Whistle while you work (Open)

Cobalt was sat in the waiting room for the Auror department, whistling a little bit as he worked on filling out a short questionnaire that he'd been given. It was about how effective he found the Auror department and how it had effected his life, positively and negatively.

Needless to say the negative side seemed to be a lot heavier than the positive.

To be fair it was hardly surprising considering he had once been a wetboy. And as a wetboy the laws were things to be broken. And Aurors tended to frown upon that. So whenever a "Auror department and your business/work" question came up he wrote a scathing remark about how they had "destroyed his professional image in front of a client" and had, in fact, "confiscated some of his earnings". He neglected to mention how ill-gotten those gains had been.

Eric had finished filling out the last bit of paperwork. One could walk in, and rather than seeing him all tired and drawn tight, they would see him relaxed and peaceful. He gave credit to the sweet peppermint he had in his mouth, and the little snippets of music floating around in his head. With out those, he'd be just like another person in regards to the dreaded paperwork. He set his quill down with ease. He decided to get up and walk around.

He opened the door to his office, his black leather long coat, black jeans, combat boots, and black gloves gave off an air that said, "Mess with anyone in my line of sight and you're going to get it." The graying, close cut hair, and blue eyes gave off the impression of wisdom and understanding. He hadn't interacted with many people much because he was always swamped with paperwork.

Upon arriving in the waiting room, he noticed a man sitting there. He recollected all the profiles he had asked for when he came here from the U.S. The man looked like a Hogwarts professor. Cobalt Smith, yes, that was his name. He read that, well, he and the Auror department never saw eye to eye. Eric was never one to judge until he had met people first.

"Hello, Professor Smith, is it?" he asked in his American accent.

Cobalt was beginning to think that this questionnaire was never ending. Or perhaps they just had a charm on it to add more questions until he finally answered a question that showed the auror department in a better light than what he was currently painting them in. Stranger things had happened to him involving paperwork.

Feeling someone looking at him, he glanced up just as the man spoke to him. Looking the man up and down and, in a second, evaluating how hard he'd be to take down, Cobalt stood from the chair and held his hand out for the man to shake,

"Yes. But outside of school please call me Cobalt." he told the man, who was obviously an auror, "You seem to have me at a disadvantage sir. You know my name but I don't believe I know yours."

Eric watched silently as the Professor looked him up and down, as if evaluating hoe hard he'd be to take down. When he shook his hand, Eric mentally smiled that he hadn't been too forward. Hearing the question, he chuckled softly.

"My apologies, I'm Eric Stryker," he said, neglecting to mention the Head Auror rank, as he had never really been one for titles. Even in the Marine Corp, he had always insisted that his subordinates call him by his last name, Stryker.

"What brings you to the Auror Department, Cobalt?" he asked, curiously.

Cobalt noted the man's body language. It was calm, it was measured. But most importantly to Cobalt; it was trained. The man stood, even when he outwardly appeared relaxed, as if ready to either spring to attention or into action,

"Hello Mr Stryker." he greeted the man, his mind now clicking name to a face. His eyebrows rose, "Unless there's another Eric Stryker in the building, you're the Head Auror. Nice to meet you in person."

He chuckled a little bit and shrugged,

"I was directed here by several other offices." he admitted, "I've developed a new type of attack and I need someone who can classify it's threat levels. In case I'm not allowed to teach or sell it."

Eric nodded curtly at Cobalt, glad that the man knew who he was without Eric telling him. He grew to learn that to always introduce yourself with a title usually led you to feel slightly above most others. A small thing he had noticed over the years.

"I prefer to just be referred to as Mr. Stryker. Titles can be a waste of breath," he said, nonchalantly, waving his hand. "And the pleasures all mine," he added.

Eric nodded his head thoughtfully.

"Shall we go to my office, then? Just for the sake of privacy on such matters," he offered gesturing with his hand to the direction of his office.

Cobalt smiled a little bit at Eric's approach to his title and to introductions. It was always refreshing to find a public servant who didn't try to elevate themself over the public that they were sworn to serve,

"Then Mr Stryker you say be. Until such a time when you are comfortable enough around me to allow me to call you Eric." Cobalt told the man before nodding a little bit,

"Yes I think it would be prudent." he admitted, reaching the door first. He held it open for Eric, "After you Mr Stryker."

Eric lips twitched in a cross between a small smile and a small smirk. He inclined his head slowly. He ushered Cobalt to his office. They made the small trek there with little incident of which he was glad for.

"Thank you for the consideration, Cobalt," he replied, well-mannered as always. It may be pointless in the heat of battle, but no sense in totally rejecting manners in a normal social environment.

"Again, thank you kindly," he replied to the gesture, his Western American accent leaking out a bit.

They entered his office. It was cozy to say the least. A fireplace with floo access on the right wall. Above it rested a U.S. Marine ceremonial sword. On the wall were two Colt pistols with bullets in a glass case. Two simple deep brown leather armchairs. A small rug under a coffee table. His desk sat with its back to a window. A bookshelf on the left side of the room with various books on war history, strategy, and some fiction.

His desk itself was a family heirloom. It had many intricate engravings of herds of horses on the edges. It was a deep red-brown color.

Eric sat in his chair behind his desk, which was a simple wooden chair with semi soft cushions. He gestured for Cobalt to sit in another on the other side, this one more comfortable than his, but he was never one to complain.

"Now tell me, what exactly does this attack do or how does one perform it?" Eric asked, getting out a small sheet of paper and muggle pen.

Cobalt smiled a little bit. He liked this Head Auror. He'd met many of the man's predecessors and none of them had shown him the same level of respect. Or the amount of common sense in most cases. As they entered the office Cobalt raised an eyebrow,

"Nice office." he commented, looking around slowly, "Has the feel of a private study. I especially like the Colts but then again I'm a bit of a gun nut at times."

Sitting down in a chair opposite Eric, at the man's invitation, he paused as he observed the desk. It was a beautiful piece of furnature to be sure,

"The attack is quite simple. You infused magic into either your right or left arm, depending which one is dominant." he told Eric as he rubbed his right arm gently, "What you do is direct the flow of magic to your muscles. This... hurts. However, what it does do is pushes your muscles into overload. Push more magic into the muscles and magic will start to 'bleed' off around your hand. Ball your hand into a fist and throw a punch. I've only tried it a few times but I've tried to vary the amount of magic used. So far I know it can punch a man's arm through stone, iron, steel, brick and ice. All without causing external injuries."