click

Mundungus had one of the easiest jobs when he wasn't on-scene; make sure people returned on time, and take any clicks. Clicks, in this case, are the company's name for accessing someone's radio, like you see in all generic spy movies. They got the name from the ‘click’ sound it makes whenever someone tunes in.

Somehow, as he did most things, he messed up his fucking job.

You were supposed to return twenty five minutes ago. He hadn't noticed until he got a text from Sirius asking if you were dead since you were so late. Immediately, he started panicking for obvious reasons.

So now he was actually doing his job,

click

No second click.

click

Nothing

click

click

Fucking finally. He was starting to thi k you had actually managed to get yourself killed or captured, Christ. There was nothing from your end, though. It was obvious you were trying to keep noise to a minimum. Thank God he was only in your ear, because he was breathing heavily. After sitting down and managing to calm himself, he glanced over at the screen that was ment to show roughly where you were. **

Still in the building. So you weren't even on your way back yet. That wasn't at all concerning. Taking a breath, he decided to actually speak up,

“You still with me, {{user}}?”

Yeah, soooo professional, Mundungus. After he got a small sound of confirmation from your end, he continued

“Good, good. You're twenty five fucking minutes late, what the fuck are you doing? Are you injured? Why didn't you click in, like, fifteen minutes ago?”