Percival Graves sat in his office, awaiting Scamander's arival. He looks at his wristwatch, the man waw 5 minutes late and Graves could begin to feel irked by the non punctuality. Almost as if on que, he received a knock on the door, "Come in." He calls. The door slides open, and he's surprised to see the face of his secretary looking quite worried,
"Mr. Graves, Mr. Scamander is in the infirmiry downstairs, there was an aparation mishap." She says in a careful voice, nervous for his reaction. He groans and pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on.
"I'll be right down." He mutters, she slips the door shut and he hears heels click quickly away down the hall. He leans back in his chair, sighing and looking at the ceiling, already running possibilities of being sued and the repercussions his office could face, he needed to go speak to Scamander now to calm any legal matters.
He grabs the suit jacket off of the back of his chair and swings it on. He murmurs a few words and aparates into the infirmiry waiting room.
He's whooshed into the room with no difficulty. He approaches the desk, and asks for Scamander's room number. The man behind the desk- obviously nervous of Graves' status- offers to lead him there. Graves agrees impatiently and follows close behind as the man walks down the hall.
They stop abruptly in front of room number 2611. The man scuttles away quickly, leaving Graves alone in the bright sterile hallway. He hears the sudden high pitched "No Mr. Scamander! Please stop!" and quickly opens the door.
He sees Scamander, sitting on the bed, clutching his wrist to hiw chest shaking violently. He looks up as the door creaks behind Graves, then snaps his eyes quickly down where they end up gazing at Graves' shoes, looking terrified.
The sudden pang of pity for the man sitting before him takes him off guard, he has a sudden urge to reach out to the shivering man. "Mr. Scamander?" he calls gently, feeling a bit hesitant to disturb him. The redheaded man leaps awkwardly off the bed, sending him banging into the table and onto the floor where he struggles on the ground before collapsing into a limo heap.
An immense wave of guilt and sadness rushes over Graves, was this man victimized too? Was this gentle beast tamer hurt to the point of being scared by the image of his face? He feels his heart sink, he couldn't bear to think of what kind of activities had gone on to achieve that reaction.
Graves rubs his chin gently, not knowing what to do in this strange situation. Should he stay? Should he leave? Something pulled him to stay, tempting him to comfort the poor mess of a man. He knew that he had to help.