Who: Justin & George, and NPC Finch-Fletchleys What: Trading stories about jail cells and malfunctioning pranks Where: Justin's quarters, Finch-Fletchley Manor When: September 9, late evening Status: Closed / Incomplete Justin hadn't left his rooms since returning home from his ordeal, and the mere thought of leaving had him trembling with anxiety. He was curled into a ball on his bed, his arms wrapped around a pillow, and next to him, his mother sat on a chair, fingers gently carding through his freshly washed hair. She'd been trying to get him to eat for half an hour at least, but he had no appetite, no matter how good the mjarda might smell. He was just glad to have her there, to not be alone. He'd actually slept the night before thanks to a Dreamless Sleep potion - fourteen hours straight - and his mind was clearer than it had been when the DMLE had finally managed to get a statement out of him.
His sister Sarah had been in and out, checking on him and keeping him company all the while giving him the space he needed. He appreciated it - she had always known what he'd needed. She had been on her way out of the bedroom when she heard a whoosh from the fireplace, something not altogether uncommon as Justin's friends visited often enough. "Hello?" she asked softly, waiting for the figure inside to turn toward her.