Frankie Markham (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} _markham) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} 20somethings, |
Having made it home from the Ministry with enough time to change out of robes and into a vaguely relevant t shirt with black ripped jeans, they had scarfed down some stir fry, magically done the washing up and run back out of the door. Metaphorically at least. They had at least been so worried about being late that they were still over ten minutes early when they apparated into Diagon Alley. Even a slow walk perusing the windows had only slowed them down a few minutes, since they'd been shopping recently and not much had changed.
Eventually they pushed open the door to Sweet Nothings, glad to find they were still serving drinks and acquired a mocha before sitting down. They felt like they would need the comfort of chocolate with their coffee if they were going to discuss this book. Dropping their copy of the book onto one of the tables they slouched down and glanced at their own chest. "Shit," they muttered, frowning. They had intended to stick a pronoun button on their top, but had apparently come out without it. And since they'd shoved all the stuff they needed in their pockets rather than bringing a bag of any kind they didn't even have a spare.