"A bit blunt and to the point, aren't we?"

This didn't faze Jez in the slightest. As far as she was concerned, that was a compliment, though admittedly the fact that it was Haddock saying it turned it into a disguised insult. She shrugged languidly, not moved to respond.

"Sometimes that method works. More often," and he handed a raggedy file to the seventeen year old, who accepted it grimly, not the slightest bit of curiosity present, "it fails. However, I'll humor you. A touch. I've gotten the sense that you're not overly awed with what I do."

Tilting her head as he looked her in the eye, she remained looking unsurprised and somewhat disinterested. She knew he knew. She knew how he knew, come to that - the fact that she felt his job was redundant; a poor excuse for his title of Auror, was not something she'd even strived to conceal.

"Interrogation, that is. It seems, admittedly, a bit less exciting than say racing about the countryside hunting down the bad guys. I'd not trade what I do for the world.

"Whereas Morgan or Worthington may spend hours chasing leads and ending up with nothing, I have never yet walked out of an iterrogation without gleaning something of vast import, if not more often ending up with the key to a life setence in Azkaban."


The look of "I am so not impressed" that the Hufflepuff had been sporting since she had been introduced to Haddock didn't budge. Admittedly, it took quite a bit to impress Jez in the first place, but Haddock was so far off the mark he couldn't see it with a telescope. Interrogating suspects was, to her mind, utterly pointless. And while she had kept the verbal confession of such at bay, it seemed that, while he was being as frank as he was probably capable of being, now was the time to say it, and consequences be damned.

"Right," she said, with no particular rancour. "Look, Mr. Haddock." She really hated calling him that.

"You do your job well, as far as I can see. Well done and all that. But, as you've clearly guessed, I'm just not interested. I want to be one of those idiots - 'cause I bet you think they are idiots, don't you? - that runs around the countryside chasing shadows and will probably die in a nasty way. You're good at what you do," she repeated this, in an effort to not get fired from her internship, "but I think it's... well, I mean..."

She glanced at the ragtag folder in her hands, concerned, before a mad, out-of-the-blue grin shot to her lips.

"Why don't you just give 'em some Veritaserum and watch 'em sing like canaries?"

It was, after all, not that difficult to brew. It had to be used under Ministry approval, but surely they'd approve the use of it in cases like this, and therefore eliminate the need to pay Interrogation Specialists, right?