The infallible Mr. Gladstone, her mind echoed, nearly letting a giggle slip out at the thought. While his accomplishments were definitely impressive, Bella would've much preferred to hear that even the greatest are, at times, victim to the mistakes of others — and even themselves, in less dire cases. But no matter how kind and charming Mr. Gladstone may have seemed, she knew he was a man, and men didn't like to admit their faults. Maybe he had a bunch of long-forgotten mistakes from his youth (or maybe it was just wishful thinking, but she was susceptible to that).

Mr. Gladstone didn't seem very responsive to her teasing, probably because he took his work seriously, even when someone's life wasn't on the line (at least she hoped he hadn't recognized the potion as a life-endangering one!). It was sad in a way, because it wasn't like she really spoke to him outside of work. He wasn't unkind though, so none of her anxiety alarms were set off, and she plucked her wand from his grasp with a smile on her face.

"I suppose we should. Mr. Jameshill would have my head if he found a speck of potion still anywhere, really," she agreed, her eyes following the potion splatters. "Don't let me keep you, though; I can clean this up myself. I'm a big girl," she added, beginning to separate the potion-splattered cauldrons from the clean ones.