| A Matter of Hats, Crystals and Facts | |
|---|---|
| IC Date | 06 09 1935 |
| OOC Date | 07 22 2011 |
| Location | Hogsmeade — West High Street |
| Cast | Michael Klio Constance |
| Description | Constance avoids a shopkeeper's wrath. Responsible adults and troublesome teenagers engage in polite (and dubious) conversation. |
A summer stroll. In concept, something desirable. Late afternoon, however, typical English weather strikes. Grey, not a breeze to be had, and damp.. still, however, there's a bright spot in all of this. A couple walks, arm in arm, taking the streets, watching the students. The term is almost over, and it's the last hurrah before students go home; each to almost every corner of the United Kingdom, and in some cases, beyond.
Dr. Albert Michael Thompson has been invited for graduation, and while not a speaker, his presence is requested as honoured guest as he does manage to lecture some of the classes. Now, there's a little more that weighs on his mind, in both worlds, but the cloud is easily dispelled by the presence of the lady, whom he courts now. Travel to Scotland, while scandalous to some, is something a bit more commonplace when it comes to the wizarding world— but that's not to say that provisions haven't been made for the lady's honour.
Clumps of students wander the streets, some dashing in to one store, another into yet a different store. Money saved up from allowances, money sent specifically for shopping for next term..
As groups move in, yet others come out with their new purchase— wands, clothing.. bags of sweets..
Klio has one arm wrapped around her handsome escort's elbow. Her other hand holding up a lolli that changes colors every time it's pulled out of her mouth, that's spread is a lovely smile. She seems to be continuing a story. "So very shy like this starchy man tries with all of his might to hide the book and the title that's on the card…"
"You /would/ think the weather could oblige for just today, don't you? Bloomin' Scotland." A teenage girl's voice - absolutely oozing 'posh' - rings out as she and a pack of her fellows emerge from down Lovage Lane. "I simply cannot /wait/ for Cannes."
"I still can't believe you're going to /France/ for a whole month," replies one of her friends, in tones of friendly envy. "The best I'll get is Bath." Another girl adds, cheerfully, "Bring us back gifts or we'll clobber you, Connie. You can get me a hat to make up for setting my best one on fire. A /nice/ one. Fine French couture!" A third butts in with, "Speaking of hats - want to stop at Gladrags, girls?"
The other girls ascent, cheerfully, save Constance. "Oh, no thanks - I'll wait out here. After last time…" 'Last time', whatever it is, brings forth giggles and understanding nods from the group, the burnt-hat girl calling, "Stay here and amuse the passersby with The Internationale, then!" before she and her cronies disappear within the shop. Connie, grinning, leans lightly against the building, hands in her pockets as she people-watches, i.e. stares unabashedly (and doubtless eavesdrops as well) at the passing Michael and Klio.
Michael lends his ear to the story, even as his gaze moves past the clumps of soon-to-be-released students. Easy to guess their years, physical characteristics not-withstanding. The younger years, like sticks with like.. gaggles of girls, hordes of boys.. and it's only in the later years, usually, that they begin to mix.
He smiles, ducks his head to push on his wire-frames, a warm chuckle sounding soon after, "I couldn't even begin to guess," is given on the off-chance that he's going to be put to the test.
"Something that seems.. less of a man of his appearance, I'm sure." The laugh remains behind in his tones. His stroll continues, slow and steady; in no rush at the moment.
Catching snippets about far-flung trips, as the pair begin to approach, Michael doesn't necessarily recognize the student, but it doesn't much matter. He addresses the youth anyway, amusement still playing in blue eyes from his conversation with the lady upon his arm, "Not going in, then?" He didn't catch the 'last time' comment, or perhaps he would have asked? Brows rise as he considers briefly, "Look out?" Never know what the students are capable of— no, strike that.. he does know.
Klio laughs cordially but once spotting the girl when Michael addresses her she gives a smile and a nodding bow of the head in greeting before she leans closer to her suitor and lifts a hand to cup the side of her mouth and his ear and whisper to him, "100 Herbs of Love." The hand comes down and rests on his arm as well in a sort of polite chaste way of hugging the man's arm. Cordial and proper as always it's just another hand on his forearm, le gasp so scandalous! "I informed him that if love can be found in fateful moments of cars splashing mud on a lady. Then he doesn't need herbs and plants. We talked for a little while and he went home without the book. So many people think my line of work has nothing to do with people, I like to prove them wrong you know?" But then He's further addressing the girl and she quiets to let the interrogation begin.
"Good afternoon, sir, ma'am!" There are many youngsters who retreat in the face of striking up conversation with unfamiliar adults, especially ones they've just been staring at: this one, however, meets Michael's gaze unflinchingly, straightening her posture, taking her hands out of her pockets, and nodding courteously at the pair. "And - hm? Oh, no, not at all." Constance waves a hand dismissively at the idea, "I'm almost never the lookout. I'm just, well, not /banned/, you see, but I'd rather not remind the good proprietor of my existence right now." She adds, in tones of mystery: "Not after last week." Cheerfully the teenager continues, "Were you two planning on going in, then? They've got some really smashing hats in, for such a small shop. There's one that looks like a Pomeranian curled up and died on it, it's a scream."
The whispered title causes Michael to sputter a little; he knows what's in that book and some of the concoctions it offers to the diligent creator. He glances back to Klio, his brows raised in question, the word really not really necessary. Resting a hand upon Klio's own, there's no doubt that his company is mostly to blame for his good humour. His voice is low in quick response, "Mud and beggars," he reminds. The day is etched into his memory now..
Michael's attention comes fully upon the youth, his head nodding slowly in the response. "Almost never, hmm?" A glance is given towards the store, past the closed door, imagining that Pomeranian.. and shakes his head before he straightens.
"And your friends won't jog the memory?"
Exhaling softly, none of his mood has shifted, even at the news of a potential.. minor wrong having been done a week prior. "Did you animate the hat?"
Klio gives the girl a bit of an apologetic look, her Michael can get… focused. "Darling are you going to stop grilling the girl long enough to make introductions?" She hugs Michaels arm more to try and pull him back into their little flitterpated bubble. "It's a beautiful day, I'm sure you're excited the summer is coming?" The librarian changes the subject like a gently flipping of the pages of one of her cherished tomes, smoothly and gently.
"They weren't there," Constance explains. "And I wouldn't damage someone else's goods, if that's what you're worryin' about, sir." She adds, with the lazy satisfaction of someone who enjoys what they're saying: "Although our immature capitalist notions of personal property are the root of half the world's problems, naturally." Notice that she has continued to refrain from explaining what exactly it was that she /did/ do. Klio's intervention makes Connie smile with ill-concealed gratitude. "Yes, very, ma'am. I do like Hogwarts, but it'll be nice to be done with exams." As an afterthought, she gestures to herself. "Constance Marchbanks. Gryffindor Third Year. Charmed to meet you, I'm sure."
"Naturally.."
Okay, Michael didn't expect that to come from the girl's mouth, certainly, and he's caught a little aback.
It's Klio to the rescue, as usual (as far as he's concerned), and he allows for the gentle tug to bring him back. He looks back to the lady on his arm, using the other to push errant glasses back into place before offering something of an apologetic smile. "Of course.."
Klio's question regarding classes and the promise of term break for the summer gives Michael that chance to catch the response.. and he nods. Perhaps the librarian would be better at this than he.. but..
Armed with the youth's name, he can do this properly, or properly enough.. "Miss Marchbanks, this is Miss Klio Kreirwy, a librarian in London's library. Miss Kreirwy, Miss Constance Marchbanks." With a gleam in blue eyes, he continues, his tones set in proper English etiquette.. as if introductions are being made at a formal affair, "Third year of the House Gryffindor."
Leaning slightly, his voice lowers, "And I'm Dr. Thompson.. probably haven't had me for class yet.. that'll come next term, I think."
Straightening once again, his words are less interrogation and more conversation. He has noticed that the crime of which she's guilty hasn't, as of yet, been confessed. "Third year.. exams looking promising?"
"Oh, they're going well enough," Constance says, affably. "I've got a real scorcher prepared for Divination." She listens politely through the introductions, nodding and smiling at the appropriate moments - someone's obviously taught the girl manners at some point. "How do you do?" the student says, once he's finished. Klio is shot a friendly look and a brief, "That must be interesting, Miss Kreirwy! I don't s'pose you'd know if the newest Dorothy Charmsthrop -" a writer of especially lurid Wizard mystery novels "- is there? I've been absolutely dying to read it, but they don't carry those at Hogwarts and none of the shops here have it yet, more's the pity." Only then does Constance return her frank gaze to Michael. "Dr. Thompson? Well, I'm sure I've /heard/ of you. You'll be lecturing a few times in Fourth Year's Charms, I believe?"
Even if Michael is courting a librarian, he's not completely up on current literature, and doesn't catch the author's significance, if there's any. Obviously a leisure author, and there is simply so very little time.
That's Klio's area of expertise, and certainly one that he knows little about; other than to hear of her daily trials upon returning home and he calls upon her.
What he can speak on, of course, comes just after. Shifting his weight, and a soft squeeze given to the hand that holds his elbow, he nods his acknowledgment, "Yes. Once in imbuing qualities into a crystalline form, and once in identifying the perfect form and structure to enhance the given charm.. using its physical make-up to give something of an added benefit." A scholar, Michael could truly go on for quite some time on those two topics alone. "Those two in particular, I've received some postive responses."
"Well I'm sure that while our new friend could stand here and hang on your every word darling. I'm feeling awfully parched my self." She smiles to Constance. "We were on our way to Madam Puddlefoots. I've heard that her scones are dreamy, and completely Love Potion free after what happened last year. Riot of Broken Hearts, dreadful." She then hhmmms and looks to the girl and then more longly at her suitor. "Neither of your happened to be at the tea shops opening debacle hmm?" Klio's just realized that last year Valentine's day was before she and he became re-acquainted and thusly maybe had been here on a lecture and enjoyed the Tea Shop opening where some Ex of the proprietor seeking to make her fail in the opening dosed her batch of tea and scones with powerful love potion and the whole crowd turned into a snogging frenzy. So her escort locked lipped with some strange woman over a scones plate has her arching a brow at him in curiosity.
"Ah. Well, no doubt it'll be a real eye-popper," Constance tells Michael. Her tone is the kind of scrupulously polite that gives away little about her actual opinion on the matter. "By 'crystalline form' do you mean gemstones and so on? Like the rather jolly little bits of quartz they've got at Dervish & Bangs, wouldn't even spot 'em if you put 'em in gravel or a thick rug, but they make a really /satisfying/ bang if you step on them. Nearly scared me out of my wits when one of the lads planted a few in the common room carpet." To Klio: "Sorry - wasn't allowed out on Hogsmeade weekends yet when that happened. I did /hear/ about it, though. It sounded magnificent." Her frank gaze turns to the librarian, obviously sensing AWESOME DETAILS that have not been shared here. "But - oh, don't let me keep you, if you were on your way."
"That'd be the case, yes.. gemstones, crystals.. really, almost any sort of igneous rock would do.." Michael pauses, then nods, "Yes, just like. Only, these'd—"
Saved by Klio, as he could go into some serious depth as to what they'd be useful for.. or perhaps he was going to impart something that would have given her a slight advantage coming in to the new term in late August?
Still, Michael backs away from it, and catching the lack of response to the author, curiousity is piqued. That is, until a somewhat.. unfortunate incident is recounted.
Raising a free hand to cough, or clear his throat, Michael doesn't give immediate answer to the stroll down memory lane. He requires a moment of composure, and a slightly lopsided smile emerges. "I.. heard of the occurrence, yes. Of course.." Being with the Ministry.. and he can always hope that it's enough of a response.
"Shall I find a place where we can get something to drink, then?" Michael looks at Constance, a farewell glance, but he does add, "A pleasure, Miss Marchbanks. Good luck on your Divination exam.."
Klio can read Michael like one of her beloved books, and yes in front of their new acquaintance the subject is stored away later in the dewey decimal system that is her mind, to retrieve and go into at length in a more private setting. "It was lovely to get to know you Constance. Good luck with your finals. And if this one here ever grills you again, you remind him for me that he's not in the M.L.E." Klio gives a smile that has a wink inside of it, even if her eyelashes are too proper for such a base expression as a wink. "I over heard France being mentioned I must admit, if you are going, bon voyage, if you aren't going, stop by the library this summer and I'll arrange for you a journey all your girlfriends will be green with envy over." Lifting one hand to give a parting wave to the girl she veers with Michael towards the Tea Shop, her voice lowering as she playfully barbs him with. "Yes darling find us a place. I'm sure you remember the lay out of the shop…that is if your memory isn't too foggy after the potion effects were removed."
"Have a good day, Dr. Thompson, Miss Kreirwy. I'm sure I'll see you next semester, sir. And - " Klio's advice earns her an amused look, "- perhaps I'll see you after I get back, ma'am." Constance bobs her head in a polite farewell, and begins to resettle against her wall, hands resuming their earlier position in her pockets.
As if on cue, the prior pack of Gryffindor girls emerge from the shop just as Michael and Klio are starting to step away. "Connie, Connie!" chirps one, excitedly. "I know you don't want to come in here, but you've /got/ to see this!" Another plunks her unfashionably wide-brimmed hat down on down on Connie's fashionable little brown confection. "Here, take /my/ hat, it'll cover your face of shame. Now /come/." Multiple hands all but yank the student into the shop, where - no doubt - things responsible adults are better off not knowing about are underway.