Aron Cayhill was having a shit week. No, not just a shit week, a shit month with random intervals of "okay" thrown in. Really, it had been a shit time in general for about the last fucking year. Ever since his parents' death things had been kind of touch and go, what with him almost dying and Ross Ferdinand managing to apparate across the ocean to get him to St. Mungo's. The bastard. Ever since he had perpetually been trying to solve the Ross Ferdinand Problem - which was to say, he was trying to grapple with the fact his best mate had moved to the States, managed to become a complete stranger to him, nearly killed himself to save Aron's sorry hide, and now there was this strange sort of tension whenever they were together. This inability to express how either of them was really feeling because they were so afraid of -Knock knock knock
There was a sharp intake of breath that Aron refused to call surprise as someone rapped on the door of his office. Clearing his throat, he tried to gather himself and place in mind squarely in the moment rather than the mystery of his personal life. He was not going to solve that from his office, was he? "Come in."
A rather shy looking intern peaked into his office. He'd never met this one before and decided not to intimidate the poor bastard too much on their first day of meeting. The boy seemed to already be scared out of his wits. Someone must have warned him about Aron in advance, a thought that almost made him laugh. After a moment of looking like he was about to piss himself, the kid managed to quietly tell him that he was needed for an immediate interrogation. A young witch had been caught carrying a stash of basilisk fangs on her person and the aurors were fearing her to be a dark witch of some kind.
Instinctively Aron's hands balled into fists and he slowly rose to his feet. A dark witch? One that had managed to sneak past him for nearly a year? He highly doubted that. Even so, the urgency in the boy's eyes made up for his quiet tone and there was not a doubt in Aron's mind that this was important to someone potentially higher up than he. "Where is she?""Interrogation room B.""Will they let me talk to her up here?""I highly doubt it, sir."
With a sigh and a solemn nod, Aron rubbed the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. He hated those interrogation rooms. They were too sterile, too dark and dungeon-like. Interrogations in his office were easier, put suspects into a false sense of security and made things feel a little less tense. No one was on edge, no one felt the pressure of those eyes that they knew to be watching the whole thing, and, most importantly, the office was fucking private and he could do as he pleased to get answers. Public interrogations rooms didn't leave much room for that. If they were forcing him to see the suspect in a public room, it was incredibly likely that not only was she dangerous, but someone wanted to judge his performance. "Give me five minutes."
With a tired wave of his hand, he excused the boy to pass along his message and began to gather what he needed. There was apparently no paperwork, otherwise they would have sent the intern with it. He hated being unprepared, hated the disorganization with which his underlings tended to operate. No matter how often he stressed the importance of filling out files for him to go over before an interrogation, they rarely listened.
As promised, he was a few floors down at the interrogation rooms within five minutes. He could hear raised voices as he came down the corridor, which quieted as soon as he rounded the corner to the little room outside the actual interrogation room. "What are we dealing with, gentlemen?"
No pleasantries, just straight and to the point. It was easier that way.
In hushed voices the guards told him exactly what the intern had. No name, no details. Just a witch that had been caught with an illegal stash of basilisk fangs. Wonderful. This would be easy.
Brushing past the guards, he pushed the door open and slid into the room, eyeing up the girl seated behind the little table. She looked scared, confused, a little angry. And she was young, younger than he had expected. Probably no older than seventeen, maybe eighteen, which meant she was fresh out of Hogwarts. He didn't say a word, not at first, just let the tension build as he eyed her and crossed the room. She muttered something as he took out his wand, but he didn't quite hear it and didn't acknowledge it. Not at first. Just let the squealing of the chair against tile floor fill the room, watched the way it made her tense as he sat down and met her eyes.
And then he smiled.
An easy, warm expression that he knew made his eyes light up almost amicably. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that Ms... Well, I don't believe they gave me your name. No use starting our chat without getting to know each other. I'm Aron Cayhill."
And he chuckled, just to sell that good cop smile. The last thing he needed was to frighten the poor young witch they had brought to him. No need to go intimidating her...yet.