On many days, the unknown felt exhilarating. Never a second thought as to the outside world as Sweetie combed through file after file. Yet events such as these held a different sort of weight towards them. So many lives now seemingly lost. The Whitledge family were knew their own share of grief and it hit home in a way that she carefully guarded in her posture, her eyes. Yet the shuffle of her papers was just a bit faster than normal. More temperamental and less precise. If one barely knew her, they wouldn't notice. Though, it would be hard to not get to know someone to some degree in these quiet halls.

Catching Judy's mention of mists, Sweetie found herself mentally reprimanding herself. There were few accounts for mists, few accounts for mists and fogs that didn't have some spirit or muggle lore attached, so Sweetie's mind begun blurring the two in her frustration and she began to wonder if she had been calling their current predicament a fog as though she had no clue what they were even doing. No time for that now, she didn't want to seem even more foolish than she already felt.

"Do we have record of any findings from the law enforcement's investigation?" Of course, that department was currently a train wreck. She was sure that former Minister Ross was doing his best, she had respect enough for him, but he was only there temporarily, and she was sure the wolves were circling... not to be crass. "From how it has moved, this could be planned. Target an event first, then the whole village, but what next? Simply stay in place?" The movement of the mist seemed more organized and less organic than any other nature-like magic that would be found to work independently of planned intervention.

---