The Ashes - she couldn't have come up with a more appropriate name for this collection of castoffs. Whoever had come up with the name had intended to evoke imagery of the Phoenix arising from it, but all she could see was a last ember, the glow all but faded. This war was all but over, and The Dark Lord had won. There were times Jia wanted them to call it quits just so she could have a drink.

She slammed her fist into the bag, twisted into a kick that set it to swinging. She wasn't much of a fighter in hand to hand, but keeping options open was important. Plus she didn't know many better ways to work off this black depression other than reducing a Death Eater to ashes. A smirk tugged at her lips as her mind came back to the word, maybe that was what they were really trying to evoke. Maybe Voldemort would win, but they'd make sure all he reigned over was ashes. 

That was what she wanted, anyway. She had a feeling her fellows weren't on the same page as her in that department. Aldenburg - the thought sent a surge of anger through her, which became a quick one-two strike on the bag's center - was only a little better than the Slytherin scum she'd known in school, trading overt hatred for this faux-Victorian aristocratic condescension. Working with the man was bad, living with him was worse, and having to be grateful for using his house just about turned her stomach. 

Although...a chuckle came out of her, and she lowered her hands. There was a certain comedy in him being in a position where he had to work with her. If he made her angry, she must make him apoplectic. She peeled off her gloves and stepped away from the bag before drawing her wand and flicking it, envisioning the result. A moment later the heavy bag had turned back into a creepy, dead oak tree. She flicked her eyes at her watch and grimaced - meeting, wonderful. 

"Tergeo." She tapped her wand to her t-shirt and jeans, the sweat flowing out of them and leaving her dry. She strapped her wand holster back onto her shoulder, then pulled her denim jacket over it. Practicality of a bulky robe in combat aside, she had developed something of a fondness for making sure that Aldenburg remembered that he was working with a mudblood, and wearing muggle clothes was just another part of that. Jia turned and headed for the house, her seething anger subsiding as she pulled her cold, focused detachment to the fore. Petty acts of irritation against an asshole colleague aside, it was time to work.