Andrew Vance
24 Oct 2019, 02:59
Lickety-split
Sunday: July 14, 2019
Andrew entered the ice cream parlor, finding relief from the summertime heat outside as he stepped into the -- no, not "air-conditioned" room, but that was the first thing it reminded him of -- obviously there had to be a spell of some sort that lowered the temperature in the parlor so that the customers stayed comfortable and the frozen delicacies stayed, well, frozen.
Apparently, plenty of others in Diagon Alley had the same idea of flocking to the parlor at this particular time. The shop was more packed than usual. For Andrew, there was no hiding his Muggle heritage, walking in blue jeans, a gray T-shirt, sneakers, and carrying his trusty brown crossbody bag that held a plastic water bottle in its side-pocket. Andrew was fully aware he'd stand out from most wizarding folk.. And perhaps even earn a few questionable glances. But did he care? No, not really. Muggle clothes were comfortable, that's all that mattered to him. And convenient, since they were the only things he had at home. Why pay money on wizarding clothes just to blend in?
Casually, he made his way over to the counter where the rainbow of ice creams were on display, eyeing which flavors were new and which ones he might like to sample before buying. Anything with "chocolate" in the name was usually a safe bet for him, but what in the world was Lunar Mustard & Thyme Fudge?...Chimera Jelly?...Grim Mushroom Toffee?
24 Oct 2019, 12:47
Lickety-split
Wide, protuberant eyes on her tiny, child’s features made little miss Warren looked like she was perpetually dazed, and unresponsive; particularly, when she would fix them against some mysterious absent matter in front of her and she would not, for Merlin’s sake, show anything but slow, regular breath between her full lips as evidence of her corporeal needs.
Her funereal reflection on the glass counter display was that of a minute, bony child, with long wind-ruffled brown hair that kept touching her red cheeks; she wore an oversized, tunic black dress with a white rounded collar and that, while hiding her arms up to the thin writs, revealed the childish fragility of long, pale legs and the small size of her lace-up black shoes – and the way the kept those shoes close together while standing still and undisturbed in front on the counter.
Against the rainbow and the sweet smell of ice creams, she seemed out of place, exactly like the Muggle-ness of Andrew made him stand out amid robes and pointed hats.
It was when his Muggle reflection joined hers on the counter display, that miss Warren became silence itself – and her soft lips stayed half open, deprived of the breath she had been about to take.
Turning her little head to her right, her eyes fixed on Andrew pensive face – his forehead, his eyes, his nose -, his cotton shirt and that outrageous use of plastic in a world – a wizarding world – that preferred copper vessels, or old-fashioned metal flasks at least.
It took her a second or two before, with a flowing of hair down her shoulders, turning back her head, she resumed her staring activity against the ice creams. Now breathing slowing again. As if nothing had happened.
Now fully aware that another non-pure-wizard was around.
Her funereal reflection on the glass counter display was that of a minute, bony child, with long wind-ruffled brown hair that kept touching her red cheeks; she wore an oversized, tunic black dress with a white rounded collar and that, while hiding her arms up to the thin writs, revealed the childish fragility of long, pale legs and the small size of her lace-up black shoes – and the way the kept those shoes close together while standing still and undisturbed in front on the counter.
Against the rainbow and the sweet smell of ice creams, she seemed out of place, exactly like the Muggle-ness of Andrew made him stand out amid robes and pointed hats.
It was when his Muggle reflection joined hers on the counter display, that miss Warren became silence itself – and her soft lips stayed half open, deprived of the breath she had been about to take.
Turning her little head to her right, her eyes fixed on Andrew pensive face – his forehead, his eyes, his nose -, his cotton shirt and that outrageous use of plastic in a world – a wizarding world – that preferred copper vessels, or old-fashioned metal flasks at least.
It took her a second or two before, with a flowing of hair down her shoulders, turning back her head, she resumed her staring activity against the ice creams. Now breathing slowing again. As if nothing had happened.
Now fully aware that another non-pure-wizard was around.
Andrew Vance
25 Oct 2019, 05:47
Lickety-split
It took a good solid five minutes at the counter while he was making up his mind, that Andrew finally glanced over at [Ruth], noticing her black apparel and unusual silence that made her seem listless and somber. Her expression was unreadable. With the bleakness and frailty of her appearance, it was as if the girl was on her way to a funeral, or had just come back from one. Was she? Had she? Either way, she seemed a little…blank. Even though Andrew wasn't there to judge, he was a little confused as to what the girl was up to, and why she was here. Was she deep in thought? Did she even care for ice cream? Or maybe she was just stumped for options and didn't know what to pick.
"Can I have a sample of Lemon Curd please?" He asked the server.
A swift second later, and the tiny spoon of bright yellow ice cream was handed to him. "Here," Andrew said with a friendly smile, holding out the tasting spoon to the girl beside him. "In case you've been standing for quite a while." He didn't know how long the girl had been at the counter before he arrived, but while Andrew had occupied his time sampling a myriad of flavors, [Ruth] had simply stood there, mute and expressionless.
Like holding out a sun-yellow dandelion to a mourner, just to brighten up the mood. Andrew's small gesture was a casual way of showing that he acknowledged the girl's existence. Whether she wanted to talk to him or not, or even if she refused his offering, Andrew didn't take it personally. But if there was anything he could do to perk her up, maybe the tartness of lemon curd would get some facial reaction out of her.
After fishing out a few sickles and knuts to pay the cashier for his ice cream, Andrew hastily made his way outside, seating himself at one of the outdoor tables beside the parlor. In one hand, he held a chocolate cone with a single, heaping scoop of turtle-flavored ice cream, topped with a layer of toasted marshmallow and drizzled hot fudge. In his other hand was a bite-sized mini cup of plain vanilla ice cream, which Andrew placed on the tabletop so he could remove his crossbody bag, placing it on his lap. Unzipping the main pocket, a pink nose and the head of a Gray rat poked out, gazing curiously at Andrew for a few seconds before the rest of its body wriggled out, perching atop the bag and giving its fur a little shake so it could stretch out its limbs. As bad as Andrew felt for stuffing Penelope inside his bag for so long, he didn't know what the policies on pets were inside the ice cream parlor. He knew some people could be…sensitive.. about rodents, especially within the vicinity of eateries.
"Hey, Pin-pin. Come on here, girl," Andrew coaxed, chuckling softly as he scooped up Penelope with his free hand, placing her on the table in front of the mini cup of ice cream. A little dollop of vanilla wouldn't hurt a rat as an occasional treat. For all the discomfort Penelope had to go through for them to get their frozen delicacies, the rewards were well worth it.
Leaning back in his chair, the boy and his rat licked away at their ice creams. Relaxing in the drawl of summer. Gazing over the stream of passersby.
"Can I have a sample of Lemon Curd please?" He asked the server.
A swift second later, and the tiny spoon of bright yellow ice cream was handed to him. "Here," Andrew said with a friendly smile, holding out the tasting spoon to the girl beside him. "In case you've been standing for quite a while." He didn't know how long the girl had been at the counter before he arrived, but while Andrew had occupied his time sampling a myriad of flavors, [Ruth] had simply stood there, mute and expressionless.
Like holding out a sun-yellow dandelion to a mourner, just to brighten up the mood. Andrew's small gesture was a casual way of showing that he acknowledged the girl's existence. Whether she wanted to talk to him or not, or even if she refused his offering, Andrew didn't take it personally. But if there was anything he could do to perk her up, maybe the tartness of lemon curd would get some facial reaction out of her.
。.・゜✭・.*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧・✫・゜・。.
OOC Note (12/11/19): Since Ruth appears to have gone inactive, I'm tacking on a would-be ending for Andrew. If Ruth would like to continue this interaction, I can scratch out this ending and continue where we last left off. I just hate leaving things abrupt.
・✫・゜・。. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*.・。.・゜✭・.
After fishing out a few sickles and knuts to pay the cashier for his ice cream, Andrew hastily made his way outside, seating himself at one of the outdoor tables beside the parlor. In one hand, he held a chocolate cone with a single, heaping scoop of turtle-flavored ice cream, topped with a layer of toasted marshmallow and drizzled hot fudge. In his other hand was a bite-sized mini cup of plain vanilla ice cream, which Andrew placed on the tabletop so he could remove his crossbody bag, placing it on his lap. Unzipping the main pocket, a pink nose and the head of a Gray rat poked out, gazing curiously at Andrew for a few seconds before the rest of its body wriggled out, perching atop the bag and giving its fur a little shake so it could stretch out its limbs. As bad as Andrew felt for stuffing Penelope inside his bag for so long, he didn't know what the policies on pets were inside the ice cream parlor. He knew some people could be…sensitive.. about rodents, especially within the vicinity of eateries.
"Hey, Pin-pin. Come on here, girl," Andrew coaxed, chuckling softly as he scooped up Penelope with his free hand, placing her on the table in front of the mini cup of ice cream. A little dollop of vanilla wouldn't hurt a rat as an occasional treat. For all the discomfort Penelope had to go through for them to get their frozen delicacies, the rewards were well worth it.
Leaning back in his chair, the boy and his rat licked away at their ice creams. Relaxing in the drawl of summer. Gazing over the stream of passersby.
— FIN —