Post by Nicci on Apr 19, 2011 7:31:29 GMT
New mid week day 'Wednesday 11th' starts with... The OoTP members in a well known branded coffee shop 'Starbucks' *cough!*. Approx 11am.
*From the leather backed armchair by the shop front window, he held his folder tabloid newspaper closed in one hand and gazed at the blissfully unaware muggles hurrying about their business on the pavement outside. They had no idea that he was out of the ordinary, they ignored him like they ignored any other stranger on the streets of Oxford Street. Such mindless fools they were...
Reaching out for his cooling grande cappuccino in its chunky white ceramic mug with the coffee shop insignia blazoned in green on the side, the smartly dressed middle aged man glanced at his watch on his wrist. It was nearly time for him to attend work for the day but this wasn’t just any ordinary work and one that certainly didn’t require a briefcase, just the dragon heartstring cored oak wand that was nestled safety inside his jacket was required.
*"How many times do I have to go OVER this, Wilson?!" A middle aged wizard shouted at a trembling witch, not much older than 20. "NEVER make a mistake! That slip up with the Kings almost got us killed!" he scolded. "It was a miricle that the Aurors didn't catch us as it was, without you dropping your wand in the middle of a spell! Why do I put up with you idiots?!" And with that, the wizard stormed out of the house and disapparated to his own home. Clarke Wilson scowled at the empty air and slumped to the table, banging her head against the hard surface.
"As if I need him having a go at me... I need to go see /him/ next aswell... It wasn't MY fault Audrey King grabbed my leg and bit me. Stupid wizard..." she cursed as she got to her feet, grabbing her wand, and disapparated to the toilets in a muggle coffee shop. She walked through the doors and saw the man she was supposed to meet. She approached him casually.
*Downing the last of his milky, average tasting coffee, the man sat by the window licked his bottom lip instinctively to remove any last frothy remnants as he placed the cup back down on the table.
Tucking the folded newspaper under his right arm, he noticed the young woman approach his location and he stood to greet her. Noticing her soft, delicate complexion he stereotypically presumed her magical ability by her youthful age and smiled, intrigued in wonder as to how he had suddenly been demoted to ‘babysitter’.
Taking a second look at his leather strapped watch; he observed the minute hand just ticking over onto the third tiny marker past the eleven.
“Early? That makes a surprise..At least both of us will start the morning off on the right foot” he spoke, clearly referring to his ritual daily brew. He came to the same coffee shop every weekday morning at exactly the same time without fail. The staff always remembered how he liked his beverage but never prodded with cheesy greeting questions into his business.
He liked that about this quaint place really, a simple reply of “the usual, I’m fine” was enough to satisfy the baristas enquiry to which they’d always reply ‘Have a nice day’.
There wasn’t much to be said for ‘nice’ in his usual day but he had to persist, usually alone to achieve the desired outcomes. Maybe this was why they had sent the young woman?
Waiting for the crucial first impression reply, he took a folded pair of sunglasses out of his front handkerchief pocket and held them tightly in his free palm.
*From the leather backed armchair by the shop front window, he held his folder tabloid newspaper closed in one hand and gazed at the blissfully unaware muggles hurrying about their business on the pavement outside. They had no idea that he was out of the ordinary, they ignored him like they ignored any other stranger on the streets of Oxford Street. Such mindless fools they were...
Reaching out for his cooling grande cappuccino in its chunky white ceramic mug with the coffee shop insignia blazoned in green on the side, the smartly dressed middle aged man glanced at his watch on his wrist. It was nearly time for him to attend work for the day but this wasn’t just any ordinary work and one that certainly didn’t require a briefcase, just the dragon heartstring cored oak wand that was nestled safety inside his jacket was required.
*"How many times do I have to go OVER this, Wilson?!" A middle aged wizard shouted at a trembling witch, not much older than 20. "NEVER make a mistake! That slip up with the Kings almost got us killed!" he scolded. "It was a miricle that the Aurors didn't catch us as it was, without you dropping your wand in the middle of a spell! Why do I put up with you idiots?!" And with that, the wizard stormed out of the house and disapparated to his own home. Clarke Wilson scowled at the empty air and slumped to the table, banging her head against the hard surface.
"As if I need him having a go at me... I need to go see /him/ next aswell... It wasn't MY fault Audrey King grabbed my leg and bit me. Stupid wizard..." she cursed as she got to her feet, grabbing her wand, and disapparated to the toilets in a muggle coffee shop. She walked through the doors and saw the man she was supposed to meet. She approached him casually.
*Downing the last of his milky, average tasting coffee, the man sat by the window licked his bottom lip instinctively to remove any last frothy remnants as he placed the cup back down on the table.
Tucking the folded newspaper under his right arm, he noticed the young woman approach his location and he stood to greet her. Noticing her soft, delicate complexion he stereotypically presumed her magical ability by her youthful age and smiled, intrigued in wonder as to how he had suddenly been demoted to ‘babysitter’.
Taking a second look at his leather strapped watch; he observed the minute hand just ticking over onto the third tiny marker past the eleven.
“Early? That makes a surprise..At least both of us will start the morning off on the right foot” he spoke, clearly referring to his ritual daily brew. He came to the same coffee shop every weekday morning at exactly the same time without fail. The staff always remembered how he liked his beverage but never prodded with cheesy greeting questions into his business.
He liked that about this quaint place really, a simple reply of “the usual, I’m fine” was enough to satisfy the baristas enquiry to which they’d always reply ‘Have a nice day’.
There wasn’t much to be said for ‘nice’ in his usual day but he had to persist, usually alone to achieve the desired outcomes. Maybe this was why they had sent the young woman?
Waiting for the crucial first impression reply, he took a folded pair of sunglasses out of his front handkerchief pocket and held them tightly in his free palm.
Jumping back in... Shall I post a bio for Clarke in the bios thread??))
Sorry for not posting something in ages...I'll try to get something going. Did everything get moved forward a bit? I can't remember if it was.)
noo.... That's mean when it does that.
