Verity was on her way back from the file room to Tonks' office. Something was wrong with her mentor; granted, she hadn't been working with the woman for very long, but she remembered her from back when she'd been a trainee herself. Tonks had -- many times -- dragged herself into the kitchen after an afternoon filled with haying followed by hours of dodging hexes and fighting hand-to-hand with Verity's Granddad with whatever weapons she could lay her hands on. Never once had she looked like this.

She entered the office, and announced, "All right, there's that pile filed. What's next?" She half expected to be dragged bodily into the training room for a little one on one.

Tonks was staring moodily at the calender on her desk, having already marked off all of the days she'd been on desk duty, and counted the days left until her due date. What's next would normally be her in the field, or anywhere but stuck inside at her boring, paperwork covered desk.

"You're faster than Romy was, Verity. I expected that to take a bit longer," Tonks said, trying at humour.

"Rumor has it that Auror Vane is quite a bit faster than I'll ever be," Verity quipped back.

Tonks snickered. "Yes, well, she doesn't have Moody as a relative."

Verity sighed. "Don't I know it." She looked at her mentor, and closed the door before asking her next question. "So..." She flopped down into one of Tonks' chairs. "Something the matter? You seem... off today."

"I'm irritated. I hate desks. I hate being behind a desk and my trousers don't fit. I'm cranky. Sorry."

Verity raised an eyebrow. "I've heard that about you and desks," she smirked. "As for the other bits... I don't know as I can help you beyond recommending that you wear dresses with empire waists under your robes."

Tonks raised her eyebrow. "It was paperwork and shoddy craftsman ship. And dresses mean skid marks and rug burns. Don't ask me how I know, I'm sure you can imagine."

She stood, stretching. "How about the training room? I'm sure that still counts as desk duty, and we can kick around some poor sod."

Verity grinned. "Sounds like a plan." She stood up and headed for the door. "So, why don't milk runs count as desk duty again?"

"Because then I'd be leaving the building. And someone dared to say because I'm making my own," Tonks said as she locked the door to her office behind her, and headed down the hall after Verity. "Three guesses as to whom."

"He didn't."

"He did. Little arse monkey."

The last comment gave Verity pause. "Wait. We are talking about Bishop, right?"

Tonks nodded as she pushed the door to the training room open. "Yep. He said that. So, I should probably call him a large arse monkey, but I'm not feeling kind."

Verity snickered. "I'm kind of surprised that you didn't tell him to pound sand." She followed Tonks into the locker room.

Tonks grunted in response. "I said something along those lines, and kicked him in the shin. Sometimes I'm glad my belly means he can't throw me over his shoulder anymore." Tonks changed quickly into a pair of stretchy pants and a tank top that was still long enough to cover her belly when she moved.

Verity had changed into a pair of spandex short and an athletic bra -- not that she particularly needed it. "Well... I guess you can't win them all." She turned around and looked at her mentor. "Wanna go see if Baddock is out there?"

Tonks' smile was more a flash of teeth. "Oh, lets."

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