There was hardly anyone in London who felt so out of place as George Henry did standing in a chain coffee shop full of Muggles in the middle of London. Despite his insistence that they could find a decent cup of coffee in Diagon Alley, George's father demanded that they step beyond the bounds of magical London to wade deep into the muggle muck. He felt like he was going to breach the statute of secrecy just being seen, even though he was in his casual clothes. In his first year, his robes had felt like a costume. Now he felt strangely naked without them.

He searched desperately for something to distract him from the dreary, corporate interior. All around him were advertisements, plastic, security cameras, light-up signs, and all other things that a muggle couldn't live without. The hum of hushed cell phone conversations and the droning of whatever pop song they had on loop were going to drive him crazy unless he found something, anything, to occupy himself.

"Do you want anything?"

George looked up at his father, blinking. He could hardly hear over the traffic in the city. There must have been some sort of charm on Diagon Alley that made it block out all the noise. His eyelids fluttered until his glazed-over eyes came into focus again.

"Oh, no, I'm okay. Can I use your phone?"

He felt like an alien trying to use a cell phone that he saw about once a year. With a triumphant wooshing sound, George realized he had successfully unlocked the puzzling device, staring straight at his conversation history with his brother. He could see a tense negotiation about whether he would be coming home this summer in the history. He tapped the screen - considering what he might write - before locking the phone and handing it back. "Never mind."

Looking around the store, George spotted someone who had a... vaguely familiar look about them. @Allister-Jameson MacAllister, perhaps dragged there by a guardian, or simply wandering around Muggle London, was there. George had only met him once outside of their regular classes, so he could not place him immediately. Still, he figured it worth a shot to make some conversation with someone who could know what he was.

"Excuse me," he said. He could barely place his face - it reminded him of bugs, kilts, and failed dates. There was still good odds he was wrong - so he crossed his fingers and threw out a line. "You look so familiar. I think we might go to the same school... I'm George Henry, Huff... uh... hhhow are you?"