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Tristan T. Travers (alliterative) wrote in finnigans_rpg,

Tristan bit his bottom lip a little as he straightened up, wondering if maybe he'd unintentionally crossed a line. If the man weren't magical, there'd be no way he'd be able to enter this pub. He'd not be able to Floo or Apparate or simply walk in through the Leaky Cauldron and into Diagon Alley to make it all the way to Finnigan's on Monument Alley. Even if his daughter were a squib, he'd still have to be a wizard to get them both here. Clearly something was going on, and he hoped he hadn't made it worse. He wasn't trying to. He'd just wanted to show the little girl a bit of magic.

"It's alright," Tristan said to the man with a smile, brushing his hair behind his ears. "I was a Ravenclaw, so I think it might be a requirement to engage in conversations about books every now and again." He laughed a little, nervous at having to make conversation. How long had it been since he'd actually spoken to a stranger outside of serving one at Wingbeat? That only required so much skill with speaking, and only so many of them actually wanted to provide polite chatter while waiting for their drinks. "Even if I weren't, I'd still like books, which means she's in good company when it comes to talking about them." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Or, at least, I didn't mind the hijacking," he said, another little laugh escaping.