She'd been so focused on the chicken that she started slightly at the voice that came, though it did add weight to her suspicion.
Sarah glanced up, watching as Mr. Mulciber looked over the lift. She wondered if he noticed anything odd about it; it looked rather ordinary to her.
"Do you think so, sir?" She wondered, less questioning him - he'd already said, after all, she'd heard him plainly - than bemused as to why. A prank? An accident? Something stranger or more sinister? Mr. Mulciber hadn't looked as though he'd expected to see the chicken roaming the Atrium, but his quite a pity did not sound especially surprised. She supposed nothing would surprise the men and women who worked in the Department of Mysteries; no mystery would seem like much, next to whatever it was they laboured over. (She supposed. She spent rather a lot of time trying to imagine what that secret department did while the Unspeakables passed her by day after day, and she'd never managed much of a conclusion, only that they were likely things she had no hope of understanding.)
She turned her attention back to the chicken, just to be doubly sure. "Mr. Pickering, is that you?" Sarah declared loudly, biting her lip to make sure that she didn't laugh while she awaited a sign from the lift operator that he was him. (Had he been transfigured? Hopefully whatever had happened to him hadn't affected his human brain.)
Sarah glanced up, watching as Mr. Mulciber looked over the lift. She wondered if he noticed anything odd about it; it looked rather ordinary to her.
"Do you think so, sir?" She wondered, less questioning him - he'd already said, after all, she'd heard him plainly - than bemused as to why. A prank? An accident? Something stranger or more sinister? Mr. Mulciber hadn't looked as though he'd expected to see the chicken roaming the Atrium, but his quite a pity did not sound especially surprised. She supposed nothing would surprise the men and women who worked in the Department of Mysteries; no mystery would seem like much, next to whatever it was they laboured over. (She supposed. She spent rather a lot of time trying to imagine what that secret department did while the Unspeakables passed her by day after day, and she'd never managed much of a conclusion, only that they were likely things she had no hope of understanding.)
She turned her attention back to the chicken, just to be doubly sure. "Mr. Pickering, is that you?" Sarah declared loudly, biting her lip to make sure that she didn't laugh while she awaited a sign from the lift operator that he was him. (Had he been transfigured? Hopefully whatever had happened to him hadn't affected his human brain.)
