She'd nearly escaped. Tilda had been particularly excited to get away from Mr Bigot-Male-Coworker at the end of the day. He'd been on her case about some paperwork she'd filed earlier in the week wherein she'd accidentally misplaced a letter in his last name. It'd been a constant game of hide and seek between the two, with Tilda getting increasingly annoyed at playing a game she sorely wished she hadn't signed up for. If she were honest with herself, she had provoked it. He was such a smart-mouth, that the coding in her DNA refused to let him get away with him and she found herself doing things around the work area that she knew would get under his skin.

Harmless things such as re-arranging the tools in his kit to such a certain degree that it was impossible to discern what had gone where before. Or, slowly nicking the antiseptic cloths from his personal kit one by one so they were slowly depleted and by the end of the day, all gone. She replaced them at the beginning of each work day seeing as she didn't want anyone but him suffer her wrath. The harm became now, that he'd either figured out it was her, or just wanted to get on her nerves.

She had just slipped the last one out of his kit and was on her way out when the head matron had stopped her and told her there was a patient to see to. She knew it was her co-worker that had told the matron she was still here. Tilda had shot the closed door where her intended patient sat waiting a withering glance before rolling up her sleeves and taking the clipboard from the matron.

Casting a glance at the clipboard, Tilda read the name and read it aloud as she walked into the room. "Mr. Eugene Scamander?" she flipped through the pages, skimming the description of what happened. She couldn't help but wince as she read it. "I'm Tilda MacFusty, I'll be dressing your wounds this evening." She gave him a smile and with that, she took out her wand and bade the clipboard to a tiny hook on the door before she began summoning the first aid cart to her. It wheeled serenely in her direction.

A glass of water flew towards the patient. She'd aimed for his shoulder, but her present mood had sent the glass slightly off target and instead hovered somewhere around his ear. "Apologies I can't offer you anything stronger than that," she said, situating herself in front of him and examining his wounds. They were by no means life threatening but she still sucked in a breath through her teeth as she saw the damage up close. Her eyes flitted back up to the man and she gave him another small smile. "I've read the paperwork, but why don't you tell me in your own words?"

---