This is not something I want to talk about with my mum Who: Seamus and Conner When: Tuesday late afternoon into the evening Where: Seamus's Bangin' Bash Eatery, Diagon Alley What: Seamus has not shaken his mood and needs mate's perspective Rating: low, just language
The biggest worry on Seamus's mind at the present was trying to figure out how to proceed. The running of his place was easy by comparison to the puzzle he had in his head. And it didn't help matters any that the thoughts went round and round with no clear solution, even as he opened up, accepted the delivery of the alcohol and food stuff. He spent most of the morning setting up, casting cleaning spells to catch the spots he'd missed in his drunken state, and reviewing the books as he prepared to pay his accounts. His mother came round and was busy in the kitchen, filling the Bash with the smell of roasting meat, and custards and pies. He decided to go ahead and put up the HELP WANTED sign in the window, and when his mum caught sight of it, she grinned.
Thus the day progressed, at an achingly slow pace as far as Seamus was concerned. The activities at hand, and the slow flow of customers gave him far too too much time to think about that address. He berated himself internally as he served up ice tea to a table of women, Should just bloody jump in the floo, and see where the bloody hell I land. I mean, what's the worst that could happen? he mused as he moved back and forth, from the kitchen to the table. He was sort of relieved when his mum left in the early afternoon to go home and tend to his dad. She kept giving him the stink eye, knowing something was up. Seamus did not want to discuss anything about women with his mum; it only seemed to encourage her and give her all sorts of loony ideas. But he wasn't himself; he kept forgetting little details, like cutlery and mixing up the orders. And when he finally spilled an entire jug of decanted wine, Seamus swore like the Irish bred man that he was.