Dionisia's lips slipped into a tight frown. Though she understood the auror's desire to assist in the expedition, to do so while in his sister—or even while recovering—would have been, in Dionisia's professional opinion, a brash move. She hoped that the Ministry was smart enough to employ a number of useful people with skills that would help the others who would undoubtedly be less-experienced. They were shipping people in, but many people well-versed in outdoor survival were those from poorer backgrounds, and many of them could not afford to give up a month, a week, or even a day's worth of work to search for a solution that may not exist.
"I'm sure I'll have plenty of time to," she responded, the corner of her lip tugging up into a grin as she walked alongside the wheelchair-bound Mr. Rosier. "Assuming we aren't overrun with volunteers, that is. There's no telling what they'll discover; the fog could be more nefarious than currently thought."
"I'm sure I'll have plenty of time to," she responded, the corner of her lip tugging up into a grin as she walked alongside the wheelchair-bound Mr. Rosier. "Assuming we aren't overrun with volunteers, that is. There's no telling what they'll discover; the fog could be more nefarious than currently thought."
