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Orla Quirke (quirkybeater) wrote in finnigans_rpg,

"Oh, no, it's my fault," Orla said, reaching out to catch the witch she'd bumped into. "Well, technically, it's his fault," she gave a nod to a tall wizard in charcoal robes who hadn't bothered so much as an excuse me when he'd bumped into Orla, causing her to bump into someone else, "but I suspect he's too rude to apologise." Already he was out of earshot, or so she suspected since he hadn't looked back when she'd accused him. She shot his retreating back a little glare before turning her attention back to the witch.

"Are you alright?" she asked, recognising her, more because she knew her brother as the Keeper on her Quidditch team than because of any other real familiarity. That didn't stop her from being concerned, looking her over for any signs of injury or around her feet for any dropped parcels. Orla was secretly glad she herself didn't have anything in hand that had been fragile, or she might have had a few words with that rude wizard that involved replacing or reimbursing her for his rudeness. Clumsiness she could forgive, but he'd been downright rude. "No serious injuries or lost causes with your shopping?" she asked, adding the shopping assumption as a precaution more than anything else.