Who: Ella and Rabastan What: Ella can't find her pants, the vanilla vodka is open When: Wednesday; Late Afternoon Where: Rabastan's place Warnings: Lestranges come with their own warning
Ella had stopped after three glasses of chilled vanilla vodka. It was tasty, yes, but she had shite to do that involved being sober enough to disguise herself. She'd resorted to a pair of T's boxers as shorts and a tee shirt, but she was still peeved that she'd lost the pants she'd been wearing.
She was turning out cushions and putting them back to no avail. "Uncle Rab," she called out, standing up straight and placing her hands on her hips, "have you seen a pair of trousers that aren't yours lying about somewhere?" Of course, they might have been his. She'd tried to avoid sneaking anything that belonged to him, but it couldn't be helped if Rabastan had the most fantastic suits ever. Oh well, if they were his, she'd blame the dog. The dog that did not exist. Whatever.