At present work is the last thing occupying Morrigan's thoughts, other concerns spread out across a desk headed for someone else before a glare levelled saw it brought to her door. A door to be replaced to be certain. After the more pressing matters are dealt with.

"Pel," she greets with a glance up as she begins to gather up what does creep over her desk, separating out errant notes of Kieran's from her own. He'll want those with him. Or she'll want him to have them. "An urgent matter I take it?"

Morrigan had arrived late, after the child but runners are willing to talk when the witch offers tea and to not make them do things for the price of a cup of gossip.