AN: In my defense I just finished reading the part of a certain book where a certain snowy owl dies. Rowling why must you hurt me so?
Hello to all new readers and followers. Please enjoy the choice of a butterbeer or a glass of my tears.

Emma had run out of things to organize, and that in of itself was worrisome but when she reorganized the newly organized it set poor Harriet on edge. Harriet, whilst the newest of Emma's staff, was extremely observant, and had been wary of her boss's behaviour for a few days now. She couldn't help but fidget at her desk as she waited to be called on the intercom. She had in fact, developed a twitch of sorts. Sure enough the intercom soon alerted her that someone required her assistance, that person however was not Emma as she had expected, but Alex Knightley.
If Harriet jones was on edge, Alex Knightley was toppling over and trying to claw his way back up. He sat glaring at his computer typing absently, his body seemingly disconnected to his mind. "You asked to see me?" Harriet chimed, from the doorway.
"Yes. Come, sit," Harriet noted his shortened speech warily, but did as she was asked. "Harriet, how are you?"
"Oh, I'm good," she nodded enthusiastically. "mmhmm, great."
"That's good," he smiled tightly. "And Emma, how would you say she is?"
Harriet took a moment to pause, "…Emma?" He nodded slowly. "Well she seems fine, but…"
"But?"
Harriet took a breath and hoped Emma wouldn't be mad at her. "She's organizing again. It's just, well, she organized perfectly the first time, I mean she's Emma, but… she just won't stop."
Alex tapped his chin thoughtfully, "how do you suppose we fix that?"
"Well, maybe we could just ask her not to, anymore," she cringed at Alex's dubious look, knowing that her plan wouldn't work on anyone, least of all Emma. "Think about it some more Harriet, and let me know if anything comes to mind.

The matchmaker/ lifestyle coach in question, could sense that someone was lurking just outside her office, and she had no doubt who that someone was. Try as she could, she couldn't stand it for long. Usually this would frustrate her, but today it was mixed with something else. An unusual knot was forming in her stomach, she really hoped she wasn't sweating, and she most definitely had a dreadful urge to clear her throat. This most definitely was not Emma Approved and there was only one person the blame. "Snarky Knightley, haven't you learnt it's not polite to snoop, yet?" Aforementioned Knightley crept into his business partner's office quietly, not bothering to reply.
"You're, organizing," he stated.
"You're, snooping," she retorted.
"You're making Harriet nervous."
"Everyone makes Harriet nervous."
"You're making me nervous."
"You made me nervous first," Emma's eyes widened as she realized what she had said, Alex merely raised his eyebrows.
"So all this," he motioned around the room, "is because of me?" Her jaw twitched and he knew he had got her.
"I'm tidying because I want a neat workspace, it has nothing to do with you."
"If you wanted to be neat, you wouldn't be reorganizing for the third time this week, Emma."
"Maybe I'm just checking my options, maybe I want to move the furniture," she was beginning to lose her temper.
"I remember moving the furniture around when we first set up. You like the room like this."
"People's opinions change, it's not a completely unheard of concept, Alex," she puffed out, losing her temper a little more.
"Yours don't," he couldn't help but give a small smile, at her grumpy frown.
"What do you want Alex? Are you really, here just to make fun of me?"
"I want to make sure you're alright,"
"I'm fine," she shrugged him off.
"You can't always be fine," he tugged his hand through his hair.
"Alex," she warned wearily.
"Look, instead of worrying about things and stress organizing you could try to fix them. Just like you do everyone else's."
"I already tried that," she refused to hold his gaze any longer and instead chose to twirl the ring on her finger.
Alex to a deep breath and made to talk, rather unsuccessfully.
"I'd prefer if we didn't continue this now. We are at work. Work means professional conduct, you've said yourself, that's mines lacking," Emma said, still refusing to look at him. "So if there's nothing else, I'll get back to work."
"Later then," and he left without another word said.