Who: Ron Weasley, Eddie Cadwallader When: Sundayish. Where: The twins' shop. What: Random run-in. Scene lottery prompt, Consensus Rating: TBD, probably low. Open/Closed: Closed.
Ron was starting to hope that some massive sinkhole would open up in the kitchen. Not so anyone would be hurt, of course, but something on that kind of scale that could distract his mum for a few days at least, so he didn't have to pull teeth to get permission to go anywhere, ever. He managed to sneak off to see Harry and Hermione, at least, but everything else was really difficult to manage. Even if he tried to distract his mum by having her fuss over Ginny, instead. Which had backfired the one time he tried it, anyway.
The twins' show was deemed safe, most of the time, and Ron could convince Molly to sidealong him over there and then go on with whatever errands she had to do for the day. Or so he assumed. Ron was usually fairly oblivious to just what his mum did all day, anyway.
He found it somewhat funny that the twins' shop, where he was likely to be blown up, tested on, or assaulted by sticky-handed firsties was considered SAFER, though.
But it was better than sitting around at home, and Ron had a better chance of slipping off from the WWW than from the Burrow.
He'd only been there a little while when a flood of children swarmed in, picking over the shelves and taking over the twins' attention. Ron lurked behind the counter, trying to stay out of the way. When someone else came in though, Ron figured he might as well help, instead of standing doing nothing, since Fred and George were busy anyway. "Are you looking for som-" Ron cut off as the bloke turned enough that he recognized him. "Oi, sorry, didn't spot who you were. How's your summer, Cadwallader?" he asked.