I can run using every last ounce of energy, I cannot, I cannot, I cannot run from my family

[notquitefacist.livejournal.com]

*There are only a handful of rooms that overlook the grand Atrium of the Ministry, and Crouch Sr. has made plans to fill one. A table is laid out with a modest but stately spread of lunch for three, alone with two stacks of his preferred midday paperwork.

Every file he goes over during lunchtime is a little workday extra. For the past several weeks court proceedings, status reports, and cases of every kind from every Department have begun being pulled seemingly randomly for the Minister's perusal. These things do not require his approval, and many of them don't even for him to be aware of their existence, but every day a few employees out of hundreds are informed of the Minister's opinion on their position, their caseload, and what direction they should take. Their files are simply chosen, like a toy from the muggle claw machines dropped into Crouch Sr.'s lap. Not even visit from his sisters can stop him from his little lunchtime preoccupation.

Below, a sea of witches and wizards filter around the Fountain, but Crouch Sr. is not paying attention to the ant-like operation outside the window. Even when the door opens he merely holds up a finger, signalling for quiet as he finishes a note on an arrest file. What's left of his family have insisted on seeing him for weeks, they can wait one more moment.*

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[rettie-c.livejournal.com]

*Rettie has been insisting for over week now that Barty let them visit and they try to help the poor man. He hasn't known much grief as it was more of a relief when their father had killed himself. Rettie suspects that Barty loved Bernadette more than anyone ever knew or saw and that he is currently focussing so hard on his work that everything else is suffering.

She flicks her eyes across the stacks of paper and parchment strewn in some sort of order across Barty's office but it is nothing that the sisters could understand. Their filing is much more ordered and everything is put away properly, even when Rona is in charge for a time.

The sisters clothing is dark out of respect, with similarly dour faces, in stark contrast to the usual bright colours and cheeriness. This perhaps is why Barty is seeming to pass them off as secretaries or nameless Ministry drones rather than welcoming them in.*

Bartemius, I am so glad you've let us see you. How are you dear?