November 10th, 1891 — Hogsmeade
Fortitude Greengrass

It had been an uneventful day for Jack so far.  Days like that weren't completely uncommon but the longer a quiet period stretched on the more he began to wonder when it would break;  What commotion would crop up and give him a run for his money.  When a random person approached him on his patrol to report some kind of tussle happening up the street he moved to investigate but didn’t have much expectation for it being overly interesting.  As he got closer sounds of a heated exchange began to reach him and when he finally caught sight of what was surely the 'tussle' in question he realized how wrong he was.

A younger man, an older woman, and a ghost seemed to be having a loud and very public argument in the street.  So much so that it had attracted a small gaggle of on-lookers.  No one present seemed to be violent just yet but he approached fully ready to reach for his wand if needed.  Once close enough he sized up each in turn and decided to pose his question to the group collectively rather than one in particular.

"Is there a problem here?"

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Ford wasn't known to be the type of person who easily lost his temper. Patience was an absolute requirement for working in the Spirit Division, and on a typical day Ford had a nearly boundless supply of it. Even today he'd started out well enough. He'd been stressed and tense due to a variety of other factors in his life, the latest being what absurd novelties he was expected to pay for in the name of Verity's upcoming wedding, but he'd been trying not to let all of that impact his work. He'd done his paperwork that morning just as usual and arrived at the home of Mrs. Niall, who had filed a complaint about obnoxious and intrusive behavior on behalf of her new home's spiritual resident. This sort of thing was fairly common, and usually resolved with a good moderated chat involving all parties, but Mrs. Niall was having none of that. She'd been insisting vehemently from the moment he arrived that she didn't need to talk through her grievances, she only needed the ghost removed (which his division really didn't do except in the most dire of cases, and never on so meager evidence as the word of one widow). She'd threatened to go over his head to his supervisor rather than participate in a conversation. She'd threatened to go to the newspapers and tell them the ghost had threatened her virtue and propriety which... what? The first was literally impossible, and the second seemed far-fetched unless the spirit was spying on her while she bathed. While technically feasible, based on her appearance Ford rather doubted it. The ghost hadn't gotten a word in edgewise since his arrival, but Ford had seen him around town before and had never taken him for the type who would enjoy watching old women undress.

The last straw, however, had been when she declared if the Ministry was unwilling to help her, she'd take matters into her own hands and get a spirit mirror. Ford hated spirit mirrors even before he'd been accidentally trapped in one this summer, and he hated that they were legal. There was no reason this woman, just by virtue of being alive, ought to be able to evict the previous resident of this house and sentence him to purgatory in a mirror.

So he might have raised his voice a little. Which the woman hadn't liked at all. She'd shooed him out of the house, but kept loudly berating him as he went, so that in the end they hadn't ended their interaction so much as moved it to a very public street corner. Given her earlier threats to go to the newspaper, Ford had to wonder if this hadn't been her plan all along.

She was screeching about the wait time on filing a complaint with his division in the first place (admittedly it had taken three weeks to respond to her report) when they were interrupted by... someone who was speaking with some measure of authority, despite looking like he was younger than Ford.

"There's not," Ford interjected firmly, before the shrieking widow could take stock of the new situation and adapt her performance. "Just a melodramatic banshee who bought a house with a ghost and now pretends to forget that he was there first."

He could have added and he'll still be there when you're gone but he didn't want to jinx it. The last thing anyone needed was for her to die and stick around to haunt the property.

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Jack blinked as he received the very prompt and succinct answer.  There were at least 5 different factors here he knew nothing about.  He'd just began to wonder about the legality of property ownership versus ghost rights (if there was such a thing) when the older woman swiveled her attention  to sink her proverbial fangs into Jack.

Under the full weight of the woman's antagonistic attention it was much easier to appreciate the young man's use of the word banshee .  "Please, madam." he implored, raising a hand before she could fully launch into what he could only assume would be an exhaustive and animated account of her opinion.  "I am Constable Dorset -" he began slowly, trying to reset the whole tempo of the conversation.  "- and I will be happy to hear what everyone has to say.  But the rest of the good people up and down this street don't need to as well." He gave a nod to the gaggle of curious on lookers a short distance away who could no doubt hear every word being said.

Disturbing the peace was really the only law he could enforce at the moment.  Unfortunately trying to keep said peace might mean that he just signed himself up to be some kind of weird matron-ghost-guy liaison.

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Oh grand, a constable. That was just what the situation needed. Ford's interaction with the Hogsmeade law enforcement had been rather minimal (as were most people's, he expected) but he hadn't been particularly impressed with the last one he'd ended up working alongside. He was more of a hindrance to getting anything productive done than a help, really. Hopefully this one wasn't quite as — what was the word to describe Constable Woodcroft? He wasn't useless, he was just... more interested in throwing in sarcastic quips than he was in moving the situation along towards a reasonable solution. And not that fond of ghosts, but that wasn't necessarily something Ford could hold too much against him; most people weren't particularly fond of ghosts.

"How much time do you have?" Ford muttered under his breath. "She's got a lot to say."

On second thought, maybe he'd just caught Constable Woodcroft in a bad mood. There was something to be said for sarcastic quips. They might not be helping, but it did make him feel a bit better about now having to go through all of this again with the addition of a (probably useless) law enforcement official.

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Set by Lady!

The momentary beat of control he may have reined in was lost the moment the young man opened his mouth again.  The older woman fairly shrieked in indignation and continued to do so as she launched into a very shrill recounting of all her grievances.  Jack shot the young man a clear 'you are not helping' look before raising his hands again in an effort to clam the frenzied woman again.  Whatever sympathy and assumed comradery he'd felt with him was all but gone.

"Madam - M... Please, Mad-  MADAM." after trying to get a word in edgewise, he'd resorted to raising his voice above hers, which was no mean feat.  Finally silenced again, she was still bristling as Jack began again.  "If you cannot control yourself..." he trailed off because he wasn't actually sure what he'd do if the woman did indeed carry on.  Keeping the peace was serious business but so was detaining a potentially esteemed woman in the middle of High Street.

Instead he turned his attention squarely to the young man.  "Your name, sir?  And do you actually have business here?"

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   Fortitude Greengrass

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Had the circumstances been slightly different, Ford might have been amused at this turn of events. On the one hand, the woman's attention was turned elsewhere, and from the outside perspective watching her carry on was so ridiculous it was actually almost humorous, and the expression on the young Constable's face was as good as the expression on a slapstick comedy actor. On the other hand, he couldn't enjoy things too much when she kept littering her story with barbs directed at the nearby ghost, and a few 'facts' that Ford was convinced were patently false. It was hard to enjoy himself too much when spirits were being slandered with impunity.

He was quite content to wait her out until he was addressed again, though — he'd already tried and failed to interrupt her on several occasions, when they'd be inside the house. When the Constable did turn his attention to him, Ford raised an eyebrow in response, with an expression that seemed to say excuse me? This bloke thought Ford was just hanging around with this woman for the fun of it? Of course he had business here — if he hadn't, he'd be long gone by now.

"Ford Greengrass, Spirit Division," Ford said, with a slight jerk of his head in the direction of the nearby ghost. "She called me, actually, so it's her business, not mine."

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Set by Lady!

Jack gave Mr. Greengrass a brief incredulous look.  Wasn't the ministry meant to be helpful?  Instead it could be argued that he was making the situation worse.  At least worse for Jack.  He turned to the ghost, addressing him directly for the first time.  "And I'm sure it's safe to assume you have business here." Probably of the unfinished variety, Jack thought to himself.  Again, there was so much here that he did not know enough about.  Was it even possible for a ghost to vacate if he asked?

Visibly steeling himself, he turned back to the woman with his calmest tone "So that leav- Madam, I promise if you start shouting again I will have to silence you."  It was out of his mouth before he even realized it and his face made that surprise clear.  He'd seen her open her mouth, clearly gearing up … and it had just come out like that.  He cleared his throat and shuffled his feet into a squared stance. 

"If you are unhappy with the Ministry's response I'm sure there's some kind of …' he waved a hand around, fishing for the words, even looking over to Mr. Greengrass as if he'd been anything but unhelpful up to this point "… complaint form you can fill out.  But you cannot carry on like this on the street corner."

"Mr. Greengrass -"  He paused, not even really sure what to say.  It had been a heated exchange, he couldn't just focus on the woman's contribution to the commotion, but he was Ministry and again… there was so much here Jack knew nothing about.  "Perhaps another person from your division would like to… carry on here?"

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Ford smirked at the mention of a complaint form, sure that she would be displeased to have to deal with the hassle. He also didn't expect that it would turn into much of a problem for him when he explained what she actually wanted to happen, because anyone else from his division would have told her the same thing. Plus, a complaint form would take at least a few weeks to resolve one way or another, and she'd already been annoyed about the delay. The constable might as well have told her she could burn her house down if she didn't like the resolution Ford was offering. If this was amusing, however, his next suggestion was even better. Ford actually let out a short bark of laughter at that, surprised by the suggestion. There wasn't anyone else in the division who was nicer than Ford.

"Yeah, sure. I'll send her George Robins," he joked. This probably wasn't funny to anyone who didn't know George, but that was fine; he was aware he was being supremely unhelpful, so it was probably for the best if it it went over their heads. Besides, he wouldn't really send poor George; she'd eat him alive.

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Set by Lady!

Jack made no effort to hide his glare as Mr. Greengrass openly laughed.  Scrubbing a hand over his face he turned back to face the woman.  "There.  Mr Robbins will - " but when he opened his eyes the woman was already stalking back down the garden path to what Jack could only assume was her home leaving a trail of curses behind her.

He snapped back to Mr. Greengrass with a 'what the hell, man?!' expression because he was truly speechless at this point.  This was underscored by the sound of the woman's front door slamming behind her.  Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jack addressed the spirit first.  "Sir - I'm sorry, I didn't get your name - you might wanna lay low until Mr. Robins arrives... if that's something you can do." he frowned, clearly unsure what ghost rules were.  "And I'm sure Mr. Greengrass with make sure that happens soon."

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Oh dear, now they actually thought George was coming. Clearly Ford couldn't actually send him to face this woman, because he would literally wither. He supposed that was his own fault for making a joke no one understood, though; now he'd have to figure out what to do about it.

"He doesn't have to 'lay low,'" Ford protested. "He has just as much right to be here as she has. Arguably more, because he lived here first. Anyway — if you'd like to relocate, Mr. Burrows, due to your unpleasant new neighbors, my office would be happy to assist you," he told the ghost. Now that the woman who'd so aggravated him had stormed off, Ford was once again all professionalism and politeness. Mr. Burrows made it easy, of course, by not calling Ford names and raising his voice. "Otherwise I'll find someone to deal with this, sooner or later. But as long as you're not going out of your way to be a nuisance you're entirely within your rights under the Spirit Protection Ordnance of 1886, and you can tell her so."

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"Come on, man, give me a break!" Jack blurted, loosing his grip on professionalism just as the other was recovering his.  "I didn't say he had to, I was just saying Mr. Burrows might want to.  I would if someone like that moved into my flat."  How was he supposed to know ghosts could just relocate if they wanted?  Jack thought 'stuck' was a kind of fundamental aspect of ghosts.

With a sigh he reached for his notebook to scribble a few notes before he started to forget details.  This would probably need a report.  He wouldn't be surprised to hear someone ended up cursed after this and the Chief would have his head if he didn't have the historical paperwork. 

"If you end up coming back or if Mr. Robins would like support please let the Constabulary know."  Maybe if a Constable was dispatched for the next incident it would be much quieter.  He just hoped it wasn't him.

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Up until this moment, Ford had assumed that he and the constable were vaguely allies in the battle against Mrs. Niall, but this outburst certainly set the facts clear on that. Ford had expected the local law enforcement to be antagonistic when he was here trying to defend Barnaby Wye from trouble he had almost certainly caused or mitigating another ghostly calamity, but this caught him entirely by surprise; he and his ghost hadn't contributed to the disturbing of the peace at all, so what was this bloke angry at him for?

"If I end up coming back?" Ford repeated dryly. He had never considered himself the sort of person who might get into an argument with a law enforcement officer just for the sake of it, but he'd had a long day and this remark was particularly grating, especially given that it had come from someone who was undoubtedly younger than him. "Would you like me to pop 'round and collect you any time I'm supposed to do my job, then? Or — I live three streets over, d'you want me to tell you when I come back for dinner, too?" He nearly added something along the lines of maybe you'd prefer I just left all the spirits in Hogsmeade to your office, then, since you'll handle them all so much better? but he wouldn't have wished that on the ghosts. He didn't have a particularly high opinion of the constabulary's ability to accomplish things.

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Set by Lady!

Jack closed his note book, without having made much progress.  "How could you have possibly been offended by that?" he asked with an incredulous tone.  He thought he had done a good job at being professional and fair, even slightly favoring the man and his ghost more than the shouty woman and he was being given sass for his troubles.  No wonder the woman had thrown him out, who knew how bad things had gone before they moved the show out to the street.

"If you need help the Constabulary can give it." he said slowly, as if speed was problem.  "And whoever you collect, it won't be me." that last part came out far more sassy than he planned but the other man started it.  Besides if the Chief sent someone else on a Ghost call it would be because Jack messed this one up, not because Jack had any personal say in the matter. 

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Ford practically rolled his eyes. "How could I not be offended by the insinuation that you'd all like to check up on me while I'm working?" he responded. That was how he'd taken the line if you end up coming back please let the Constabulary know, at any rate. It did occur to Ford based on the younger man's response that it hadn't been intended that way, but now he was irritated and unwilling to just brush it off. "I'm good at my job," Ford insisted, raising his chin defiantly. "And last time I had a call with one of your lot, he wasn't exactly helpful."

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Set by Lady!

Well that was not the part he expected him to say.  With a perplexed frown Jack went back through his words, trying to see where exactly he had implied the man was bad at his job.  And ok, now that he said it he guessed that could be taken that way… but it was a stretch.  But Jack was already irritated by the whole event.  Even if he could see his point now, it didn’t change how aggressively unhelpful he'd been through the whole thing. 

"I'm sure you are…  No, wait.  Not like that!"  he raised his hands defensively, immediately trying to walk back his own words.  Truthfully Jack had no doubts about the man's capability… just his social skills.

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Ford was torn. He was still in a bad mood about the whole ordeal, and offended at the implication that he couldn't handle an absurd old woman who didn't like ghosts. On the other hand, it was clear now that the Constable hadn't intended to offend him, and the way the other man threw his hands up defensively made Ford feel a little bad for being mean to him. It wasn't exactly in Ford's nature to say spiteful things, and he couldn't sustain it long. The interaction with the woman may have given him the impetus to be a little rude, but it was flagging fast, and now this whole interaction just made him feel tired.

"My division will handle Mrs. Niall's case, Constable," he said. His tone was still a little defensive, but not actively provoking. He didn't want to stay here any longer and keep causing a scene, and he didn't actually want to be on bad terms with the local law enforcement authorities — and so far he didn't have the greatest track record in his interactions with them. "Good day."

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