Post by James King. on Jul 24, 2010 22:21:25 GMT -5
James King had a great dislike of formal clothing. Well, that wasn’t strictly true. While formal robes weren’t that great he thought he cut a rather dashing figure in a suit if he did say so himself. That was something muggles did rather well. Wizards formal robes looked crazy, overlarge cuffs, bowties that looked like they’d been stolen from a Victorian armoire, strange frills and fabrics. They made the wearer look like a complete and utter prat. But it was his parents’ anniversary so he had to make an effort to look presentable, and if he turned up in a suit then his mother’s parents, as pureblooded a bunch as ever walked the earth, would quite likely have a fit, and another fight with them was even less desirable than turning up in front of all his relatives in what appeared to be a frilly maroon dressing gown.
Finally he bought the most palatable of the robes, which wasn’t saying a lot, it looked like a demented lethifold was attacking him when he put it on. Changing back into his own clothes, he decided that after his ordeal he needed something to cheer himself up. Thankfully the Leaky Cauldron was open and he intended to get a nice cold butterbeer to help himself forget the frustratingly annoying shopping trip. When he got to the pub it turned out to be surprisingly empty, the lunchtime rush having just ended. Exchanging a few coins for a frothing mug of the sweet tasting drink he found himself a table and set it down, before taking his seat and beginning to sip at it.
Glancing around, he didn’t see much of interest. There weren’t many people there. A couple of guys having a drink or two for their break, the bored looking barkeeper, and not a whole lot else. Unless someone interesting turned up, it looked like this was going to be a rather boring drink.
Finally he bought the most palatable of the robes, which wasn’t saying a lot, it looked like a demented lethifold was attacking him when he put it on. Changing back into his own clothes, he decided that after his ordeal he needed something to cheer himself up. Thankfully the Leaky Cauldron was open and he intended to get a nice cold butterbeer to help himself forget the frustratingly annoying shopping trip. When he got to the pub it turned out to be surprisingly empty, the lunchtime rush having just ended. Exchanging a few coins for a frothing mug of the sweet tasting drink he found himself a table and set it down, before taking his seat and beginning to sip at it.
Glancing around, he didn’t see much of interest. There weren’t many people there. A couple of guys having a drink or two for their break, the bored looking barkeeper, and not a whole lot else. Unless someone interesting turned up, it looked like this was going to be a rather boring drink.
