Daddy's got a new forty five | Lincoln

Lincoln was preparing for a long day. The new girl was going to be under his wing now. As head of his department, he had plenty of say in who he dealt with and when, but when the Minister takes a private meeting with you to tell you that you were going to be personally responsible for a new intern, you didn’t get much say. Lincoln gave his reasons that it wasn’t a good idea, but it was insisted upon - the girl would work in his department. Perhaps it was luck that he was called to a complicated little fuck up just the evening before she was supposed to begin, but something told Lincoln he would have been better off getting a feel for her on her first day.

His second had come in early this morning to fill Lincoln in on the first impression. Lincoln sat quietly and listened to all the fuck ups, minor and not so much, and the general impression from his existing staff was that the girl was a walking disaster. Personable, yes, and she got along with just about everyone, but she was… accident prone, Lincoln recalled Jessica saying. Not exactly what you needed when you worked in a department that literally fixed magical fuck ups.

Rubbing his forehead with his thumb as if warding away the impending headache, Lincoln sat at his desk going over reports of what he’d missed when he was gone when there was a small knock at the door.

”Come in,” came the gravelly response; not looking up as she stepped inside. His eyebrow raised at the sound and he slowly looked up. Maybe “stepped” wasn’t the correct adjective.

Pushing himself up from his chair, Lincoln’s dark eyes pierced through the mess and the girl on the ground before he turned and stepped around the old oak desk; moving to crouch down in front of her. He studied her silently as he reached and picked up the cup and then the tray; pushing himself back up to his feet and looking down at her on his carpet. She looked so small, dressed up and covered in his tea; kneeling in front of him with those big eyes staring up.

”I would recommend you wear shoes you can function in, lass.”

Turning before she could say anything else, Lincoln strode back to his desk in two powerful steps and set the tray and cup on his desk.

”This job will require you to move, and you are required to do so without great risk to yourself and others.”

He shifted to face her, leaning back on his desk and crossing his arms and legs at the ankles. His eyes bore into hers and he waited. Although his accent was clearly Scottish, he spoke with a polished vocabulary of someone who had worked with plenty of big names. Still, Lincoln didn’t appear… upset over his spilled tea. He seemed more to study how she handled it.

If there was one constant with Lincoln, it was that he remained very cool-headed. Those that had been in the ministry when Lincoln first interned here many decades ago would probably be able to count on one hand the times they had heard Lincoln raise his voice or succumb to emotion, and all of those times were related to the uprising and then return of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. He was much older, and much more calloused now. Nothing that Dianthus said or did would be able to provoke any such response from Lincoln. And if she were to ever get under his skin, Lincoln was far too experienced to let her know that.

Dark eyes studied the way she moved. How she lifted herself up with ease; using her abdominals and her legs instead of pushing herself up with her arms and her back. She moved fluidly, and considered the options quickly before acting. There were remnants of something he could work with there, but her attitude remained a stain on his opinion.

There wasn’t a lot of sass in Lincoln’s department.

”It’s a shame that your Headmistress dismissed such a common occurrence from your education. I would suggest familiarizing yourself with flooring of all types, lass. You will be running across all of them.”

Turning, he moved around his desk and sat down again; looking over the paperwork remaining on it’s surface. Witches and Wizards were getting sloppy. Exposing themselves and other creatures to the muggle populations around the world. Creating havoc without the slightest thought of what total world-awareness could mean. And those purists that turned their noses up at having to hide their abilities… Lincoln exhaled a deep breath and then rolled his gaze back up to her just as the air in his office was getting stifling hot from the tension.

”I take my tea with two sugars. And to better get used to the tacky flooring, you will be delivering tea to everyone in the office until the carpet no longer surprises you.”

Lincoln’s eyes trailed over her as she stood there and struggled with her urge to use sarcasm to cope. And he listened as she failed. Her tone may not have been overtly so, but he could hear it in her choice of words. See it in the flash of her eyes. Lincoln sat still as a statue as he looked at her from across the room; the only movement the lift and fall of his chest as he breathed. Then, with a deep exhale coming from deep within his gut, Lincoln’s jaw tightened; the muscles in his teeth clenching as his eyes dropped down to the pages in front of him.

”You are always welcome to quit, Lass, if the services required of you are too difficult to perform.”

With that Lincoln turned his attention away. It was as close of a dismissal as she was going to get.

The message was clear.

Lincoln had said what he needed to say, heard what he needed to hear, and not it was up to Dianthus to either do as he said, or leave the ministry of her own accord. But not before she delivered tea to the whole office.