Or Hardly Working

Brock lounged in his office, looking around with a slight disinterest. He would have to redecorate. It was MUCH too professional in here for his liking.

His feet were propped up on the desk, his robes slung over the back of the visitor's chair and his hair sticking straight up from the last time he'd brushed his hand through it. His beaten up Nike sneakers looked worse in the light of the office, and his button up shirt and jeans were almost... too casual.

Just the way Brock liked it.

With a wolfish grin, the man laced his fingers together behind his head and basked in his newfound power.

Eli opened the door to the auror's office. His hair was a mess, having not been combed for a week, and he was wearing the same robes he had been wearing for three days. The man didn't look dirty- he made sure to at least stay clean, just significantly disheveled.

He wandered into the Head Auror's Office, and looked around, trying to remember why he came in here. His eyes landed on the man at the desk, and some form of comprehension dawned on his face.

"Hi, you're Brock, right?" he smiled at him warmly, "Welcome to the Ministry! We can't wait to have you on our team," he gave another blank smile and turned to head out the door. He had just crossed the threshold, when he finally remembered why he was here.

He whirled around, feeling the victory of finally having control over his own state of panic. "Also," he put his hand on the frame of the door to both steady himself and look cool, "Someone made an attempt on the Minister's life yesterday. We should probably catch them."

Brock glanced up from his examination of his sneakers to the man standing in his doorway. "Brock's the name." He verified, grinning. "Thanks."

He grinned, reaching into his pocket for a piece of paper and scribbling something on it, folding it into a neat paper airplane and letting it fly toward Eli's head. "Here. Be there at that time on that day, and everything will be done in the investigation." He cocked his head to the side slightly as he returned his hands to behind his head.

"You look mighty stressed, mate. Fancy a drink?" Without waiting for an answer he was in motion, summoning his backpack and pulling out a verity of liquors and alcoholic beverages, lining them up neatly on the table, labels facing Eli. "Take a seat....but not in that." Brock frowned at the uncomfortable looking chair on the other side of his desk, taking his wand and waving it, transfiguring it into a comfortable-looking arm chair. "There we go. Take a load off, man."

Eli reflexively caught the paper, a preoccupied frown on his face. He opened it and looked at the words scribbled on the page, then nodded and shoved it in his pocket. "Thanks," he mumbled hurriedly, and turned to the door.

That is, of course, until he heard the word "drink", and he spun around, "Merlin, yes." He headed straight for the table, where he stood for a moment, surveying the different bottles. Then he grabbed a glass and began fixing his favorite cocktail. If anything, mixing the drink was much more therapeutic than the alcohol in it.

He fell into into chair and slowly sipped his drink, "You seem surprisingly relaxed for a Head Auror. Most of the guys I've known in this position were too paranoid to trust a clock with keeping the time."

Brock clapped his hands together as he watched the man mix his own drink. "At last! A decent bar-keep. Where's your place? Bite me? Leaky Cauldron?" He tapped himself on the forehead. "That's it, that last one. You own it, don't you?" He cocked his head to the side as he claimed a few of the bottles himself, mixing himself a concoction he'd thought of ages ago. He called it 'Rolling Thunder'.

"I learned a very long time ago that stress is for losers and relaxation is for winners. I work smart, and not hard. It's the easiest, and most efficient way to go about business." He shrugged. "Besides, if I don't trust clocks to tell time then I'll have to tell time. Less work for me if I just let the clocks believe their right. Makes more people happy." He took a sip of Rolling Thunder, grinning around his glass.

Eli laughed and leaned back in his chair, a little puzzled and very impressed. He narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side, "If I were the owner of the Leakey Cauldron, then why would I need to work here?"

Eli chuckled again, "Whatever you say." He didn't agree with an ounce of what he said, and frankly thought most of it was complete hogwash. Needless to say, he liked Brock already.

Brock shrugged. "Don't look at me. My sources are almost never right." He tipped back his drink, chugging it all in one go, before beginning to mix another.

He lifted his glass to the man. "I like that. A man who can agree when he doesn't agree. Working together will be a blast." He paused, eyeing Eli for a moment before nodding. "How would you like to become my right-hand-man Eli? You'll be paid to run around and do my dirty work, but we'll just sit here and drink now and again, while the others do it. It's an upgrade for no reason." He nodded. "Good! Good! Welcome to the team, though you should be welcoming me...." He shrugged and slung back another drink before setting down the cup. "There. Nice buzz going. I'm ripe to meet the minister."

"A pay raise with no extra work," Eli laughed, "Now that's something I can agree to." And besides, Brock was right. Working with him would be a lot of fun. Eli swirled his drink thoughtfully. If he had extra money, he might even be able to help support his sister.

He chuckled again, "Now? I'm not sure it would be wise to introduce yourself to the boss when she just got admitted to St. Mungos." He gestured to the Rolling Thunder, "Especially if you've been drinking. She really won't like that."

"I've heard she's a hardass. That's good. The world needs people like her in charge." Brock grinned and took another drink, adjusting slightly to the alcohol. "But, she needs people like me to take the stress off her, and look at me." He waved his hand down his toned body. "I'm a certified stress-reliever. They dump it on me, and it just slides off all quiet-like, no longer a problem." He grinned. "Take that attacker, I've already got her named. I know when I'll make my move, you just need to be there to make the arrest. Alright?"

He leaned backward slightly more than he was already. "I probably won't make any arrests for a while. You know, it's bad for the image. Don't want people thinking I word to hard." He grinned. "Give off the aura of a slacker, and you get almost instant underestimating. It's another reason things just slide off me. People don't plan around me, they figure I'm not a threat. It's easy, and it's beneficial." He nodded. "You following my drunken babble over there, Eli?"

"I'd be more than happy to, as long as she gets what she deserves," his features hardened, "Whoever this Archer woman is, I want her in Azkaban." He didn't really care what happened to her after that. She just needed to be somewhere where she couldn't touch Kallie.

Eli listened to the rest of his speech with amused fascination, "Yeah I'm following it. I have to say, I admire you for having the guts to live like that."

A low growl started in his chest, but he quenched it almost automatically. "Yes, I know the feeling." He said, raising an eyebrow at the other man. "Then again, maybe not. You seem awfully attached to Vol- to the Minister."

Brock laughed, shaking his head. "Guts, stupidity... people call it different things." He downed the last of the drink and sat back in his chair, the healthy buzz over his brain making him grin.

"Well I would expect so," Eli laughed, just realizing that Brock had only known him for a few minutes, "After all, she is my girlfriend." He chuckled again and frowned, realizing his glass was empty.

He shrugged, "Every auror needs to have some degree of stupidity. It's part of the job description."

Brock's grin lengthened, and he palmed a bottle of the strongest drink he had. "Oh really?" He asked, raising an eyebrow as he uncorked the bottle. "Never pegged you as the type to date the boss." He teased lightly, bringing the bottle to his lips and swinging his head back, gulping down the burning substance like it was water and he was a drowning man. He hadn't planned to actually get drunk - he'd wanted only a slight buzz - but he had a feeling that his travelling bar would need a work bar, and his work bar would need an auto refill. He waved a hand toward his alcohol. "Have another." he said dismissively, eyeing his own empty bottle. "I have to redecorate my office soon and-"

A knock on the door inturupted him, and his secretary - Stacy, he believed her name was - wandered in. The pencil skirt she was wearing barely reached her knees, and the shirt had such a low V Brock wondered why she was wearing it at all. Her auburn hair was up in a messy bun, and her high heeled shoes gave her walk that little something extra...

"H-how do I look, Veni?" She asked, an adorable red blush flitting over her face. Brock leaned forward, swinging his feet off his desk and eyeing her critically. He templed his fingers and gazed at her over them, obviously undressing her with his gaze.

"You, milady, are toeing the line between Seductress and Common Whore." He said simply, raising an eyebrow. "Change the shirt."

The woman meeped and nodded, turning tail and disappearing through his door again. Brock waited patiently for her to reenter, glancing to Eli to see what he thought.

Eli shook his head and put his empty glass down on the table. He never used alcohol to get drunk. It just wasn't the way he dealt with things, "Well, I didn't actually know that she was the minister until a few weeks after we started dating, and at the time I was only in training to be an auror... so the whole thing sort of happened on its own I guess."

Eli raised an eyebrow as the girl entered the office, then turned to Brock with an expression of both shock and amusement, "Well, that's certainly not a part of the job description." He allowed himself a small chuckle.

"Oh, that reminds me. We're supposed to go to a russian strip club at some point." He shook his head, realizing how ridiculous that sounded, "Sorry. There's a strip club in Russia that's supposedly owned by the mafia. Our last Head wanted us to go check that out at some point and see if we could get any intel. We never really got around to it."

"I've never said no to a strip club." Brock said, rising to his feet. "Let's go, posthaste." He paused as the secretary stumbled back in, her bun messier than before and her shirt changed to a sequined off the shoulder top, loose and hanging off one shoulder.

Brock stepped toward her, his gait predatory, and her blush deepened drastically as she looked up at him. Gently, he took the edge of the collar of her shirt and slid it, slowly, down to balance across her arms, the only thing keeping upward her appreciated bust size. The girl was nearly trembling now, but Brock took no notice, nodding at her. "This is how you will dress when you work for me." he said briskly. "Like a educated, well endowed woman, not a slut." He met her eyes, and the girl melted, nodding and stepping aside.

He cocked his head toward the doorway at Eli, grinning again. "Come on, Pat. We're going to have to do some... extensive research... on each and every stripper in the place. Just to be thorough." He winked at the girl, before leading the way out of his office.