Reporting: Bad News.

[Tristise Rederick]

"You're going to take this job at the Ministry. You don't have a choice, Tristise."

Tris glared up at her uncle and put her hands on her hips, taking a threatening stance. "Why, because you say so? Since when has that ever meant I don't have a choice?"

"You will take this job and clean up your mess or we will take care of your mess and you." Her uncle sneered back at her and took up an equally intimidating pose though Tris didn't really feel threatened.

"Grandfather would never allow it."

"He won't know until it's over." Her uncle produced his wand and stretched his arm out, placing the tip under his niece's chin. "You're much too defiant, child. Take the job and we can forget this whole thing. You'll get your quote on quote freedom you keep talking about. You'll get paid and eventually be able to move out. We all win."

Tristise snarled, "I'll take the job, because I want the money and the chance to move out." Her uncle smiled cruelly, but Tris glared and snatched the wand from his grasp. She snapped it in half in the blink of an eye and tossed it back at him, "And don't you dare think you can ever threaten or intimidate me. I'm not a child and I'm not even human. Pathetic."

She turned and stalked out the door, slamming it behind her. Fabulous. Working for the Ministry who was telling her to work undercover at the Daily Prophet. The Daily-fucking Prophet. Honestly, who hated her so much they were making her work for him?!

She should have let her uncle kill her. Death had to be better... Hell had to be better than this.

The blonde girl glanced up at the sign on the building's facade. The Daily Prophet. She groaned and shook her head before marching forward, pushing open the front door, and making her way to the front desk. It was busy and noisy inside, even in the entrance area. She could only imagine what the floors were like where work actually got done. The woman at the desk looked up after hanging up a retro rotary phone and took in Tristise's appearance. Tris had been specially dressed from head to toe by the Ministry staff who hired her. They had put her in a red button down shirt with the sleeves neatly rolled to elbow length and tucked into a black high-waisted pencil skirt that started just under her bust and continued to two or three inches above the knee. It was belted with a thin black studded belt, wrapped around her chest twice and then was paired with black pumps and a black silk tie. She felt silly being so formally dressed, but at least the outfit somehow retained her personality while looking professional.

Even her hair and makeup was done. Her hair was pulled to the side and put into a low, loose bun - Tris chose that style herself, but the assistant doing her hair made sure it was perfect (or, well, perfect messy). Her makeup was subdued, professional, but somehow it still made Tristise feel uncomfortable. Like she was being painted up for display. Not that that was abnormal. She was a Rederick and every time they had company the same thing happened. Typically she didn't mind though - she was secretly into being girly - but she never truly hated any of the guests coming to the Rederick house. She never knew them, never cared to, never cared period. Tristise felt uncomfortable though putting in so much effort to see Brogan Vassar, a man she could honestly say she hated. Pompous, arrogant, self-centered, paranoid...

Tris smiled a bit stiffly to the receptionist, "Hello, I'm Tristise Rederick. I'm here for an interview at two thirty."

The reception smiled back, with a lot more practiced ease than Tris and nodded, "Of course. Mister Vassar's office is on the fourth floor, when you get up there there will be a temp waiting to help you."

Tristise nodded and followed as the receptionist motioned to an elevator to the left. "Thank you." She proceeded to the lift and stepped inside as the doors slid open fluidly. Of course this whole interview was unnecessary. She already had the job. The Ministry had arranged an interview with the Board of Directors for the Daily Prophet a week ago and had easily convinced them Tristise was the best candidate; however, they had put up quite a fuss that Brogan Vassar himself would need to meet her and interview her before anything could be finalized. The lycaness had agreed to it eagerly before the Ministry could talk them out of it only with the hopes that Brogan would refuse to take her on as his secretary and she could escape this job. Of course her eagerness was taken as confidence she would win Brogan over, not confidence he would refuse.

The 'ding' sounded just before the doors slid open again, revealing a new floor. It was busy, but much quieter than expected. Tristise made her way over to a nearby desk and was directed to a solid looking door a few feet away, "That's Mister Vassar's office. He's expecting you." Tris doubted that. Well, she doubted he was expecting Tristise Rederick. Then again she didn't know how much info he was given before interviews. She knocked on the door and then with a shooing motion from the girl who had directed her she opened the door an stepped inside.

There was another desk and another door. Tristise sighed and walked over to the desk where a young brunette man sat looking bored. "I'm Tristise Rederick, I have a two thirty appointment with Mister Vassar."

"Ah, yeah. You're the one's who's here for the interview to take over this job, right? Ha, good luck. This job is immensely boring." Tris raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"I see, well, I'm sure it must be boring when you're only a temp. Management often fears giving temps any tasks of value in case they make mistakes which is so common amongst part-time help." Honestly, Tristise might not have liked Brogan much and she may not be excited about doing this job herself, but she was known to prefer professionalism in any job. If you have a job you do it right. End story.

The guy at the desk glared and motioned to the door, "He's waiting."

Tris gave him a cold smile and turned to the door behind her. She knocked again and entered, praying this was actually Brogan's office this time and not another room with another desk and another door. She was starting to feel like the Daily Prophet was one of those nested dolls. Stepping inside the office she noted it wasn't another receptionist and door scenario and unconsciously let out a breath. Smoothing her skirt down she turned to the desk and put on her coldest expression, preparing for the worst.

[brogan vassar]

Brogan was quite pleased to be getting a new assistant. The one he had at the moment was a pain to work with - much like the rest of his employees. However, with someone working so closely alongside you, their personality had a greater impact than the others. It was very important to Brogan to find somebody that he could tolerate. In fact, he'd hoped for somebody decent. Was it too much to ask?

It always was.

As he awaited the arrival of the new job candidate, he proceeded to fill out paperwork. His job mostly consisted of budgeting - being the owner it all came down to money. He wasn't much involved with the actual writing of the paper. That's what the editor, etc were employed for. Brogan mostly handled the business aspect, though he did scan each edition to ensure their reputation would not be shattered beyond repair.

His hands alternated between typing on his laptop, and scribbling on nearby papers. He was beginning to feel more comfortable with his position. The first day he could have swore that he was going to give up. It was too much to take. He seemed to have a sign on his door, reading 'come to me whenever you have the slightest problem.' Brogan was not a therapist, nor did he want to be. Everyone had issues, both relating to the job and not. It appeared like a daunting task, the job. But he'd managed, somehow, to become comfortable in his position.

He assisted his employees, while handling the business aspects - all the while still very in control of his other business. Needless to say, he was usually tired. His energy was continually drained, and he found it increasingly difficult to exude positivity. Brogan did make an effort to be kind and prepared for his interview, though. He took a breather, a coffee break. He wasn't going to appear so exhausted that the new potential assistant had no desire to work for him.

Brogan was surprised to find it was nearly two thirty. As if on cue to his thought - as he put away his things - the door clicked open. He stood up to properly introduce himself, to offer a handshake, and guide them kindly to their spot in front of his desk. He smoothed out his shirt - simple, white, accompanied by a black blazer. He wore a pair of dark-wash jeans, as dress pants were hardly his style.

He took her in. Blonde, beautiful, professional... Probably perfect?

"Hello, Broga-" his hand was out, ready to shake hers when he finally took in her features. Properly. "No way..." Brogan said exasperated, not believing what he was seeing. He shut the door behind her and he stared, incredulously. "Please tell me you're a twin?" He nearly begged, his voice on the verge of breaking. He, however, was smart enough to know the truth.

Despite him knowing that it was Tristise, he still gestured toward the seat in front of his desk. He sat behind his, eyeing her cautiously. "Somebody really has it out for me. This thing... Where we're constantly meeting? It's messed up. Please tell me you're just pranking me?" His hands rubbed his eyes, skimming through his unruly blonde hair.

"I need to watch what I say, or imagine..." Brogan groaned, referring to their prior conversation about her working for him. The reality was, she wasn't going to be bending over to pick up pens for him. She wasn't going to flip her hair, shaking it out sensually. She wasn't going to fetch him coffee, and oh-so-pleasently discuss his to-do list. Tristise was going to be hot - annoyingly so. Her beauty would taunt him constantly, frustrate him. She would drive him mad, as their personalities clashed furiously. They would fight and bicker and hate each other 'til the end.

Did he need the extra stress in his life? Certainly not. Could she be pleasant in a job? He wasn't ready to take a chance on that. However, the board had been very smitten with her. Could his personal opinion truly outweigh theirs? It was his business, after all. He owned it. Was she really as wonderful as they'd made her seem?

Questions and frustration swirled in his mind. Despite the tragic circumstances, he would conduct the interview regardless. She deserved a fair chance. "Why do you think that you would be a good fit for this job?" The question just barely slipped past his clenched teeth.

He began to assess the positives of having her in the job. There weren't many... But she would be working for him. That alone could bring him satisfaction. He could force her to do whatever he wanted. He could punish her for the stress she'd put upon him in the last month. She'd desperately needed a job, she said... Well, he could put her to use. He imagined using her for tasks outside of the job... Force her to massage him - things like that. Brogan envisioned happily manipulating her.

Well, it could work out.

[Tristise Rederick]

Well, he started off politely enough... until he realised it was her. She smirked when he all but begged her to tell him she was a twin. "Funny thing, actually. I am in fact a twin; however, my twin looks nothing like me. Fraternal." She chuckled coldly, briefly.

"I would love to tell you I'm just here as a prank, but I don't joke when it comes to work." There was something in the way he really seemed to hate the idea of her working for him. Something in the way he seemed so agitated. Her feelings of wanting to make him annoyed, wanting to make him refuse her... well they sort of melted away. Suddenly she was rather determined to make him want her to work for him despite his obvious hatred for her. She was too interested in challenges for her own good.

He sat and began the interview and she sat as well, perfect posture - back straight, one ankle tucked neatly behind the other, legs swept gently to the side and together. "You had said you were looking for help and I realize at the time you were sarcastic and I certainly wasn't interested because of our... brief history; however, the more I thought about it the more suited for the job I felt and then my family found out I was considering it and simply loved the idea. They thought it was perfectly fitting for me. I had to agree."

"I'm highly intelligent, top of my class at Hogwarts and not simply because of my magical skill, but because I'm capable of writing well, reading well, following instructions to a tee. I'm highly capable of learning and learning quickly. I handle stress and pressure well. I can conduct myself in a professional manner regardless of the situation if I need to. I take jobs very seriously and always maintain my best standard. If that isn't enough I also know your most difficult side and can handle it without fear or hesitation. Feel free to yell, scream, throw things at me and try to intimidate me. I'll manage." Tristise gave him a smile, but it was stiff and clinical... too perfect.

"Did I also mention I speak English and French fluently and have some experience with Italian, Spanish, Romanian, Japanese, German and Chinese? I also intend to learn a bit of Finnish soon. I have relatives there so even though I have no desire to talk to them I feel obligated and I think the language could be interesting. Thus I'd be a great asset to you in any business with foreign headquarters. Since I learn so quickly if there's any other language you'd like me to learn I'd be more than willing. Just tell me." She pulled out a stack of papers from her briefcase (the same one she'd used at their last meeting) and handed them over. "This is a more detailed CV of my abilities, I'm not sure if they provided you with a copy already. I feel it's best if you have it in type rather than me verbally communicating my skills so that we're not here all day."

She replaced her briefcase at her feet and folded her hands in her lap in a very ladylike manner. All those Rederick parties were good for one thing - Tristise could act like the perfect woman seemingly effortlessly. In reality her brain was crying in anguish at having to be so formal, especially with Brogan, but she needed the job or her well-being and her chance to move out were going to be in jeopardy. "Is there anything else you'd like to know, Mister Vassar?"

Professional. Be professional.

[brogan vassar]

"Interesting," Brogan said, attempting to be polite. She seemed to be doing her best to not give into her consistent urge to slander him. He could do that same for her. So he smiled back. Brief. It didn't meet his eyes. Surely the predicament they were in couldn't be so bad. Had Tristise been forced into the job somehow? Was she really so desperate for work that she'd take a daily dose of Brogan? He was dying to profess the questions that popped into his mind. He was baffled, to say the least.

"So you are serious. I... I won't write you off then," he said, trying to look as sincere as possible, "I'll take this seriously as well. I apologize for my initial shock." Brogan was stunned by her professionalism, the way she spoke to him as if they hadn't hated each other so intensely. He would give her the time of day, and he would appear interested in what she had to offer. Putting his feelings aside, he readied himself for her interview. Being respectful and giving her a chance was one thing - but to actually consider the realities of her working with him... Side by side, day to day. He couldn't decide if it made him smug or frantic.

Despite regaining his composure, it didn't take long for his jaw to hit the floor. The woman sitting before him was utter perfection; she was polite, beautiful, professional, well-educated. His head was spinning. Had she mentioned one of her hobbies was acting? His mouth had made a surprised 'o'. The way she promoted herself, respectfully so, had left him knowing that for him to not give her the position would make him a complete asshole.

However, this Tristise was reserved. Cold. The Tristise he'd become accustomed to (in such a short time) had been anything but. She was temperamental. Fiery. He took the papers from her, that were offered ever-so-pleasently. He skimmed them with his eyes, his gaze drifting between her and the papers. "They did not supply me with a copy. I was simply left with the understanding that you are... Exceptional," his last word was breathy. It was stressed, it mirrored his shock... It was then that he realized the board's impression of her (which he never would have associated with Tristise) was disturbingly accurate.

There wasn't much more he needed to know. He was already very aware of her professional excellence. It was all over her words, both verbal and in print. "I trust that you are organized and business orientated? As your job will mostly consist of assisting my daily tasks. Accompanied by scheduling, replying to emails, phone calls... Dealing with both the public and fellow employees." Talking like this with her was... To put it plainly, weird.

"Do you have any questions?" He smiled, hardly genuine... Though it wasn't malicious or bitter.

He looked around the room, leaning closer to her - his big blue eyes narrowed. "Tristise," he started, looking concerned, "you're okay with this? I need to be sure you know what you're getting into. Not to brush your newfound etiquette aside... But I think our opinions of each other have been made very clear in the past... Are you able to keep this up, regardless of how closely you work with me?" Air hissed through his teeth at his inhale. The whole idea left him shaky, though... He knew she'd won. She exuded too much perfection for him to deny her what she'd come for.

The board was smitten... And personal prior opinions aside, so was he.

[Tristise Rederick]

Inside, the young lycaness smirked. She knew the moment she started listing her qualifications that she had won and Brogan had been utterly and completely defeated. Outwardly she kept her professional expression and manners in tact no matter how much it was killing her. As Brogan had thought - this wasn't her. She had the ability to be cold and professional, she had that side, but the natural Tristise? She was fiery, feisty, outspoken, brash - among other things.

"I'm very business minded. Look at the family that raised me. Organized... well, it may not seemed organized to others, but for myself my system works perfectly fine. I've never once been late or unprepared for anything. Well, except of course purposefully, but I was young when I pulled stunts like that and since then I've learned to take things much more seriously. Scheduling, emails, phone calls - not a problem. Dealing with the public and other employees... well if I can be civil with you I think I'll be just fine with people I've never had any issues with."

She too was mildly amazed... no, amused, by his level of professionalism. He too seemed to be able to put aside his hatred for her and seriously consider her as an applicant. Well, until the end when he seemed genuinely concerned about future meetings. She wouldn't lie and say she wasn't worried as well. "Given our past experiences together I won't deny the chance of a disagreement between us now and again; however, I assure you I take my jobs very seriously and I will be as professional as I can be regardless of the situation and my feelings toward you. Even if we have an argument I will not let it hinder my work."

With a sly grin she leaned closer to him as well and whispered, "And I promise I'll do my best not to kill you... Boss." She knew she'd won from the beginning. She knew he knew she'd won. She chuckled, though it was a carefully masked mockery, letting it her comment pass as a joke.

"I have no questions so... I do hope you can give me an answer promptly." She stood and held out a hand to him, "It was... a pleasure... meeting you again, Mister Vassar."

[brogan vassar]

She had won, dammit. Brogan was powerless to the charm she'd instantly turned on, so effortlessly. If only, when he'd originally approached her she'd acted so kindly. It was cool, and distant - and maybe he didn't care for that... But at least this way she didn't outwardly put him down. Anger wasn't coursing through him at rapid speed, he didn't have the urge to throw her against a desk and beat her senseless. And maybe something else. Yes, he was ashamed... But those were the very feelings she awoke within him.

Brogan nodded at her speech, accompanied by a smirk at her polite stab at him. She was so well-fitted for the position that it was bordering on annoying. She'd won the board over, she'd won him over... There was no stopping her. He knew that he'd have to make her miserable in the job to give him the satisfaction he deserved. Maybe casually... He had to manipulate her somehow. He had to give her a taste of her own medicine while she smiled coldly in her calm little act of professionalism.

"Alright. Should you get this position, we will both make an effort to put personal opinion and past experience behind us." Even he was unsure of his statement... But at least he said it. As she rose from her seat he moved from behind the desk, standing beside her. Her whisper sent shivers down his spine. It was an act and he knew it. Her little whisper - where she assumed she got the job - was evidence of that.

"You're bad, Trissie," his voice was a low whisper, masculine, rough, with the added taunt of his wicked nickname. With his words he glared playfully. It was a casual way to let her know that he wasn't an idiot. He knew what game she was playing. He would play it right back at her. Brogan captured her extended hand, touching her perfect skin, while giving her a very weak handshake. It wasn't vigorous, instead it was gentle up and down where he pulled away slowly, and their fingertips grazed in a way that should have been anything but electrifying.

"Thank you for the... lovely... interview. I will notify you within the next couple of days regarding my choice," his smile was beautifully forced.