| Details for So Unappreciated |
| Summary: | Everything here is a little unappreciated. Peyton's superior fashion sense, Jenny's surly mood, Duncan's..well, Duncan. |
| Date: | 1938-12-14 |
| Location: | Small Tailor Shop in Hogsmeade |
| Related: | — |
| Characters |
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Another visit to Hogsmeade. Duncan Potter spent a lot of his spare weekends from training or games here visiting.. someone. Who it was exactly he never disclosed to anyone who knew and/or asked. Which wasn't really anyone yet. Travelling to various locations 'just to party' were often a good enough excuse for him anyhow. Since he partied anyway.
This weekend wouldn't be any different. Simple buying the bar a round and then people repaying the favor for the rest of the night was often how it went. Sometimes he didn't even need to buy a round for the bar. Currently he wasn't drinking (openly), as he meandered about Hogsmeade this morning. Not too many people up and about, given the cold weather, and it's saturday. Who's up early on a saturday? Duncan. Duncan Potter is, and he's eyeing the front of the clothing store while he smokes a cigarette across the street from said storefront, wondering if he could easily describe someone's size without actually knowing what it was. So for now he just smokes, eyeballing the floating mannequins in the front sporting the latest winter fashions. Big ploofy coats and scarfs made of the softest magical animal hide (all things humanely done and they just get a trim, not skinned, brags a sign in the storefront). 'Shaved, not slayed' or something like that. It makes him snicker as he exhales that smokey breath and it mixed with his breath visible in the cold spew from his pursed mouth out and up and into the breeze to be carried in curving plumes around the building's roof in front of which he stands.
Jenny is, to be fair to everyone involved including herself, not a person who enjoys shopping unless it's in a Quidditch Supply Shop. She could care less for fashions, which might explain the trousers. But at least the company is good. Princess Peyton had more of a sense for it than Jenny did, though she'd taken Alphard's warning about her penchant for putting tiara's on things. There shall be no tiara's. There shall be nothing floral. Ruffles are permissable but only in moderation at the risk of life and limb.
So, there's the click of her boot heels and the rise of steam from both her breath and the cup of coffee being cradled like a lifeline in her palm. Honestly it is too damn early to be out and about, but since the little ones were going to be shuffled through the town, better to go early and avoid sticky fingers and a headache from all the little voices and it helped…that there were less people about. It helped a lot.
"So what are you and Goyle doing for the holidays?" Jenny asked, glancing side-long at Crabbe as the pair strolled down the street. She'd been meaning to get around to asking that. And the question still stood too, even when she caught sight of the smoker and the faintest of grins twisted across her lips.
This early on a Saturday, Peyton hadn't bothered dressing in anything out of the ordinary, perhaps intending to pick up something to wear later in the day during this trip out. Or perhaps even a later trip out - there's no rule that says one can only go on fashion forays once a day and Peyton is clearly the type to shop 'til she drops. Where Jenny clutched coffee, Peyton holds a literal list of things she means to pick up today, complete with photographs clipped from stylish wizarding magazines, the models twirling about and striking poses from their positions on the glossy slips of paper.
"Who said I was doing anything at all with Marcus over the holidays?" she sniffs, sounding cool enough, though that might not just be the cold reddening her cheeks. "He's been dreadful since that whole mistletoe disaster," she confides as they walk down the street, her eyes scanning the occasional shopfront window, though none of them seem to hold the fashionable bits she's looking for. "But it's looking like we'll probably wind up at a party or two together anyway." Spotting the smoker at the same times as Genevieve, she has no real cause to start smiling, instead giving the older girl a somewhat curious look. "Should I be worried?"
Duncan hadn't yet noticed the girls. He was lifting his hand up to his mouth to take another drag when he breaks from staring at that clothing store before he sees them. Noticing two, is cause for concern for him to not smile. But, as they get closer, he does in fact smile. "Good morning, ladies." He was a kind fellow. Tilting his head downward in greeting to them as they get closer. He turns to face them, the shifting of his feet as he lifts them and puts them back down makes the snow crunch under his boots. "How are you this rather chilly morning?" His nose and ears were a little red, definately from the cold though, and no other reason.
"So the pair of you are leaving Hogwarts for the holidays." Because they were a pair in her head. It fit. And it fit whether or not they'd realized it. Jenny, for her part, was really trying to do her very best not to pay attention to the List in Peyton's hand because doing so would force her to consider how much time this particular outing was going to eat and further, she might die. Admitting that she wanted to go and more, needed a smidge of help had honestly, well, she'd rather be smacked in the face with one of Alphard's bludgers again.
"G'morning, Potter. Fancy running into you here, at Hogsmeade of all places." But the chit had a warm twinkle in her eyes regardless. "Perhaps you can…come with us? Crabbe here is going to help me with a little shopping but she's got a List. Another male prospective might help me keep my sanity." Another? What? She's got a male mind, when it comes to shopping.
Peyton hooks her arm into Jenny's as they approach the handsome stranger - perhaps a show of solidarity, pr more likely to keep the Sixth year from bolting altogether, abandoning the shopping expedition. "Introduce me to your friend, Jenny," she nudges the other girl, her bright blue eyes studying the handsome older guy, even as Jenny keeps up the talk of she and Goyle being 'a pair'. "I wasn't going to leave," she asides. "But my house is apparently going to be empty for a few days while the 'rents make the social circuit. So maybe I'll throw a party or something, I haven't been invited to any yet," she says with a dramatic sigh. "Not that something that inconsequential will keep me from crashing, of course."
She nods as Jenny invites Duncan along on their shopping trip. "I see our first stop," she says, nodding toward the shopfront across the street. "If you grab her legs and I get her arms, we might be able to wrestle her inside, between the two of us," she laughs, all in good humor.
Duncan smiles looking at the two girls arm in arm getting closer, and he walks out into the street, towards the so-called 'Force Jenny into here because she doesn't want to go willingly' shop. "Ah, nonsense. She likes shopping just as much as the next guy." And, he being the next guy, makes a smile looking at the list. He slows getting towards the shop, "Well, y'know, look at the time, I have to go take care of… something, somewhere."
Was he trying to get awa?! Oh hell no! Seize him!
And at this point he's turning to try and face up the street to walk back to the Three Broomsticks. This is his chance to get out of shopping! But it would take him right by the girls, and more specifically, Genevieve to get past them and back towards that thing.. in that place.. that was so important.
"Why says he's my friend?" Jenny inquires, turning dark eyes in Duncan's direction with a cajoiling little halfsmile flirting at the corner of her lips. But she is teasing, apparently as is made apparent by the, "Mister Potter, may I intrude Princess Crabby. Princess Crabby, this is Potter." Just Potter, as if she'd forgotten his name or something.
Though there was a half glimmer of hurt in her eyes, when he made mention of bailing and more, tried to escape. For a moment, it looked like she might just let him go too, until the little chaser's arm snaked out to attempt to snag his wrist, in passing.
"You should stay, she suggests. Rumor has it I'll be purchasing a dress and a skirt." Though Jenny could remember the very last time she wore one, too. It had been over six months ago. At least, a skirt that wasn't part of her uniform.
"As for parties," she mentioned to Peyton, "Sy and I were thinking of arranging a little something and I was going to see if you and Goyle wanted to turn up."
Peyton watches as Jenny tries to stop 'Mister Potter', her expression wholly bemused. "Why does it seem like everyone is anti-shopping these days? You'd think you were all house elves, the way you avoid clothes." She curtsies, a bit sardonically, when introduced as Princess Crabby. "It's actually Peyton," she informs him. "And contrary to popular belief, I don't actually mind being called Princess one bit," she adds smugly. "How do you do?" She offers a hand, despite his currently being wrangled by their mutual friend. "Is my invitation contingent on showing up with Goyle?" she asks . "Because we're not done shopping yet, and I could very easily add a bit more floral print to this list," she threatens ever so mildly.
Duncan bows at the waist generously to Peyton. "Good morning." He had already been stopped by Jenny and her arm snaking out and the introduction that he was going to be a part of whether he liked it or not. Skirt… oh dear.
"Well, maybe they'll have a blindfold for me, too." Too?
A hint of a smile on his face saying that before he reaches to open the door for them to enter, getting himself out of Jenny's grasp. "I play Quidditch. I'm the beater on the Appelby Arrows. And yourself? What are your favorite studies?" Starting conversation with Peyton, trying to leave Jen out of it. Let her suffer with shopping. He'll at least enjoy himself if he can't skeedaddle.
Coffee. Jenny choked on coffee. Sputtering, Duncan free of her grip, choked. Boy that wind was really picking up, wasn't it? Leaving her cheeks a rosey shade of pink. "I don't avoid clothes, I wear them. I just avoid the purchasing of them whenever I can help because I don't find much fun about taking things on and off, on and off, trying to find the one that fits. And no, your invitation isn't contingent upon your showing up with Goyle, I was going to invite him regardless." Grin. Where, she was inviting people has yet to be settled. She'll likely acquire a space.
But, no fear on leaving her out of the new conversation. Neatly managed, Jenny finished off the last of her coffee and then found a place to discard the cup, before having to enter.
Peyton's appreciation for the gallant bow is plainly evident, and she tells Jenny, "This is what we need more of." She sweeps into the shop then as the door is opened, her eyes sweeping the racks and shelves appraisingly. Her bearing is enough to get the shopkeep's attention, and she presents her list. "I'll be needing these particular patterns, and these particular hues," she says, pointing out things on the list and in the pictures that only a dedicated fashionista or a tailor would properly pick up on. "Also, this with a bit of that," more pointing ensues. "And these, but without this bit, and trim off some of that, and for goodness' sake get rid of that piece entirely, this isn't 1937."
She looks back to the other pair with a bright, vibrant smile. "Let's get her over to the fitting area," she suggests. The fitting area which is well away from any exits, conveniently. "And don't wriggle while your measurements are being taken, I have to remind my brothers of that very thing and something tells me I'll get a bit further in life if I use the same tactics on you that work on them," she tells Jenny with a fond impatience.
Duncan wasn't scared of shopping. He just.. usually knew exactly what he wanted and a lot of this things came from the same… pallate? That was the word that fashion person used at him about darker colors, mottlings of red and maroon, but not together! Oi.
Jen choking on her coffee got a look from him, "Oh, don't die over there." And the young fashionista starts talking with the person behind the counter, he dutifully goes to the area she mentioned, and found one of the comfy chairs that was there for people to wait. He'd watch the ensuing madhouse as Jen would be trying things on to Peytons whim.
God lord, was that…that wasn't..what? "No. No this isn't what I had in mind. Merlin's balls, I'm not trying things on. I just, need a dress that's decent, something off the shelf is more than fine I absolutely refuse to pay to have something tailored to me. I really hope the bulk of that was for you." The changing undercurrent of Jenny's mood was sublte, but decidedly present. As was the, very next, ought to be expected statement.
"I'm getting a headache and I'm relatively sure that I could use a drink and the quicker one is produced the better off everyone else will be. This was stupid, I've changed my mind. What I have will be more than fine!"
Scraaaaaaape, THUD.
A flick of the wand, and a heavy chair slides in front of the door to the shop. "You don't mind, do you?" Peyton asks the proprieter, who has arrived from the back with a heaping armful of fabrics. Shaking her head, the quick-moving little old lady, quite fashionable herself it migth be said, in her pencil skirt and glossy heels, ushers Jenny toward the measurement area, brooking very little in the way of argument. "Money is for spending. And besides, you don't find quality on a rack." This from Peyton. "So just put your arms out like a good little girl and this will all be over soon." She watches with lowered brows, lest her Housemate try anything tricky, but she does glance toward Duncan. "The Arrows; Jenny mentioned them. I suppose you all must be quite good? I've never really gotten into the sport, but Goyle is mad about it," she says idly, apparently not even realizing she's slipped him into conversation. "And I personally adore Charms, it just comes naturally to me, I suppose. You went to Hogwarts?" Her attention shifts back to Jenny for a moment. "Lift those arms higher, or everything will bunch at the shoulders," she says a bit bossily.
Yes. I would have been," he looks between Jenny and Peyton for a moment, "Probably a seventh year when you were a third. Maybe. Somewhere around there. Class of '36." Best beater Gryffindor's ever had, thankyouverymuch. Or at least how Duncan thought of it.
A look to what Jenny would be dealing with, and he holds a fist over his mouth, coughing a little holding back a laugh. Hand down to the arm of the chair he was in, "C'mon, Jen, it can't be /that/ bad." Snickersnack.
One. Two. Three. A deep breath, a calming breath was taken during which time Jenny reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose. "When I asked for help, I meant in chosing something. Not, in being told what to do and what I would put on. I don't give a shit, if it's quality and I will spend my money as I damn well please, it's not all going to be wasted on clothes." So…the calming breath hadn't been entirely helpful.
"She's a fifth year," Jenny snapped at Duncan, who was not helping. He could be amused. Jenny looked a half step away from apparating herself out.
"I wanted a little advice with color, perhaps with fashion, not a fuss." Ah, and there was an echo of the tempermental scrapper that rocked the pitch. BREATHE.
Peyton watches Jenny's eruption begin with what starts as amazed amusement, and quickly turns into shock. "Calm down!" she entreats, waving off the tailor, who simply looks like these sorts of showdowns are part and parcel of her craft. "We'll do things your way - this time," she conceeds, apparently unwilling to see her own pretty little head turned into a bludger. "I just thought it might make a certain someone smile to see you take such a vested interest in one dress, at least." Again with the dramatics as she gives Genevieve a mournful look. "But fine, fine… off the rack it is. And we'll just have to hope fifty other girls aren't wearing the exact same thing." She hands over a slip of paper to the shopkeeper. "My measurements, dear. I'll take these two," more pointing. "In both these patterns here. And this one exactly as it is." Sending her off to do her work, she whirls back toward Jenny. "Cooled down yet, or are you going to shout at me some more?" she asks, every bit the kicked and abused puppy, save for the glimmer of amusement in her bright blue eyes.
"The fact that I am here, somewhere I clearly do not appreciate being is a vested interest," Jenny grumps, but at least the threat of her temper had left the girl's eyes. It'd left some color in her cheeks though and for a moment she had been wishing for a club but, that was neither here nor there. She'd been a spoiled child, though not in the typical manner and had a particularly interesting homelife. But she also reckoned that handling things with violence was equally fine, when necessity warrented.
"I'm sorry I almost yelled at you." Wait, you mean there was the potiental for it to be worse? "I just really dislike the whole..I just don't like it, okay." What she didn't like, was being girly. Not where people could see it. Because to her mind, it was akin to being vunerable and that was equally as bad. "At all." Which had Jenny cutting her eyes in Duncan's direction with a little more annoyance than was possibly required. "I'm not pretty like you, Pey. Doesn't matter how you dress it up, so I'd just rather not."
Peyton listens to Jenny's explaination with an understanding nod, though the look in her eyes shows more curiousity and concern than clarity. "You're quite pretty actually, and I don't really think you're blind since you play a sport. So either you already know this, or you've got deeper issues that retail therapy won't help - but whiskey might. So we may revisit this topic later in the evening." She moves to hook her arm with Jenny's then, reasserting her position as helpful companion and not beater practice-dummy. "We'll be back in a 'mo," she tells Duncan, leading the way toward the skirts section. "So, what do you have in mind?" she asks, browsing idly herself as she waits to see where Genevieve's attentions drift. "I don't think I've ever seen you outside of Hogwarts' black when it comes to skirts," she muses. "And I assume pink is right out?" she asks, a dash of hope in her tone nevertheless.
"I'd have had a drink but I seem to have left my flask at school, what with it being so early and just, issues." Like Silas calling her out on her drinking problem, perhaps. There was a boy who'd no issue spending galleons on clothing, given he'd spent several on the dragonhide riding pants he'd given her, padded specifically for quidditch. Along with matching gloves. There was fashion in her wardrobe! Either way, she loops arms with Pey and allows herself to be lead off; with but a glance over her shoulder as she went. "I was..," Jen glanced towards Peyton. "Well, I was thinking of something in black, yes. Pink is…permissible, but in moderation."
"A bit of sobriety won't kill you. It might even keep you from making questionable fashion decisions today," Peyton points out. "This one is cute," she says, pointing out a black, high-waisted pencil skirt with pink ribbon corset-lacing up the back. "A bit racy, and I never did ask what the occasion is that you're shopping for." She points out another black skirt then, chiffon ruffles in the same dark hue spilling down the left side and terminating in a flirtation swirl at the hemline. "Cheeky, this one. I could see someone finding quite a useful handhold, here," she teases.
"Mmmm," came the somewhat noncommittal sound in response to mentions of soberity. A smile that had a touch more teeth showing than general and then, even that had faded. "That's because I'm not entirely sure of the occasion. "The waist is too high on that one though. I'll look like I've got no torso at all, just leg if I wear it. Merlin knows I've enough leg as it is." The thing with the ruffles was… "That's not terrible." Jenny admits. "Though maybe that is too much black?" Blarg. "Though that..isn't half bad." Of cours, it was racy too. And it had lace. The short pencil skirt, had accents in green. It just happened to be cut out where it crawled up the outside of the left thigh, so that the gap showed green lace, to fill in the ivy cut-out design rather than simply leaving bare skin.
"Oh, I like that one," Peyton agrees, fingering the green lace delicately. "It's terribly short though, will you have the nerve t- wait, nevermind, I forgot who I was talking to. Ms. Fearless herself." She calls toward Duncan, "I think we've found our first possible entry, though I'm scared I'll get hexed across the room if I suggest she actually do anything so crazy as to, you know, try it on."
Duncan had spent the last several minutes absolutely quiet. He knew that quiet meant survival in some situations. Especially females 'talking'… 'loudly'.. about fashion, wants, not wants, and other things.
He could still hear them walking through the aisle as he sat in that comfy chair by the fashioning mirror area. It didn't take Peyton's overbearing comment's volume to reach him. THey were doing just fine without that. Quiet convulsions of the shoulders as he laughs to no end at what he hears of suggestions. His head peeks up from behind his hand, red-faced as all, and says, "Oh? Nah, I don't think she's the gall to try anything on today. Lest it be from the sections I patronize." Though, the word 'racy' did stick in his head, and he now sits there and entertains himself by pulling out his own flask (not even a flask, a flat-ish glass bottle filled with some liquer in it) up to his lips from an inside pocket of his jacket, restoppering it and returni- ok pulling it back up for another quick sip before.. taking a third and then wiping his mouth before recorking it and putting it back into his jacket. "You'd think she'd jump at the chance to impress a professional athlete in the house. But, it's her choice, all in all, isn't it, Miss Peyton?" Not 'Princess', but not just a name, either.
"Really?" Jenny sounded..mildly surprised at Peyton's agreement and looked at the other girl as if waiting for the other shoe to fall. The one that goes, 'I like it but…' and summarily lists all the issues as to why it's a terrible thing. So she looks a bit, shocked when it doesn't come, but the expression's one that slipped back to her general discontent when Potter opened his mouth.
"I tell you what, Potter, you were supposed to be the kind of quiet but reassuring help that made this less of one of those awkward experiences, but at the moment, honestly I'm a half step away from telling you just what you can do with your broom, regardless of whether or not you're a professional."
"Really," Peyton assures Jenny. "Don't look so shocked, if anyone should be surprised it's me - the last thing I expected you to point out was something with lace, I just knew you'd gravitate toward something… I don't know. Plaid." She smiles brightly enough, pointing out another skirt, this one sheer black silk with a dark green and mauve floral pattern on the underskirt. "This one is pretty too, if nowhere near as racy. It would help to know what we're shopping for, especially if you're only getting the one skirt."
Just as Duncan stayed out of the heated words about fashion, Peyton offers no suggestions on where anyone's broom might end up, though her cheeks redden just a bit. "Jenny," she eventually says with a hint of mediating calm in her tone. "Such creative…suggestion… is hardly fitting for public discourse. Now, why don't you try on the skirt? Personally, I still think it's a bit too short, but with legs as long as yours, I don't think anything but a floor-length gown would change that."
Duncan chuckles at her suggestion, "Sometimes it feels like it already has after a game." Not really a comeback, more of 'doesn't phase me'. Silk? Long legs? "Floorlength gown-" don't say too much. "-may be more to her liking though." Ok, at least he's being more supportive now. Though he wanted to say she'd look good in… well whatever, but he keeps his mouth shut. He snags himself another drink from that narrow glass bottle, and puts it back. He was getting a little impatient, or for some other reason his leg was bouncing on his toes. One little tic that he coulnd't hide very well about patience, but he was doing well today.
"I like plaid," Jenny replied, failing to understand what the problem with it was. "And that one..is pretty, but I think this one will do. Actually, I'm certain it will. Thank you for the help, Peyton." It doesn't seem like the girl is even going to try it on. Because when she plucked it from the rack, she seemed intent to start towards the counter.
"I can see you drinking over there, you know. There's a mirror in front of you. You're not hiding anything." Hmph. Mercy, why was she feeling so out of sorts and grouchy today? She hadn't started out grouchy!
"Some people have no appreciation for the art that is shopping," Peyton laments as Jenny heads toward the counter, all grumpiness. "I don't come to Quidditch games and start whinging that the Seeker still hasn't caught the snitch," she calls out, with what is probably the extent of her Quidditch knowledge. "But at least the skirt is pretty." She doesn't even attempt to tackle the raging debate that is plaid skirts, not today, and not with Potter playing defensive tackle on the anti-fashion team. She trails after Jenny toward the counter, where the shopkeeper is waiting with her completed order - so timely! "Nothing for you, Mister Potter?" she asks Duncan, counting out the substantial but hardly brow-raising cost for her own purchase. "Some frills perhaps? There's no one here to buy you surprise dragonhide pants," she says breezily, glancing toward nny with a sly smile - she's clearly heard the rumors. "But perhaps you might find something you like all the same."
Duncan coughs a little when he spies Jenny caught him in the mirror. Oi, such a putz. And with that, he stands up just as they are heading towards the counter. "No ma'am, I purchased my finery this past week. It's a… well it's interesting, to say the least. I find it a tad overdressing, but it will be substantial for what I require." He says with that almost trademarked smile of his.
He steps up behind the two girls at the counter, hands now shoved into his pockets as he waits. Oh, that chair is still at the door. He walks over to the front doors, pulling the chair from in front of them and off to the side with that same screeeeeech of wooden feet along the floor. "And, frills aren't my thing, quite certain."
"I do," Jenny replies, when Peyton starts talking about Quidditch. "But I bet you'll come to more games when Goyle tries out for the team, won't you?" It comes with a grin, as if she's managed to chase away a little of her mood. She lets Crabbe go first at the counter though, instead leaning back against Duncan as h stands there, at least, until he moves and threatens her balance.
Course, he's moved and there's her turn at the counter, which has her grudgling giving up the coin.