Dennis Finnigan Creevey (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} dennisthebrave) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} finnigans_rpg, |
Dennis chuckled softly and nodded kindly. "I'm sure if you're meant to find the right person, or uh, people then you will? It just takes time and circumstances I suppose?" He threw his head back and laughed at her suggestion of pissing in their tea. "Merlin and Morgana no, I could never do that! Think of the poor unsuspecting tea," he said, shaking his head in mock anguish. "No I'm sure the Englishman in me would shrivel up and die if I even thought about peeing in a nice cup of darjeeling or somesuch. Thanks for the suggestion though, it's much nicer than Rose's 'cut their dicks off and feed them to them' which was a tad um, barbaric?"
"I can't understand missing the country, me," he said with a smile and a shake of his head. "I'm a city person born and bred, so all that room to run and roam is sort of, well... wasted on me really. I can appreciate it, and I understand that a lot of people prefer it but it's definitely far too boring for me." He took another bite of his lasagne and nodded thoughtfully. "I guess so, though with apparition and the floo network and brooms I've never really thought about it. The people I know who live out in the rurals tend to apparate."
He snorted and lifting his hands in mock fright. "I wouldn't dream of it madam! I value my life, liberty, and the functionality of my extremities so rest assure that I will never touch your steak." He returned her smile, though there was something about hers that was deeply unsettling, and strangely hungry. Dennis couldn't decide if it was hunger for friendship, residual hunger for a shag with him despite his sexual preference, or something baser. He blinked several times and refocused on her with some effort. "Well that's nice of you at least, and I get the feeling really - I grew up in a house of siblings, though I was quite a bit older."
"Hmmm..." he said, scratching his head thoughtfully. "Well your um," he looked at her with a frown for several seconds, wildly searching around for a suitably descriptive and non-insulting word, "Particular schedule, would probably pose some challenges for you in terms of keeping down a more steady job at the paper as they tend not to do shifts, but I reckon you could tag on and off as like a gofer on one of the international teams when they go off to get stories?"