our delegates unless the Ministry or Conclave asked." Harjo gave a helpless shrug. "I'd have taken up helping against a Dark Wizard if it meant a break from the prattle of the congress witches and wizards." A huff escaped her, and at his cheeky smile and question, she simply shrugged. "You tell me." Harjo didn't brag. She didn't need to. Her work spoke for her. Of course, when someone was considered to be on the fast track for head-of-the-department it either meant they were good, or they were paying to get there. "Sounds like your lot have had a more interesting Conclave than mine. Aside from this. I can't say I'm not jealous." Harjo was an action person. She thrived in the moments of having a case, a problem. It was why she had latched onto the group in the US that even now some rookie was hunting in her stead. She was going to murder her boss for that. Not really.

16:30:30 Hippolytus squinted at a nonspecific point down the street as he tried to conjure up a mental map of the United States. “And South Dakota is, in fact, somewhat northern, am I right?” He shook his head. “To be honest, I’ve only been to Louisiana and then New York once.” He paused, then lifted his mug in a little unspoken toast to #notmydivision. He’d found that was something of a universal mantra among Aurors. Politics were politics and had little to do with finding bad guys. His gaze slid down to the British man who was finally being excused from the sight of the kerfuffle. Hip gave him a nod and watched him depart. “More interesting, I guess, but very red tapey after a while,” he replied to the woman, voice lowering just slightly. “As usual when someone shows up, wand blazing like that.” He shook his head and frowned. “I thought I’d had my fill of dark wizards in ’92 and ’93, but it turns out I’d rather be out tracking them down than pretending they aren’t there.” He took a long, last sip of the bitter portion of his tea and wrinkled his nose. “God. That got bleak quick. Sorry. So what is your division?” He poked himself in the chest, “Investigation, but you wouldn’t know it – like I said, I was helping round up baby dragons last week.”

16:41:54 [Harjo] "Northern plains, yeah. Middle of the country basically, but up toward Canada." She shrugged and then nodded as Hip mentioned Louisiana and New York. She'd been all over the US. "New Orleans and New York City?" She asked, glancing at him and arching an eyebrow. They were the primary draws in those states, after all. "Mmm. Everything in our work is red-tapey. It just depends on whether you're the one who has to deal with it or not." She gave a slight shrug and then smiled as he mentioned the Anhuala War. Yes, she understood that sentiment very well. "I think most of us thought we had our fill five to six years ago, but it doesn't take long for the itch to resurface." She glanced over at Hip as he mentioned his division and asked about hers. A snort escaped her. "Technically investigation. Muggles would classify me as a detective." She lifted a hand and drew her fingers through her hair, pulling it out of her eyes. "I'm being groomed for head of the Oregon division of American Aurors." And from there, she was sure, head of the national division. Joy. "I find that means my supervisors think that they can have me do whatever extra job that needs filled, though." She rolled her eyes and took a steaming cup of coffee from someone that walked past her. There was a pause, a brief meeting of the eyes, and the other American auror abruptly dropped his gaze and kept walking. "Temple! Let his royal highness know he missed Olberding." The man went tense, glanced back at her and nodded once, then hustled on. Harjo exhaled. She could relax with aurors from other countries, because she had no need to remind them of who was in charge. Her own people? Less relaxed. Annoying as hell.

16:55:41 [Hippolytus] “New Orleans and Rome, actually. Just… family business.” Which was just about as full of red tape as going there for work! But the Whitakers were a very powerful family, so he was sure he hadn’t gotten much of a taste of what life was like for MOST wizards and witches in the States. He disliked the isolation of the old families – something that had been made so clear to him after the war that it was hard to imagine the rest of his family simply not seeing it. He rolled his mug between his hands and his lips between his teeth. He’d thought he’d feel better trying to mention to the war to another auror, but he was left with that build up of discomfort and pressure in his chest – a feeling that he could do no more than mention it in casual passing. ‘The war’: some landmark in time that had happened and everyone had shared. He nodded silently to Harjo’s mention of the itch, unsure if he was agreeing in exactly the way he indicated. When he lifted his head again, he’d raised his brows at the woman. “Is that so? Well. Cheers. Good luck with all the bullshit.” He didn’t know where Oregon was, but all head offices were pretty much the same in his experience. He glanced back over a shoulder as the woman’s underling hurried about his duties. “I’ll clear out here soon – they’re bound to notice I’m away a bit long for telling a bloake to keep his nose clean and carry on.”

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