A/N: This is a fic written by both myself and my fiance, who plays and writes Jareth far better than I ever could. Kindly read and review, if you have the time.

There was no doubt about it. Mondays were definitely the bane of her existence. Between waking up nearly half an hour after her alarm was supposed to go off, to discovering the water in her apartment was ice cold, only to then realize, when she finally got to work, that she was on interrogation duty… Well, by the time ten o'clock rolled around, Monday had pretty much been declared the shittiest day of the week.

One of her coworkers, a pudgy man in his early thirties, gave Na'Mira a sheepish smile as she went for the coffee. "Late start?" She grunted, once, and he offered out the sugar. "So, um… About the Masque you've got…?"

She grunted again, taking the sugar and unceremoniously dumping a good helping into the black sludge.

"I've heard he looks like David Bowie."

Now that got her attention. Na'Mira grabbed a second cup, filled it with coffee as well. "David Bowie? Now that's one I've never heard. Does he sing, too? Tried to play himself off as the real thing? Pass the milk."

"Not from what I've heard." He unscrewed the top and poured it for her, into the second cup. "Doesn't seem to deny being a Maskey at all, actually. Rather strange. Then again, what do I know? I'm just a techie. Boss says he's on floor four-fourteen. Said to keep an eye on him."

"Don't I always?" Once both cups were adjusted to desired taste, Na'Mira lifted them from the counter, gave her coworker a nod, and started towards the elevator.

God, she looked like crap. Even in the warped reflection of the elevator door, Na'Mira could tell the morning had not been kind to her. There were bags under her eyes, barely noticeable beneath her dark skin, but still present. Her hair was kinky, and she made a mental note to treat it later that weekend. Natural hair was one thing; nappy was another altogether. She would not be seen with nappy hair.

Okay, no. Now was not the time to think about her own appearance. She had a Maskey to interrogate and a job to do. Her hair could wait until Saturday. Maybe even Sunday. Until then, Na'Mira had more important things to focus on. Like where the elevator was currently taking her.

Floor 414. She had not been to that floor since the start of her employment, almost six months before. The Boss had taken her down there while explaining the purpose of the Lodge - to contain, interrogate and investigate the creatures known to possess magical qualities. She had been allowed to sit through one interview, and just one interview. After that, her days had consisted of reviewing charts and filing paperwork. Two weeks ago, she had been assigned to the Collection Agency; that was her first promotion, ever.

Apparently she hadn't done too well.

The elevator dinged, and Na'Mira stepped out. There, waiting outside The Cage like always, was George, her favorite security officer.

Na'Mira flashed her badge at him as best she could, considering the two cups of coffee in her hands, and he waved his approval. After a brief exchange, most of which was just grumbles about Mondays and Maskeys, he moves to the side to allow her to scan her card. The card reader beeped once, as if thinking, and then brightened. The door hissed as it slid open, revealing the freshly-caught Masque floating in the middle of the room. Mira released a sigh.

Damned Maskeys.

She stepped inside the room, letting the door slide shut behind her, and held up the cup in her right hand. Though the styrofoam in her left had already been tainted by dark red lipstick, the other was still white, untouched. A peace offering, of sorts.

"Coffee?"

The Masque was lean - thin as a rail, really, with the jutting cheekbones and long body to show for it. His eyes seemed mismatched, as if one was darker then the other, but that… wasn't quite the case. It was hard to finger what exactly it was, without getting a closer look. Excepting that, and excepting the flamboyancy of the clothes he wore, he seemed almost completely normal. His expression was one of pure and utter boredom, and perhaps a bit of annoyance. His eyes slid over, surveying her carefully before he huffed a sigh, letting his lower half drop. His feet touched the ground. He ran a hand through his slicked-back hair, red on top, blonde beneath.

"Does it have sugar?" His voice was smooth, almost quiet. His arms crossed over his chest. "I could use some."

She nodded once, moving to the table in the center of the room. She did not care much for the tricks the Masques like to use. Flying, hovering - if their feet weren't on the ground, she didn't care to talk to them. Hopefully this would encourage him to keep his feet on the ground.

"Sweetened to taste, just like how you Maskeys like it." Na'Mira placed the cup down on opposite side of the table, before taking the seat closest to her. She placed her own cup down. "I'm Na'Mira Williams." The words were spoken quickly, crisply. As though she was reciting a script; far too stiff to be natural. "Welcome to the Lodge. I do hope you haven't been waiting too long."

"All night, since you were gracious enough to ask." He walked to the table. Or perhaps floated was a better word, even if not literally true. Every move he made was practically ethereal. He took the coffee, sipped it. "May I ask why I've been brought here? I don't believe I've broken any rules you've put in place. I seduced a few people at the same time, that's all, and no one got hurt. I was having fun. They were having fun."

As he moved, Na'Mira shifted her purse from her shoulder, to place it on the ground. After a bit of fumbling, she found and removed both her tablet and the pen that went with it. She began to scribble notes, even as she spoke.

"I was hoping you could tell me that, actually." Reaching up, she pushed a curl away from her eyes. "Here at the Lodge, we are each assigned to our files and our situations. I know of you, but not why you were brought here. Please, enlighten me as to what you were doing and where you were when the Lanterns retrieved you."

The smile he gave her was dripping in passive-aggression.

"Well, let's see… I was bored, so I'd gotten myself a small gig singing in a bar, nothing too fancy. And there I met a woman - well, three women. And two men. And someone who didn't really choose to gender themselves, they were lovely." He paced and sipped as he talked, not bothering with the chair. "Skipping the gruesome details, I awoke later in a hotel bed in a lovely pile of naked bodies in their afterglow, and from there went to take a walk. That's when I was apprehended."

"I see. So you seduced half a dozen individuals and then proceeded to leave them in the middle of a hotel room." She continued to scribble the details down, using her unoccupied right hand to lift her coffee cup and bring it to her lips. "Are you a Bed Bug, then? Is that why the Lamps picked you up?"

He snorted, seeming offended by the idea. "I'm a goblin. I don't kill my partners."

"Goblin, right." She nodded, once. Her pen taps on the screen a few times, as she pulls up the files dealing with the Goblin race. They only had a handful of names one record, but only one matching the description of the man in front of her. Her lips pressed together, into a frown. "It's unlike you to make an appearance among the mortals, Goblin King."

"Oh, good, you know who I am now." The Masque rolled his eyes, but his lips pulled up, into a little smirk. "In actuality, it's very much like me to be amongst the mortals. Your organization just doesn't tend to find me as easily."

She quickly made that a note in his file, along with the added line of "Subject appears to have just a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Approach as one would a thirteen-year-old girl." Knowing how well that would go with her superiors, Na'Mira quickly erased it. Better to keep personal opinions out of professional writing.

"It says here, in an anonymous interview, that you and your Goblins kidnap and raise human children. Is that still the case, Goblin King? Or have you changed your occupation to something more… musical?"

It was very clear that he wanted to scowl. His facial muscles twitched, but the expression never appeared. He was too dignified for that. Instead, the smile simply fell. His eyes were cold.

"You cannot steal what's given freely to you."

"The desperate cries of an exhausted mother do not equal consent to having her child taken from her arms."

"It's clear when it's merely desperation that fuels them. When they legitimately want the child gone, that's when I answer their requests." He sighs, looking away. "I wouldn't leave a baby in an environment where it's unwanted and unloved, would you? It'd be much better for them to find a home where they can be truly cared for."

"And that's what you do, then? Kidnap a child, erase it from existence, and pass it on to a different magical family. You make these human children into something they are not supposed to be. How very interesting." She hasn't stopped scribbling. "Well, I suppose we cannot hold you here if you are guilty of no crime… Nothing that can be proven, of course."

Annoyance was clear on her face, in the way her brow furrowed. Not a single sign of softness showed behind dark eyes. She was trying so hard to stay a few steps ahead of him, to catch him on something. But, in truth, they had nothing on him. They knew who he was, what he did, but nothing he had done could be proven. The mothers never remembered their children, and the Goblin King himself was not going to admit to anything. It was just one vicious cycle after another.

The woman gave a sigh, returning to her notes, and added, "Not without a mother's testimony."

"You'd be surprised how many of my kind were once human," he murmured, a slight smile returning to him. "Either through marriage or adoption, they were changed. They just become part of our family. That's wrong?" He raised a brow. "May I go, then?"

Na'Mira simply raised a hand, waving it towards the door. "Speak to George. He'll guide you out of the building. You might have to fill out some paperwork first, of course. The Lodge needs to keep a record of every Maskey that walks these halls. And don't forget to take the coffee out with you. I'm not a maid."

He finished his coffee and nodded, crushing the styrofoam in his fist. He gave the woman a sweeping and sarcastic bow.

"My lady, I thank you," he smirked. His eyes got an almost dangerous glint to them. "What did you say your name was?"

She paused, to glance at him, over him. For a moment, Na'Mira was quiet. But then she sighed. She knew the Lodge's rules. They were at full disclosure with the magical community, just as the magical community was said to be at full disclosure with them. Such were the rules between their races.

"Williams, Na'Mira."

"It's been an absolute pleasure, Na'Mira Williams. I hope to see you again. Preferably in more amiable circumstances." That said, he made his way to the door, taking the crushed cup with him.