Post by renard walt goyle on May 7, 2018 21:29:47 GMT -7
The Ministry’s cafeteria was the most abysmal fucking place in the entire universe. And that was before the food was accounted for. To say that it left something to be desired was an understatement. There was a reason that his lunch breaks were usually extensive and lead him far away from the intellectually stunted rabble of the cafeteria goers that currently sat all around him at their tiny tables making idle chit-chat that had nothing to do about anything, all looking like they didn’t have a care in the world. Idiots. He was never forgetting his damn umbrella again, The torrential downpour that had managed to sneak its way into the forecast this afternoon had the potential to be a flower watering spell gone awry by the looks of it, with the added juice of claps of thunder every couple of minutes. Renard knew there were other options in Diagon Alley that he could easily apparate to, but from the amount of workers heading to the zones to do so, he was sure it would be worse in the restaurants than it would be in the cafeteria. What lay before him now, though, was quite the contrary. He was probably going to catch idiot germs for eating the same soggy sandwiches as everyone else. That was wonderful.
To avoid having to interact with his ‘colleagues’, if that was what these ones could be called, Renard had a recent report of a young centaur that had wandered too closely to muggle properties. For supposedly being of higher intelligence, they were relatively dimwitted at times. He would never say that in front of a pack of them though. That was rule number one with the centaurs. They were faster and stronger than a wizard on their own, and with a group of them it was almost impossible to make it out unscathed. He detested having to bend over backwards for them, but at least they weren’t remotely close to being as vile as werewolves were. Those things could up and die for all he cared. They were untamable, unlike the centaurs and vampires. At least not yet. Taking a rather disappointing bite out of his sandwich, Renard slapped it back down onto the plate. The fact that it even made a slapping noise said a lot about it. He was better off not eating at all and spending the rest of his break reading over the report before heading out to deal with the border charms that the centaur could have screwed up. If he looked like he was doing work, no one would bother him.