From what she knew of Mr. Hatchitt, he possessed a great many talents. From quidditch to transfiguration he was a jack of all trades, except in navigating small talk conversation with an angry woman. Fallon merely nodded as he spoke, her gaze still fixed to the spot on the floor. There was nothing else to say, really.

Minutes passed, leaving her to ponder sinking to the floor alongside him. Her stubs that were her toes were mostly healed now, but they still hurt every so often. The scar tissue was pink and tight as all fresh injuries were. Hopefully it would stretch sooner than later. Running would be a bitch with the aching pain in her shoes.

Fallon, in her determination to ignore him and their recent history, was deep in thought when the apology came. He was sorry? For what? Was it for pulling away when she thought they were moving towards something more? Or was it for his assumptions that would've made Fallon scream were they not in an elevator at their place of employment? Better yet, did his reasonings even matter?

"For?" She asked without looking at him. Mr. Hatchitt's attractiveness was distracting on her best days. One charming smile from Jimmy and she would forget why she was pissed at all.