WHO: Justin & Ezra WHEN: Saturday, 14 May | Late Afternoon/Early Evening WHERE: Justin's Flat RATING: Low SUMMARY: In dire need of decent social interaction, Ezra meets with his friend, Justin, for idle chatter and a low-key game of chess. STATUS: Incomplete
It had been a long, long week. The sort of week that dragged on slowly, more so than usual, and really left him drained mentally, emotionally and spiritually. Of course, it didn't help that he had spent the past few months interacting with his students only, which didn't help his case any further; if anything, it worsened it. He was desperate for some socialization with a friend, a mature and intelligent and adult friend.
Justin had been the blessed savior that offered up his time, thank Merlin, and Ezra jumped at the opportunity.
Glad that he was finally able to get away, albeit for only a short while, Ezra changed into comfortable, muggle clothes and excused himself from the school grounds. McGonagall had been particularly glad to hear he would be leaving to meet a friend; she had insisted he do so earlier, stating that it wasn't healthy for anyone to cut themselves off as much as he did. He had chosen to disregard her mildly insulting comment and thanked her for allowing him the time off. She had merely cocked a brow at him and smirked before turning on her heel and walking away.
Before he had left, he recalled that he would be entering a heavily muggle-populated area of London and, not in any mood to risk being seen or scaring any of them, he pulled into his memory of the surrounding area and aimed for a well-hidden spot to land in. Apparating into an alley-way a few blocks down from his destination, Ezra dusted himself off and carefully stepped out onto the sidewalk, merging into the masses.
Along the way, suddenly realizing that he hadn't brought anything --and its always polite to bring something, Ezra had stopped in a small store to purchase a small box of pastries. After that, he had nothing else to stop him and, as such, continued to Justin's flat, arriving promptly at the agreed upon time (much to his own luck). One last glance over himself, just to make sure that he looked as presentable as he had when he had first left, and he reached upwards to press his index finger against the buzzer emphatically.