Before she knew it, Mia was hunched over her desk scribbling furiously as she re-worked her equations to discern why her slave wasn't working. Internally she was cursing quills and inkwells as the ink smeared when her hand wrote so quickly that part of it brushed a figure that was still wet and spoiled the whole equation. She mourned the skill she'd lost with a quill when she'd switched to muggle pens and pencils.