Alex Weasley (f_alexweasley) wrote in breaking_point, @ 2009-06-30 08:28:00 |
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Entry tags: | *complete, character: fred alex weasley |
RP: Tell me a joke.
Who: Alex Weasley, Tristan Moore
Where: Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Diagon Alley
When: 30 June, 2024
Rating/Warnings: Language, just a little.
Summary: Alex spends a day working for his father
Status: Complete
Alex slipped from his mother's room and back into his own, giving a glance up the hall, his hand closed around a small something. He could hear his father in the shower, but his mother slept on. Not a sound from Roxanne's room, either. Perfect. He locked the bathroom door and perched on the edge of the counter. He'd spent hours as a little boy watching his mother put on her makeup; it couldn't be that hard, right?
Ten minutes and as many pokes in the eye later, he realised that eyeliner was harder than it looked. His left eye was a bit red, and a bit teary, but at least the lines were even now, dark and smoky along his lashes. He dabbed a bit with tissue, then sat back. Oh yeah. That would work.
"Fred? Are you ready?" His father's voice outside the door made him jump.
"Not feeling real well, Dad," he called back. "I'll meet you there, okay?" He imagined he could see the roll of his father's eyes, but there was no answer other than retreating footsteps, and Alex sighed.
He honestly didn't mind working at the shop with his dad, but he was seriously tired of being compared to his Uncle Fred. It had always been there, the comparison of the bright, ginger-haired boy with the ready smile, to his uncle, so like him. But then they'd cry. Or sigh. Or ask him if he was going to partner the shop with his father, because surely he was just like his uncle...
Let them think that now. Alex looked back at the mirror, then leaned in and dabbed at the corner of his eye before touching up the liner with the soft pencil. A steady hand had helped... He ran a brush through his wavy hair and tied it back neatly before heading out and down to the Floo.
He stepped out into the office and turned for the robes that hung by the door, moving quietly past his father and the supplier he was arguing with, heading out into the shop. A stack of boxes lay on the shelves behind the counter, waiting to be stocked, and Alex picked up the first two and headed out into the store.