If Eugene never saw another pixie in his life, he would be a happy camper. After spending hours getting that debacle handled and every pixie expelled from the ministry, Eugene wasn't sure the intern responsible deserved to be fired, but he highly doubted they would make it in his department long term. Of course that wasn't up to him, it was up to Adlard, but he'd certainly have something to say about it.

Feeling guilty about missing dinner and subsequently bedtime, Eugene didn't have the heart to ask the staff to make him a late dinner, so he'd stopped round the pub for something quick to eat. He was walking heavily on his cane as he entered the Broomsticks, hip aching after being up and moving around the ministry for an extended period of time this afternoon. Happy Friday after all. After settling himself into one of the few free tables, Eugene requested a double of firewhiskey and whatever was available for dinner. He wasn't picky. He straightened out his bad leg, trying to stretch out the sore muscles, thinking he ought to check in with Miss Owens about her progress making something for his aches and pains. He was far too young to feel quite this old.

His drink arrived first and Eugene had barely gotten it off the table to take a sip when the whole thing went toppling sideways. Startled, he withdrew his legs immediately and regretted the quick movement, hissing out an unmistakable noise of pain. What was this day, anyway? His patience were paper thin at this point in time, but considering he was still in his ministry robes from work, he sucked in a deep breath. "Everything alright there?" He asked, voice tight. At least he'd saved his drink. That would have been a true travesty.