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Phaedra Leto Dionysius didn't like people in general. She was an anti-social, harsh, highly intelligent and standoffish bitch. Her words were always carefully cut, selected, mulled and chosen before they exited her mouth, unless she happened to be enranged. She was just as violent physically as she was with magic and words. People tended to raise her hackles very quickly. She liked being alone, she liked not talking to anyone but interactin with other humans, other wizards and witches was an unfortunate necessity of life. Luckily she did not have to do this to a great extent. Her profession allowed her to be holed away, hidden from the world while the rest laughed, sang and danced. Her colleagues considered her to be odd, dangerous, and utterly weird. She did nothing to deter thsi image, in fact she encouraged it. Why not? Why be the same as everyone else when everyone else was so predictable and boring? She needed danger, a thrill but it seemed to the only way to get that these days was to fight Death Eaters or become one. It was becoming apparant she had more in common with them than she'd like.
Work had been something of a major tedium for Phaedra. It was unusual or her to want to get away as fast as humanly possible, or quicker. She loved her work. Spells had been her life for several years but today it seemed there was nothing which could be done to placate her need to get away from the Ministry, to get out and do something for once. A nutorious work-aholic like herself was often critisiced for liking her work to the dangerous extent she did. Almost consumed by spells she would shun almost everyone and everything to perfect the most intricate or obtuse of incantations. She considered she put more work in, far more, than anyone else but she was still a junoir. She did not plan on being that way for long. Ambition sparked electricity, jolting heavily in her veins. She planned to be huge in certain ways and today, a quiet little job, sitting in her tiny office, secluded and alone just wasn't going to help her at all. Phaedra longed for life all day that day. Plans to go clubbing, a like which tended to surprise people, had erupted in her veins. Also the need to to go Gringotts to get more cash but that was just a necessary detour.
As soon as she was able to flee from work she did so, much to the wide eyed amazement of her work colleagues. Normally the last to leave, Phaedra had often been harsh on those who had left early, and slightly mean to those who had left right on time. Anyone who remained behind, even a little seemed escape her dislike. AT the very least Phaedra would be polite and refrain from allowing tone to enter the conversation. She did believe in being polite after all. Courtesy made everything run so much smoother. Gathering her notebooks from her desk had been a simple enough task. Carefully resetting the security charms had taken a few minutes on each before she carefully, reverently, gathered them into her bag, sliding them in gently as though they were precious. Pens, pencils, quills and ink had all been carefully contained before being placed in a specifc location in her bag. Chosing today, not to shrink her bag to almost non existance, she travelled with it over her shoulder, walking briskly as always.
Sharply dressed, with heels five inches, she entered Gringotts lobby. The clack of her heels was sharp against the smooth marble tiling. She looked behind her checking for dents. Angering Goblins was never a wise idea and once she was satisied she was indeed not leaving a trail behind her she continued onwards, almost daring anyone to suggest she change her footwear. Just let them try. Normally she would have glared at a Goblin openly but today she decided she would rather avoid the confrontation. It would take ages to disengage from a row with one of those strange and easily angered (but not easily placated) little creatures. Phaedra was about to que when she noticed someone she recognised. She was younger than the Marauders but had followed their moves because it seemed safer that way. Being suspicious of the Griffindor boys was a constant job. She was a Slytherin so it was in her best interests to keep an eye on them all, although she never had given much stock to Pettigrew. "Pettigrew," She said, not overly loud, but enough she he would hear her. She had no idea why she was doing this. Perhaps it was because he looked a little slimy and she did not want security to go postal as they tended to do so easily. "You're making the Goblins nervous. I would appreciate it if you could keep her heart rate a little lower," She had no interest in what he was into. He could be gay, or liked wearing a tutu, be wearing female underwear or a Death Eater and she would not care. Just so long as it did not ruin her day.
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