dragonhideboots (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} dragonhideboots) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} quaffle_rpg,@ 2009-10-04 19:13:00 |
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WHO: Bill and Fleur
WHEN: 10/4, evening
WHERE: Shell Cottage
WHAT: Attempts at conversation
RATING: Probably pg-13?
COMPLETION: In-progress
It'd been over a week since he'd been home. After the moon at Lavender's, he'd taken a room in a inn near Diagon Alley and took his meals at the pub downstairs. Avoiding the subject of Fleur would have proved futile if he'd shown up at his parent's house and the same went for Charlie's flat. The inn was a little hideaway from everything that had happened.
And now, it was time to go home. He was tired and miserable, fighting a cold carried over from the moon and the related stress, and sick of bland pub food. He'd come to the conclusion that avoiding Fleur was just making him more upset with her and that it was time to hear the whole story out. Plus, he desperately wanted his own bed back and some good French cooking. Selfish, maybe, but true.
And so, he arrived at their cottage, pausing down the road to nervously smoke a last cigarette (and trying not to cough from it...stupid thing to do with a cold, but he was craving a fag). He unlocked the front door and dropped his satchel on the floor. He could Fleur somewhere across the house and cleared his throat in an attempt to announce his presence. A moment later, he sneezed. Perhaps not the best 'I'm home!' declaration ever, but it would do.
WHEN: 10/4, evening
WHERE: Shell Cottage
WHAT: Attempts at conversation
RATING: Probably pg-13?
COMPLETION: In-progress
It'd been over a week since he'd been home. After the moon at Lavender's, he'd taken a room in a inn near Diagon Alley and took his meals at the pub downstairs. Avoiding the subject of Fleur would have proved futile if he'd shown up at his parent's house and the same went for Charlie's flat. The inn was a little hideaway from everything that had happened.
And now, it was time to go home. He was tired and miserable, fighting a cold carried over from the moon and the related stress, and sick of bland pub food. He'd come to the conclusion that avoiding Fleur was just making him more upset with her and that it was time to hear the whole story out. Plus, he desperately wanted his own bed back and some good French cooking. Selfish, maybe, but true.
And so, he arrived at their cottage, pausing down the road to nervously smoke a last cigarette (and trying not to cough from it...stupid thing to do with a cold, but he was craving a fag). He unlocked the front door and dropped his satchel on the floor. He could Fleur somewhere across the house and cleared his throat in an attempt to announce his presence. A moment later, he sneezed. Perhaps not the best 'I'm home!' declaration ever, but it would do.