Karsten had never planned on owling Elyas. Not for a second. The fact he didn't own an owl was certainly not the main reason. No, he had had no intention of ever getting into contact with the other man again. He wasn't too hopeful about Elyas forgetting; even that sounded delusional to him. But maybe, with some hope, the German Ministry was as bureaucratic as its Muggle counterpart, and it would be too difficult to get Karsten's contact information, and Elyas would just give up. Maybe. Unlikely, though.
So it was with the almost prescient feeling that Elyas would eventually come along that Karsten had gotten into work that morning. Luckily, he wasn't there yet, and the broom mechanic could get some work done without the distraction. He'd been asked to work on an old Comet, a family heirloom, a vestige of an era gone by where security was minimal and the speed was comparable to that of a three-toed sloth. The family had inherited their grandmother's broom, and now wanted to pass it on to their eldest child, but without all the dangers this model presented. It was a good idea, and this was a project Karsten would enjoy working on.
He was summoning his dusty broom model compendium when he heard a noise at the garage door. He decided to ignore it for a while, but when it didn't stop, he turned around. As expected, there was Elyas, looking annoyed.
'You came,' Karsten said, unsurprised and unenthusiastic.
Baa-baa, black sheep, have you any wool?