My thoughts were swept away when my steps took me to Skeeter’s office. Out of all the offices, hers was the only one nestled away from others and had glass walls. Her back was turned to me, which was going to make this surprise visit all the more tasteful. Skeeter’s outfit was clearly made to be noticeable; bright green with a forest green fur cuffs and collar.  She was head deep into her typewriter, occasionally taking a sip of her drink or looking at notes she had written down with her cursed quill. Her office was a mess I sort of expected of all journalists. File cabinets filled to the brim with notes and papers, threatening to spill out. A dedicated wall with other papers and documents, as if to link certain aspects of news between each other. It did not miss my notice how many of those red lines pointed towards a paragraph or picture of me. 