[Owlery] Progress Report?

[layla]

My Dear Layla,
I haven't heard from you in months, how's school? Make any new friends? I hope to hear from you soon.

Love Dad.

"My father... the king of subtlety." She rolled her eyes as she incinerated the letter. "Well I suppose this means I've got to send in some nonesense about what I've been doing since I got here... trying to keep from killing my partner? Don't think that will suffice... But this does mean he got a letter too," a thoguhtful expression dawned on her features. "Time to get our stories straight," she tilted her head as the last cinders of the note blew out the owlery window.

[crash]

Adair,

I have not heard many disruptions of the student body against the Ministry, and suspect you are fulfilling your duties. I, myself, am currently in Egypt trying to subdue rogue wizards who are threatening to dry up the Nile in rebellion toward the Ministry.

It really is quite unfortunate.

However, we are successful in arresting most of them, and I hope you are having similar luck.

- Pa.

P.S Attached are the details of Deek Henshaw. He escaped from the Ministry not too long ago and is rumored to be at Hogwarts. Keep an eye on him, son.

Adair placed the letter back in the plain, white envelope while keeping out the sheets detailed with Henshaw's history. His expression was, as usual, terribly apathetic, as he sent his owl back to its favourite resting spot near the ceiling.

It was obvious his father wanted a progress report, and he frowned slightly as he realised he'd have to find Layla.

His shiny shoes-- he'd been polishing them more often than usual, having realised it positively irked LeMoine when they reflected quite possibly every beam of light -- tapped against the floor as he walked toward the exit, before pausing at the feminine voice coming from near one of the large windows.

"You don't have to restrain yourself, LeMoine," he said with the faintest of smirks. "I doubt you'd be successful in any attempt to harm me. And, it would ruin your reputation as a Beauxbaton Queen. We don't want that, now, do we?"

[layla]

"Ack!" she squealed as something on the opposite side of the tower shined the last rays of the setting sun straight into her eyes, temporarily blinding her to who it was, but sadly the hideous shoes didn't have the ability to deafen her as well.

"Telbor," she practically spat the name as she felt her way along the wall to a cooler, darker part of the owlery. As soon as she'd blinked the sun-spots away from her eyes she glowered at him, "Really, must I spell it out so plainly for you how one becomes a Beaxbaton Queen? Heavens, you're muet," she rolled her eyes dramatically. "I'm on more rich french girls invitation and hit-lists than you will ever have the capacity to count."

She heaved a sigh 'Get back on track, Layla.' she chided herself. She took a deep breath, "Look, neither of us have done too much of anything other than background checks on our Professors, hm? So, we need to find someway to make 'Lazed around and bird-watched' sound like something admirable. Any ideas, Mr. would-rather-shine-his-shoes-than-complete-his-mission?" she asked snarkily. Dieux knows she hated those shoes... 'Focus, Layla, focus!'

[crash]

Adair narrowed his eyes, following her as she obviously tried to move away from him. "Perhaps you were bird watching, but I've made great progress--"

He reached into his book-bag and pulled out a thin folder filled with parchment and newspaper clippings. Opening it, he dropped himself on a bench near the wall and took out a quill.

Of course, he actually hadn't made much progress, and most of the cluttered sheets were, in fact, background checks. A list of names fluttered to the ground, and Adair picked it up with a frown.

Only one red check mark lined the parchment, and Adair hastily stuffed in his bag. "Right, so first off..." He pulled out a quill, though immediately got distracted once more.

"Don't you like them?" He said with a barely suppressed smirk, gesturing to his shoes. "I just shined them before coming to find you." He angled them so they caught the a perfect glare of the lanterns. "Such a lowly, well-mannered boy like myself only ever aims to please the high-and-mighty Layla LeMoine. Perhaps she'll even put in a good word for me with countless French girls who have skulls as thick as their use of hairspray."

Maybe it wasn't so difficult to see why not much progress had been made throughout the term.

[layla]

"Psh! I bet the only progress you've made is talking some daft little first year into doing all your background checks for you so that you have more time to shine your infernal--Augh!" she cringed and covered her eyes.
'Note to self: Buy some heavy duty... better yet, mirrored sunglasses. Hah, that'll teach him...' she smirked behind her hand.

"I bet you did..." she muttered angrily. "Scourgify," she said, aiming her wand at the ridiculously high-polished shoes. In mere moments the layers of varnish were rolling off, revealing a rather plain set of loafers. "Ew... now I see why you're so obsessed with polishing them; it keeps people from actually looking at the eye sores. Oh, now I'm not sure which is worse: being blinded by the polish, or the shoes themselves." She tilted her head, "Oh well, out of the frying pan into the donation box."

"As far as the french girls go... you're not so far off. There actually tends to be more hairspray than brains though," she shrugged, then shot him a look, "Don't even start down that road, Telbor. We both already know all the lame puns that can be used." She took a deep breath, "Okay, now what were we supposed to be working on again?" She saw the sheets of paper in Adairs hand and nodded, "Oh, right. You were just fibbing about all the work you didn't do for the Ministry. Please continue."