The nix in the shower had certainly been a surprise. The client had said a pixie infestation (personally he thought it was just a particularly bad case of mice) so you can imagine his surprise.

The two or three pixies that had made their home in the bathroom had been easy enough to deal with, but he hadn't been expecting to get attacked with the showerhead as soon as he pulled open the curtain.

Pixie infestation my ass! Clearly the client had forgotten to share crucial information during the call. What did they think he was? The exterminator?!

Still, to get bested by a single measly nix… how humiliating! One of the client's cats stares at him judgmentally from the doorway. As if it could do better! He can perfectly imagine Baz's face laughing at him. In the absence of Baz, he supposes he will need to vent his anger on the creature in front of him.

He manages to capture it without any further incident, but the fact that his clothes are now completely soaked cannot be changed. Not to mention the ink on his seals has probably smeared all over, if they haven't completely dissolved yet.

And it's not even noon yet.

He makes his way out of the bathroom to look for the client, his shoes making a squelching noise as he walks. The client, apparently completely unaware of the drama that had just taken place in their very house, is watching TV peacefully in the living room with a cat in their lap. "All clear. I'll be taking my leave now," he calls out.

"Hm? All right, you have a good- Oh my," they give him a sympathetic look, "are you okay? You're completely soaked. You sure you don't want to dry off?"

He waves off their concerns. "It's fine. Wouldn't want to be a bother."

"It wouldn't be a problem."

"No, no. It's okay," he answers, trying to put on a reassuring smile that probably comes looking more like a grimace, doing the complete opposite of reassuring. Truthfully, he just wants to get out of this house. Even before the nix attack, he kinda hated this place. It reeks of cat litter. He's pretty sure at least three of the cats had been giving him death stares since he arrived. He'd rather not risk it. After all, it has been proven they are vicious little creatures, as previous experience had taught him.

~~~

He sighs in relief once he steps through the front door of the offices of the Bureau of Magical Affairs. The way back had taken a lot longer than what he remembered, probably due to the many curious glances thrown his way. Still… he doesn't blame them. Not even the mother that had gasped (VERY loudly; almost screaming) and quickly ushered her child away. (He's never been a mother, so who's to say he wouldn't have reacted the same way?)

Now he just wants to get out of his wet clothes, which are already clinging to him uncomfortably, and he's starting to shiver. (Really, the last thing he needs is to catch a cold.) For the first time ever, he's thankful the A/C is not working.

But he doesn't even make it past the lobby before he's stopped by someone calling out to him.

"Ah, Master Kit, you're back," a teenager with spiky black hair pops out from the backroom, "the Director was looking for you a while ago. I told her you were out on a job, so she told me to tell you to go see her as soon as you were back." He takes a look at his soaked appearance. "Though I would recommend you make yourself more presentable before doing so."

He runs a hand across his face. Being called by the Director was never a good thing, but today it almost feels like a death omen. "Thank you for informing me, Gnocchi," he says sarcastically.

"You're welcome," he grins back and quickly ducks back into the backroom. He knows better than to hang around when he sees his master in a bad mood, something he had to (painfully) learn through experience.

Just my luck, he sulks. Briefly, he wonders just which god he had offended for this to be happening to him.

Well, no matter. It's not like he can change his fate. The least he can do is face it with dry clothes.