(1938-12-26) A Quick Word of Advice
Details for A Quick Word of Advice
Summary: Angus is looking for a new broom - But maybe all he needs is to look at his old one in a new light. Jocunda, a leading voice of the 'A good broom doesn't make a good player' movement is on hand to advise.
Date: 1938-12-26
Location: Quidditch Shoppe - Diagon Alley

Angus is in the Quidditch shop in Diagon alley. He's one of the small boys wandering around, but unlike the others, firstly he has a thick Scots accent, and secondly he's asking not about speeds, but about 'Speed in dive with a 6 stone boy on it, diving at a 60 degree angle', and about weights and balance points of beaters clubs..

Jocunda is at the Quidditch Shop because — are you kidding? She's Jo Sykes! Where else would she be? The discussions between the other children and teenagers in the shop burble with her name, her feats, some of her teammates and the rumours that abound about a potential love triangle with her, Duncan and Linc - Which is weird, considering they haven't been seen in public together since October. But such is the media. Still, she manages to overhear a question asked to a somewhat feckless shop assistant, and leans over to comment. "I thought Hogwarts still used the Silver Arrow?" Her voice smooth. Sweet.


Angus looks around, and his eyes widen, "Jings! Are ye no Jo Sykes? Y'are, are you no?" Then he remembers the context, and says in far less accented tones, "Can ah have your awtograph, Miss Sykes?" He digs in his pockets and produces a quidditch card. Then he adds, "Aye. Ah've got an Arrow, but Ah'm thinking if Ah'm taking this seriouslike, Ah should pick the best broom and stick for me, not the best average one, aye?"

Jocunda chuckles softly. It's a wonderful accent. Her quill is in her hand within a half moment, the oversized tip makes it ideal for signing the cards - Especially with a flourish. "I could have sworn I didn't cross the Atlantic on a Cleansweep, although it would have been a faster journey. Sometimes, comfort is worth more than you'd gain in speed or manoveurability." She hands it back over, with her name on the front now. "A good broom is far more than the name on the handle, or how fast they say it corners. A good broom is based on how it performs with /you/ on it." So sayeth the lady of the Oakshaft.

Angus nods enthusiastically, "Aye! That's what Ah'm sayin, but these scunners are sayin' 'You're thirteen sonnyboy, what do you know about flying?'." It's a reasonably good but exagerated version of a 'southern English posh' generic accent. He sniffs, "Oh, sorry, Miss. Angus MacMillan! House Gryffyndor." A small, and slightly sticky hand is shoved out your way. There are a LOT of very good confectioners on the alley, afterall.

"Well," Jocunda pauses, placing a hand on her hip and looking down at the boy. "Angus, why don't you tell them that Jocunda Sykes thinks that one determined Griffindor a Silver Arrow can outplay the hell out of a spoilt Ravenclaw on a Cleansweep?" Her smirk is glorious, in person, and she takes the hand (With some small relief that she's wearing her flying gloves), shaking it gently. "Although she'll always cheer on Slytherin." Her own house. Acourse.

Angus grins, "Ah've not made the first team yet! But won' be long! They say Ah'm pretty good as a beater!" He gives a grin, "So Ah'm deciding what to save up for!"

Jocunda grasps a Silver Arrow by the haft, testing it's wait, and remembering her own time, leaning to fly. The few occasions she had to borrow a broom from the school, anyway. It wouldn't have done for a Sykes to not have the best. "I'll have to see next time I'm at Hogwarts. I try to attend some of my Brother's games. And I'm not saying the Arrow is the best broom in the world. But find one you love, and stick with it. Could be a comet, a cleansweep, or the humble Oakshaft. The rider matters far more."

Angus nods, enthusiastically, "Aye. Ah'll try and borrow an' test fly a few next term. See what fits me well!" He grins, "Mah brother is gonnae be so jealous when Ah say Ah got tae meet ya."

"Well now, I'm around London unless I'm playing abroad or visiting friends. If he's curious enough, he could always wait until my next event and find me there." Jocunda returns it to the shelf. Memories are a wonderful thing. "MacMillans, hmn?"

Angus looks slightly shifty, "Aye. Dinnae say Douggie's tried tae pick ye up too?"

"Afraid not." Jocunda snickers softly, "Besides, I'm more the kind to be picking up, little one. I've never been much for being swept off my feet. Although I'm glad to see he has a track record."

Angus rolls his eyes upwards. At 13, clearly this is not something to be proud of. "Ach, away wi yus! Dinnae blieve a wurd he says, Miss Sykes, that's all Ah'm sayin'."

Jocunda finds the advice, the cander, wholly delightful. She's not worried about any MacMillan, no matter how devastatingly handsome or charming, "Probably better to trust no-one, to be perfectly honest. Everyone's got an agenda, even if it's just a simple one. Now, take care, Angus. And bear in mind that the skill of the player far outweighs the broom they use."

Angus nods, hanging on the words. Or Wurds. "Aye! Ah'll tell them that! And aye! Ah can send ye an owl with the dates the second teams are playing, if yus are up?"

"I'm sure my brother or sister would do me the kindness." Ria is known for sending letters. So many letters. Jocunda almost can't keep up with all of them. "For now though, I should probably be getting on." She smiles, offering a wave in parting.

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