It was a couple of weeks later when she knocked on his open office door. She walked in with a stack of papers under her arm. She shut the door with a swish of her wand and put the tool in a leather holster she wore across her chest. It resembled his, but instead of cinching in the middle of her chest, looping under both shoulders, hers only required her right arm to loop through and buckled under her left arm. Her unruly, brown hair was in a braid, strands were escaping the plait and he could tell she was flustered. She sat down in one of the cushy chairs in front of his desk and heaved a sigh.