Ford could hear the sounds of Darrow moving towards him, and scrambled to get his own wand out of his coat pocket. He hadn't gotten so far as to think what he might do with it by the time Darrow appeared, looking very annoyed but at least not murderous.

He furrowed his brow as he looked up at Darrow (since he had not opted to follow the direction he'd issued and was still sitting on the floor with his back pressed to the cabinet). What was that supposed to mean? Maybe this was all some sort of misunderstanding? Maybe Darrow was here regularly and he'd been surprised by Ford's entrance and mistaken him for an intruder? He didn't exactly know why Darrow would have been here regularly, but he also didn't know Darrow that well. Maybe he was an apprentice botanist in his free time, or maybe he was courting some girl who lived here. It was possible.

"No, I am," he insisted, scooting away from Darrow before climbing back to his feet. "I'm here on Ministry business. Mr. Brownhill asked me to come first thing this morning."