Killian was glad the carnie quarantine wasn't his particular problem but that didnt mean he wasn't affected.  They were unarguably taxing the system and all departments were feeling it.  Qualified healers had been shuffled around to cover the extra demand in Magical Bugs and with the Fog looming over their heads everyone was bracing for the worst.  As it was Killian was working far later than he had in a long time, going over last minute reports requests and grappling with a staffing shortage and with his secretary long gone fore the day he was left to run his own errands through the largely empty building.

Planning to take a shortcut through the waiting room he stopped almost mid-stride as he caught sight of a girl in a state of undress extricating herself from a man's lap.  He cleared his throat loudly almost out of habit, as if to make them aware of their own shame before glancing around the empty room incredulously.  Sure there was a staffing shortage but it wasn't so bad that miscreants should be able to set up shop and openly flout propriety.

"Are you being seen to?"  he asked making no effort to step closer or to quell the furrow in his brow.

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   February Umbridge

Edric, still in a state of shock from the indecent position they'd accidentally found themselves in, didn't respond to her comments—at least not at the moment. His eyes moved from the bright pink flush of her cheeks to her bare legs the moment she began struggling to free herself from her position, his own cheeks burning at the sight.

If things couldn't get any worse, the sound of a voice came right at the worst moment possible—a gentleman's voice, and an unfamiliar one at that. Edric struggled to remember if any of his childhood friends had even gone into healing (Podmore had, but this was the wrong hospital, he quickly figured out).

"We- I—" he stammered, trying to correct himself as he continued, "I haven't been seen to yet, no. I think I got hit by a curse down in Bartonburg. There's a- well, there's a situation down there."

Guilt was written across his features, though he knew there was little he should really feel guilty about. He'd not gone to Miss Lynch's doorsteps for immoral reasons, not had he willingly come here while she was dressed like this. He was injured and needed assistance—but it was only now, when he was facing judgment from a stranger, that he was willing to admit it. (He didn't think Miss Lynch would be getting the last laugh after this, though.)

"Miss Lynch was at the scene," he added, hoping it would add some context to their... position. "She brought me here." He cast her a glance that firmly said I hope you can explain yourself.

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This was not how she was supposed to go. Febby did not want to die of embarrassment or at the hands of her mother's likely rage.

Febs acknowledged the awkwardness of the situation and then took a deep breath, attempting to adopt her most nonchalant expression, despite the color in her cheeks. Mr. Umbridge was not doing a very good job of explaining what was happening, but then again, was there really a good way to explain this? "You know what that's exactly what happened. He collapsed on my front steps," No need to get too into detail about coffee and scones or punches thrown. "After being hit with some unknown spell  and he refused to come himself, so I kidnapped him and brought him in. He's an absolute baby who needs to be seen to."

Fuck it. Just fuck it.

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   Edric Umbridge

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Killian wondered briefly if the man was a Quidditch player.  It was unsurprising for that sort to be caught in disreputable company and activities.  On second thought the man looked nearly too old for the sport infact it was quite likely he was older than Killian himself.  He shook his head and watch the girl compose herself in his peripheral vision, having the good grace to avert his eyes lest she was even more undressed than first thought.  

Then came a composed if not a little flushed explanation.  It was not exactly helpful to their case but he respected the directness of her answer.  Well respect was a strong word.  If nothing else it put her in a better light than her counterpart who was looking increasingly childish and he gave her the briefest, most cursory of nods.    

"Can you ambulate?" he asked the man, drawing his wand.  "Can I trust that the situation in Bartonburg is resolved?"  he wanted to add a snarky 'Have you made use of the Authority's waiting room as well?' but he was better than that.  Or too tired.

He decided he'd send word to Law Enforcement regardless of their answer.

  

Edric cast a scowl in Miss Lynch's direction. He was by no means a baby; Merlin curse him if he didn't want to be left there while she could potentially escape any responsibility for this mess. He had no desire to be here, nor was he physically or mentally prepared to answer a shitload of questions he probably could have answered in the presence of a much more discreet mediwizard. He was never speaking to this insufferable woman again. Ever.

His cheeks flushed brighter, but they were accompanied by a flaring of his nostrils and a furrowing of his brows, making it clear that he was angry rather than embarrassed.

"I had no desire to come here anyways, as she very clearly informed you," he huffed with a glare in Miss Lynch's direction. "It was resolved at the time she brought me here—and of course I can walk," he added stubbornly, trying to bring himself to his feet despite knowing he shouldn't.

He managed to reach his feet, though didn't make any attempt to step forward. His death glare reappeared as he looked towards Miss Lynch, the only thing stopping him from going on a part-embarrassed, part-angry tirade being the social consequences that could come from speaking to a young lady that way (not that she'd paid him the same respect). He took a tentative step forward, though it didn't last for long—he stumbled to the floor, but fortunately managed to end up on his knees. Tonight was a fucking nightmare.

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There were several snarky comments threatening to burst from her lips but Febs just managed to keep them to herself. First of all who said ambulate over walk?  Second of all, CLEARLY he couldn't walk, otherwise they wouldn't be sitting on the floor of the goddamn waiting room to begin with! Honestly, men.

Febs couldn't speak about the commotion on her street, but Mr. Umbridge had said it was taken care of, that she had to trust, but as he tried to stand, Febs scrambled to her feet quickly and waited for the inevitable. He could spout nonsense about being able to walk all he wanted but that was the exact reason she'd brought him in.

And there it was. Febs rolled her eyes, mumbled an oath under her breath, but moved forward anyway, looking at the healer as she said, "And now you know why we were on the floor." She laid a hand on his shoulder as she knelt next to Mr. Umbridge again, clearly concerned, but with just a hit of I told you so in her expression.

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Killian sighed and summoned a wheel chair, moving to help the man into it and then to find an empty exam area.  Which was not hard given that some how the floor was empty at the moment.  With a flick of his wand and a muttered spell he lifted him from the chair to a bed, not risking another fall.  Fools they may be, he was still a patient.

"Wait here, I will send someone in.  No doubt they'll need you for paperwork.  If he worsens in any way, send up sparks.  Do you have your wand?"  he was all business mode now and addressed the girl almost exclusively.  Propriety or not, a collapse meant they could be dealing with anything and she seemed the most likely to understand.  He hardly waited for her answer before he pushed through the curtains that cordoned off his bed in pursuit of literally any of his damned staff.

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   February Umbridge

Despite the fury in her words, Miss Lynch seemed more than willing to drop back down to her knees to make sure he was alright; unfortunately, her sudden concern only managed to give Edric a sense of whiplash, all while he was still in the stubborn mindset that they'd never speak again. Insufferable woman.

Right.

More frustrating was the assistance he was forced to endure, and then the man's adamance that he was going to speak to Miss Lynch rather than himself. Ha! She wasn't his wife—just some girl.

Right.

The healer, also to Edric's dismay, left without giving Edric time to protest the manner in which he was handling the situation, leaving him with a still nightgown-clad Miss Lynch who he was resolved to never speak to again.

... Right.

He cracked almost immediately, shooting Miss Lynch a very nasty, resentful scowl. "Proud of yourself, aren't you? You must take pleasure in single-handedly diminishing my reputation as an auror."

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— set by MJ! —

Despite the fact that she was feeling very smug about this whole thing right about now, Febs was more relieved that he was finally getting the help he needed, even if he didn't think he needed it, nor was it in a very... well, diplomatic manner. He'd been unceremoniously hoisted and wheeled down the hall to be put into a hospital bed. Finally.

Feb thought she may have been dismissed now, considering she was not actually a proper point person for Mr. Umbridge, but the healer who'd found them in the waiting room didn't seem to be staying and she didn't trust Edric to tell the whole story. She was neither family nor his wife, but apparently she would be answering questions if needed. With a tired sigh, Febs pulled a comfortable armchair into full view of the door and curled up in it, arranging her housecoat as best she could to make sure there were no more bare legs visible.

There it was- he hadn't waited long to start in on her again. Now that they were alone again and she was sitting somewhere comfortable, Febby could feel the fatigue settling into her bones. "Mhm, very pleased." She chuckled, trying not to gloat too much. Hopefully the next healer would be quicker so she could go home soon and await her trial by fire from her mother.

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He was furious. He was completely flabbergasted by her utter lack of respect—lack of care—for their reputations. He was truly enraged, but he was the Least Intimidating in his current physical state and could do no more than shift his body in the seat so he could look at her. If she weren't a woman, he'd—

He took a breath. Such violent, angry thoughts were ones he'd claimed to have learned to control long ago, and it was appalling that a self-important young woman could irk him to the point of becoming a hothead once more!

He didn't care that much, did he? Obviously not; when a man cared about a woman, he got all sappy, not pissed beyond comprehension. The only explanation was that he wanted to prove his own dominance—his own manliness—which was something she seemed to brush off without another word.

"Well when I'm grudgingly filing paperwork for my father for the rest of my existence, I'll remember that you were so very pleased with yourself—alright?" It wasn't funny anymore; her attitude was just irritating. He avoided her gaze as he stared down at his still-bloody palms, once against feeling for his wand which fortunately was more accessible while sitting up.

He cleared his hands of the cuts and bruises without another word. He didn't have much time to cool off, though; a sudden pain struck his abdomen, causing him to recoil into a curled-up position in his seat.

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Well, he had her there. Though February was willing to play fast and loose with her reputation, she supposed she hadn't thought of his in the long run.  Certainly nothing would rebound back on him that badly? It wasn't like the situation was reversed, like he'd kidnapped her and brought her to the hospital against her will to be seen for an injury.

He'd made his point and Febby unwound herself from her perch on the armchair, thinking maybe she'd done enough for tonight. The last thing she wanted was for him to lose his job over this. Not the injury, but the having-an-unrelated-female-in-your-hospital-room-thing. She watched for a moment as he cleaned up his own hands and she tried to think of what she could say without pissing him off any further.

"Alright, alright," She started, about to say she would leave him to the healers then, but he doubled over and she forgot whatever it was she'd started to say. Unsure of what to do now, as she was not a trained healer, just a professional pain in the ass, Febby hesitantly perched herself on the edge of his hospital bed and waited to see if it would pass or if she'd need to summon a healer, quick. What in the name of Merlin's beard had he been hit with?

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The pain—along with the anger, luckily for her—passed after a moment or two, but not without leaving a strained expression glued to his face. He didn't realize his hand had snapped to grasp hers in the throes of the throbbing, and though he glanced down at it, he made no immediate point to move it away.

"It's okay, it's okay," he murmured, his voice strained. He wasn't sure if it was her or himself he was trying to reassure; any attempts of trying to hide his pain had faded as his worry had escalated.

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— set by MJ! —

Worry flooded her system as she felt his hand on hers. Any thoughts she had about leaving were pushed away at the sight of him doubled over in pain. She preferred to be the one causing the proverbial pain, not watching somebody she may or may not be starting to care for be in actual pain. It was a startling realization just how much this bothered her.

Trying to find some sense of calm, Febs gave their joined hands a little squeeze and reached out with her free hand to brush the hair from his face. "Just breathe, is it passing?" Though he'd said it was okay, she hardly believed him. "Do you want me to go find someone?" She asked this time only because they didn't need another scene like the one in the foyer and because she was genuinely more worried about leaving him alone at this point.

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Being babied was not really something he enjoyed, but he was too concerned about everything—the spell that had hit him, the long-term effects, not letting her see the extent of his pain (which he was sucking at right now)—to figuratively push her away. Her presence was just as soothing as it could be frustrating, he noted, but was confused by the mixture of emotions to acknowledge the truth of the observation.

"No, no. I just need to breathe," he reassured, reaching up to brush his fingers against her forearm as she brushed the hair out of his face. His gaze was getting blurry, but that, he figured, was likely from the beads of sweat that had never stopped forming above his brow. "I'm sure it'll pass. It won't kill me."

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— set by MJ! —

The knot of worry in the pit of her stomach tightened as she watched him intently. Now this was getting serious and she was glad she'd kidnapped him to come here. Gloating about being right was far from her mind now and she felt helpless to do anything for him. This was beyond witty banter, fighting and snarky comments, he was actually seriously injured.

"Edric, please let me go get someone." Genuine concern laced her voice and expression now, no hint of sarcasm or teasing. Febs wasn't entirely sure that she'd earned the use of his first name, but at this very moment, urgency was more pressing than propriety. Gently, she turned his face to look at her, blue eyes on his grey ones, pleading for him to see reason. "Please."

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Shit, he felt feelings. Feelings were bad—very, very bad—but there was little he could do to combat them at the moment. He was injured, she was perched on the side of his bed, and now there was little he could do to avoid her gaze. As such, he simply froze up, wide eyes staring up at her until he realize she'd called him Edric.

"Just stay here," he urged, though maybe here—right beside him, her body practically brushing up against his while she was still scantily-clad compared to her usual attire—was not the best. Getting someone was the best option, but he had no desire to display his vulnerability to yet another person at the moment.

"Tell me," he said hastily, trying to change the subject. "Should I expect a continued use of my first name, or will you go back to Mr. Umbridge once I've pissed you off again?" It was a poor attempt at teasing, but it was a legitimate question. He knew calling her February—a mouthful of a name—was still out of the question.

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— set by MJ! —