It'd been a monotonous morning. Not, as some might think, because there had been only one job to do for hours on end; rather, because what confronted Violet at the beginning of the day was a series of tasks that she'd been handling for months without fail. She delegated to the respective, responsible underlings to manage the least sensitive paperwork, spelled her stacks of incoming documents to copy themselves into triplicate once they'd been sorted into the correct trays, and organized the Minister's most pertinent memos and notifications to be delivered, in stages, by level of importance.
Everything was running as efficiently and as smoothly as Violet had designed, with her fleet of minions dropping by being the only disruption to her otherwise seamless station. She had a gently steeping tea, several Mid Level reports to notate so that they could be read when the Minister returned from his lunch-meet with one of the requisitions representatives from the front and their associates, and a new set of crisp quills that took fantastically well to the barrage of note-taking charms she'd lathed them in. It'd taken only a half hour to get the quills running on three of her stacks of less important paperwork while she peeled through the second of her reports, green, blue, and red ink quills ticking down the lines of print with her.
And then there were shoes, right at the corner of her desk, and a figure that Violet was not familiar with. She was acquainted with all of her favored associates, shoes specifically, and their minions, etc. ad nauseam, and used her knowledge of these shoes to address people accordingly. Sitting prim-perfect in her chair, parchment in hand, Violet debated looking up at her untimely visitor.
Eyes up and away from documents meant her quills would slow, or she might miss something they weren't equipped to recognize. There was only so much trust one could place in spelled quills, after all.
So no, Violet did not look up at the man who addressed her as Miss Ashfield, although it wouldn't have even taken a turn of her head to give him a quick appraisal. Rather, one eye brow ticked up above the dark grey band of her glasses, but her gaze didn't stray. "All documentation to be delivered to the Minister must pass through at least two officials of the Ministry of Magic." She intoned, tapping a line of her form. The red ink quill descended, underlining, and then drawing a small arrow to the right. Confirm with Department Head Rosewood, printed itself in her own neat handwriting. "As no doubt one of your supervisory officials has vetted them," the eyebrow crept higher, "that would mean that the final official will be myself. You may leave them... there."
She pointed a toe toward the floor by the side of her desk. She could fit them in between her current reports and the scheduling updates for the coming month.