"Late, again," the handler spoke first in a harsh, decisive tone of voice although he was visibly nervous recalling the last time the witch had taken criticism oh so kindly. Alas, he had taken precaution this time and wore a protection talisman around his neck. It was but a mere piece of enchanted paper parchment but it warded off bad magic. In his eyes, though, all magic was bad.
"Call me conventional, but I stick to tradition," Mathian retorted and smiled a sour, wicked smile as he settled into his seat paying the wolf hardly any mind. He had decided to appear unbothered, to pretend as if nothing had happened between them. He intended to persevere in his intentions. After all, the memories would eventually fade away... the taste, the smell, the feeling, no matter how incredible, would inevitably disappear, for hell would freeze over twice before he'd jump into bed with a werewolf ever again. Slowly, he started to breathe, in and out, regularly, although his heartbeats would falter each time he thought of giving the wolf a nonchalant glance.
"I'd call you many words, but conventional - I don't think so," the handler scoffed lightly, visibly disgusted by Mathian's mere presence. It seemed to be enough to piss some people off, he thought. It ran in the family, he added. If the handler was throwing bait, Mathian was not going to bite into it. He just smirked and leaned against the table, tapping his fingers against it. The handler cleared his throat, adjusted his tightly-fitted tie and fetched his stack of papers, leafing through them to find the perfect mission for them. He searched for something... special.
"Seeing as how you both --" he gave them a stern look before stopping to inspect one of the papers he'd come across, etching a mysterious smile on his face, "seem highly unreceptive even to the most basic of tasks, I deem it highly fit to gift you a mission even an idiot would be able to complete, blind-folded and with his hands tied behind his back," an air of loftiness surrounded him as he spoke so derisively, earning a not-so-subtle eye roll from Mathian. "You two have until sundown tomorrow to rid the dungeons in the eastern corridor of a pesky ghost. Convince him to leave and head towards the light... and I won't report any kind of incompetence on your part to the Board. Should you fail... well, we all know what happens next. That would be all,"
"What a dick--" Mathian exclaimed, faking a gasp of surprise. "Oh, sorry, didn't mean to say it outloud," he added, his lips pulling into a smirk. The handler clicked his tongue and turned around to walk away while he still felt good about himself, leaving behind his documents.
"You're all cut from the same cloth..." he murmured under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "Highborn asses," he added and slammed the door behind him, leaving the two of them alone. The silence that followed and engulfed the room was frightening. He took in a deep, shaky breath and finally looked at Theo, directly into his eyes and said as nonchalantly as possible, for it was the bravest thing to do, and he needed to be brave,
"Y'know an exorcist? Pretty sure we're screwed," he stood up and leaned over the desk to grab the papers the handler had left behind. There were plenty of other feasible missions to choose from, yet the man had opted for one that was the least descriptive. No name, no origin, no suggested modus operandi. Just get rid of it. Whoever wrote it must have been either desperate or not involved enough. "I hate ghosts," he whispered, commenting more to himself than making conversation, "If you're gonna die, then stay dead." He threw the papers away, and turned back to Theo, almost making the mistake of letting his gaze linger across the wolf's lips and the memory of how he'd nibbled them and sucked them in... but his eyes quickly darted away towards the door. "Shall we?"