(1938-04-10) Not Too Old
Details for Not Too Old
Summary: Randy meets Laurence for the first time. Euphamisms, alcohol, talking about prospects and conquests, plus flirting abounds.
Date: Wed Apr 10, 1938
Location: Flights of Fancy

Flights of Fancy Broomshop, Diagon Alley

It is a spring day. The weather is warm and drizzling.

Stepping into a dream, the atmosphere in the room show room has polished white pine floors and soft creamy white carpets embroidered with exotic designs of gold, silver and black thread. when visitors look up, the ceiling has been bewitched to resemble the sky just above the clouds and there's a faint breeze in the room, cooler during the summer and warmer during the winter, adding to the fantasy of being up there amongst the clouds. Seats are provided around tables, each table about the length of a broomstick and the seats cushioned like lounge chairs with soft white upholstry and they match the two couches in the waiting area near the entrance of the shop. Daily periodicals and Quidditch magazines can be found and are easily accessible along with some thicker books about the history of Quidditch and other broom related topics. Exotic and fragrant teas are offered to customers as they browse or sit in consultations.

The backdrop for the front desk are all images of modern day Quidditch players who have agreed to try, use, and model certain broom models that were made for them or their teams. There are also large sketches and drawings of brooms and the like framed and placed within strategic view, displaying the artist's talent and appreciation for the crafts that are for sale. The front desk is made from the same polished white pine that the floor is, a sturdy flat surface long enough to rest several brooms upon and wide enough to service and examine things as needed.

The broom displays are the stars of the room however, sorted by function and price…there are racing brooms, brooms made for families, even brooms made for young children to name a few. Pre-Made brooms can be found on display in various points in the room but the majority of brooms that are on display are samples of the base designs that customized brooms can and will be made from based on customer need or demand. Moving pictures and posters are framed and placed strategically on the walls between, beside or above displays showing images of Quidditch players in history and other notable flyers. There are desk displays with little Quidditch accessories and Momentos, the occasional pairs of gloves or goggles for sale along with some sort of baked good…cake or pie, sometimes even tarts and the like under a glass cover for customer access.

This is the place where folks come to relax and look at long shafts of wood with bristles at the end. Well sculpted and sanded and polished shafts of wood. Laurence, can be found in his shop behind the front desk, sorting through stack of invoices and folding letters to slide into envelopes as he sorts through the business side of the broom business. A tiny turtledove hopping about and idly pecking at the glass over the coffee cake on the front desk.

It's afternoon and Randy's been lingering outside of the broomshop with an icecream cone that has been raging every color of the rainbow violently, window shopping as it were. After a chomp of the last bit of cone, which lets out a tiny scream, Randy heads into the shop, shoving her hands into her pockets. Her hair is pulled back into a messing pony tail. There isn't much trying going on there, and she's wearing some boys clothing that looks a little too big for her size, as well as somewhat worn out. The shirt sleeves come down to over her palms, for instance. For now, the young woman just seems to be browsing. She can go from the cheapest broom to the most expensive, if anyone were watching.

There's a soft cooing sound that chimes when the door opens and it causes the shop owner to lift his head. He wears a simple white button down shirt with his light grey trousers, sleeves rolled up to expose the tattoos up his forearms and he runs his fingers through his hair with a soft chuckle, getting to his feet and moving around the desk. "Hey…" He greets softly, voice wavering between a Britishy edge and the Scottish Burr he keeps hidden, there's a purr to it really. "…welcome to Flights of Fancy, where your flying fantasies are turned into realities…can I get you anything to drink? Even at the desk I could hear the brooms tittering about a handsome young woman dressing and undressing them with her eyes…"

Randy looks over to Laurence when she's addressed and a grin cracks open across her features. "Hi," her accent is Welsh with a spot of other influences. "/All/ of my flying fantasies?" with a quirked brow, eyes dancing with mischief. She steps towards him. "Oh, well, what do you have?" As to Laurence's final comments, she quirks her head to the side and smirks. "Yes, well, they'd be hiding if they knew what was coming next."

"…well there's only so much room on a broom…trust me I know but I spent a bit of time in India and there's this book that really shows you some creative positioning…if you don't mind all the blood rushing to…" Laurence trails off and just laughs and shakes his head, offering a hand. "For you? Well…there's a bottle of scotch I was saving but if I was responsible I'd offer you tea or hot chocolate." He winks and shakes his head, gesturing towards the couches. "Aren't you a delight, now have a seat and stop stealing my broom's virginity with your eyes…I'll get you a drink."

"You'll have to lend it to me sometime," Randy says with a bit of a chuckle. She takes Laurence's hand with a bit of fanfare, stepping closer as if a maiden stepping up for a dance. "I don't care where the blood rushes, as long as it ends up in the right place," she says with a wink. "It's okay, I can be the irresponsible one and drink it behind your back." She gives a squeeze of his hand before strolling over to take a seat. "It's what I do!" she sing-songs. "I like it neat!"

There's a soft snort as Laurence gives a little bow to Randy, straightening up. "Or I can share a glass with you before switching to tea and we can couch it with judicious use of coffee cake. A cute little witch from down the alley…" A wistful smile before he coughs and straightens his collar. "She gives good sweets…well bakes good sweets." A pause. "Going to get the scotch." He snickers and heads towards the backroom, returning after a while with the glasses of scotch poured on a silver tray that has a couple of saucers on it and he sets it down near the couch. "Then we'll talk about what's brought a strapping wee lassie like yourself to my shop."

"Hmm…yep! Sounds brill," as in brilliant. Randy smirks a little to herself at the comment about a cute little witch. "What's her name?" Nope, Randy has no boundaries whatsoever. "Maybe I can get her to bake me some cakes." Randy pushes back into the couch and watches Laurence leave. All this flirting has her in a /mood/. She drapes her arms over the back of the couch while she waits. "I can't imagine anything but brooms bringing me here…well, maybe not just brooms." She'll push her luck, her smile now more a permanent fixture.

"She may be about…20 or so years too old for you, but she may have a younger sister." Laurence drawls before thumbing the side of his nose and moving to uncover the coffee cake, bringing it over as well. Then he's quiet, regarding the young woman with those freakishly ice blue eyes as he chuckles lowly and sets the cake down before picking up a glass and offering it to Randy. "Aww, don't tell me I already have a stalker? And here I was trying to lull you into a false sense of security to find out how to eliminate potential competition…" He reaches towards the glass he offered to Randy. "Let me see that back…its tea for you…"

"20?" Randy looks upwards as if mulling over the age difference. "That's not too old," as if to say, I'd do her. "As long as she's cute." Her smile softens a bit in the silence. The gaze doesn't seem to unnerve her. She's one of those odd people who make themselves at home. She leans to reach out at grabs the glass to take a sip. "Don't worry about it. I don't want to waste too much of your charm, coffee cake, or your time. I just came to look. I couldn't get anything I wanted anyways, but it's always nice to look." Yes, to /look/. She tries to hold the glass out of Laurence's reach. "Noooo." It's like a baby Macmillan getting their rummed up bottle taken away. "I'm not that bad."

"Mmm, yes…I'd dare say a woman of class and taste." Laurence gives a long suffering sigh as he can't retreive The Liquor from his guest, a faint smirk betraying his lack of really caring and just being amused. He takes a sip of his own drink before shifting to lay an arm along the back of the couch, eyebrow quirking. "Wee one…what's the fun in looking if you haven't the balls to at least touch? It may not end up belonging to you but that's why we have fantasies. And hands. And the occasional Turkish prosti-secutor." He coughs and shakes his head. "I had a bottle of whiskey before you came in, if Hogwarts asks…I taught you right from wrong and how to wear those godawful ties without looking like a doofus."

Randy feigns victory over the opposition and shifts so that she can naturally see Laurence better, pulling one of her knees up on the couch, but careful to have her boot not touch it. Casual, yet respectful. "There isn't any fun in it. It's allll in the fantasy." At the comment about the Turkish something or other, Randy lets out a guffaw, "Oh I think one of my brothers ran into one of those," her eyes sparkling with knowledge beyond the fruit of good and evil. "Righto. But I'm pretty sure I've always looked quite dashing in my school tie." She steals another sip of her scotch and simply considers this fascinating stranger she's met. Then she offers out her hand, "Name's Randy Macmillan. I like you." Simply put.

"Well go a few years with just fantasy and you're liable to sprain something…" Laurence takes a sip of his drink before lowering it, idly tapping a finger against the glass. "It was probably the same one, she had a thing for bells…and then my fiance at the time had always wanted to try something new…then her cousin as also curious and brought her shopkeeping partner and well they say three's company and four's a crowd but…five is just a really really…really good Friday night…" He scoots forward on the couch to set his glass down and gets to work on cutting the coffee cup. "I'm sure you do…Randy Macmillan is it? Well good news! I'm not chucking you out. You're a good kid, you like scotch…and you're here. Nobody ever comes here by accident." A wry grin. "I'm Laurence Toulson…Master Broommaker and all that rot."

Laurence might also notice that Randy has taken her scotch 'like a man' so to speak, which is to say, unwatered down and without a single flinch. As to Laurence's thoughts about company, she simply posits with a gesture of her glass, "Yes, but you can always break up four into two and two, and five. Yeah, I can't argue with you there. That sounds about right," she says without batting an eyelash. "As for fantasy, I have one right now. Can't wait to make her a reality," then her eyelashes flutter a little bit, a tell in a way, she didn't mean to let that slip. She steals another sip of her scotch more purposefully. "Thanks. I appreciate it. Otherwise I'd never set foot in here, and this is too much fun to leave." She lets her gaze travel around the shop. "So where do you get all the wood?"

A plate of coffee cake is offered to Randy, along with the fork as Laurence responds. "With five, the other pair off into two and two…." He is not going to continue this! He just reaches for his drink to take another sip. "Its my job to make fantasies reality. You also said 'her' so now I'm all giddy with giggly glee to ask 'what's she liiiiiiike' - however then I'd have to Obliviate myself and pretend I never said that. So, I'll say I'm sure she's a real nice girl…" Then he has to grin and let his eyebrows raise. "All over the world really, it just get shipped here or other places where I go and pick it up." A wave of a hand. "What house are you in Randy?"

"The last one watches," Randy points out taking the coffee cake with ease, "And still has fun…unless there's a doubleteaming," oh the Macmillan mind at work. Leave it to Randy to figure out the puzzle. She chuckles, feeling like she's gotten Laurence's goat a little bit. As to Laurence's comments about 'her,' Randy just smiles, albeit a bit bashfully. "She is," she concedes. "Wow….Oh, yeah, I'm in Gryffindor. Most of my family is so I guess it wasn't a big surprise. What house were you in?" Her gaze travels the room back to those crazy blue eyes before she takes a bite of her cake.

"…you've a bright future ahead of you, very bright. And full." Laurence takes another sip of his drink before smiling softly at the reaction about the 'she'. Then he's nodding slowly and tsking. "Good house. Stamina…tenacity…the ability to see a goal and go for it. Just a pity…small pity you weren't sorted into Ravenclaw. Ravenclaw girls…well at least when I was in school, are still finding themselves. Lots of…snogging and experimentation and because they are all geniuses ever so innovative…" He closes his eyes for a moment and then takes a sip of his drink. "Aye, Ravenclaw here."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License