Arcturus had caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye as she made her way along the road, away from the pub in the distance, but he had instantly dismissed her. Muggle bundled up in coat and hat, nothing unusual, and if he'd glimpsed a shiny glint of metal, well, that was hardly unusual for Everdale. Not even for a woman. He looked away just as quickly, thinking about his favourite chair by the fire in the tavern, and hoping that nobody else would have taken it by the time he got there.
Her shout startled him, made him clutch the broomstick tighter, and the front of it pitched suddenly downwards. As an experienced Quidditch player, though, he didn't lose his balance, and wrenched it back upwards, then made a narrow turn to look back at her. Despite the invective and expletives, he couldn't help but smirk. There were vegetables strewn everywhere. A potato was slowly, merrily rolling along the path. The smirk turned into a chuckle, and the young wizard might have further indulged his amusement if not for that last threat.
It wasn't that he thought she had any power to keep him grounded. Not even if she were a member of that ridiculous muggle council, which from the look of her he very much doubted. Council members had to have servants, they wouldn't be on foot lugging about quantities of vegetables. They'd also be better-dressed. It was in his interest, though, not to invite trouble at this particular time of day, and so he decided to play along a little.
'I say,' he called back, 'if you wanted to talk, you might just have said so. I'll land. Don't be alarmed.' The broom dipped again, but this time in a controlled fashion, and he slowly brought it to hover only a few feet above the ground, directly in front of her. A close observer of the broom might have noted that Arcturus appeared to be sitting not directly atop it – which would have been rather uncomfortable, to say the least – but just slightly above it, with an invisible Cushioning Charm providing the requisite padding. He swung one leg over in what was a much-practised dismount, sweeping the end of his robe out of the way at the same time, and landed solidly on both feet. Safely on terra firma, he took hold of the broom in his left hand and held it vertically.
Arcturus stood very still, straight-backed and upright, and surveyed the road in front of him. Carrots. More potatoes. Was that a turnip? He resisted the urge to smile again, and instead looked back at the woman who had been shouting at him in a very unladylike fashion. 'I expect you've never met a wizard before,' he surmised, politely enough, but with just a hint of condescension. He didn't think much of muggles who didn't believe in magic, although they were certainly an improvement on those who condemned it as thoroughly evil.
He did note that her hands were behind her back. It was an unusual stance for a woman, he thought, but he'd long since stopped expecting the people he'd met in Preya to behave in the ways people did at home. Arcturus hadn't changed, though. It was his responsibility to maintain standards, and then if his father ever did find a way to Preya, he wouldn't be disappointed in him. This was perhaps the main reason that Arcturus was wearing a bright white starched collar, even if it felt a bit scratchy, and an equally immaculate shirt, visible above the buttons on his robe along with the very edge of a darker waistcoat. All of it perfectly tailored, of course. Nothing less than the best for families like his, no matter where they were.
'Flying is quicker than taking a carriage,' he offered then, as if by way of explanation. One seemed merited, somehow.