Got hair in a curl
That flows to her bones
And a comb in her pocket
If the wind get blown
Sunday, December 17 • Morning
Sunday mornings at inns were incredibly dull, in Tonks' opinion. Drinking some tea, laughing at the things printed in the paper and watching people check out and then go about their business was good for about an hour, but then things quieted down.
No shops open, no home to putter about yet, and no visiting to do yet ... as that was one nest of Doxies she wasn't quite yet ready to dive into.
Hence: rattling about the office. ... Theo surely wouldn't object to a bit of colour at her desk, would he? Tonks regarded the print before her dubiously before shrugging and waving her wand to plaster it to the wall. It wasn't like she was girling up the place with plushed animals or anything, and besides, the thing had been Charmed so that clients would see the cover of Kirley McCormack Duke's solo album, not the men of the Kenmare Kestrels.
Let's siphon up some gas, let's get this show on the road
Said the coma girl to the excitement gang
Friday, December 8 :: Afternoon
On one hand, it was heartening that mum had pushed her out the door so soon with a lead on a job in the wizarding world.
On the other, being reminded of Andromeda Tonks' formidable connections was a bit intimidating. Getting set back up with a paycheck quickly was well and good, but once that was done she would sure as anything move on to the lovelife.
Distracted by that incredibly frightening thought, Tonks barely missed a gaggle of young witches. A parcel caught her on the arm and sent her stumbling against the side of the record store next to The Leaky Cauldron.
Right-o. Have to visit there next, good to remember.
She straightened herself up and brushed her jacket off.
Wouldn't do to show up at an interview with this Mr. Nott with brick dust all over, would it? The holes in the jacket he'd have to accept, though. That was vintage denim.
So if you meet me
Have some courtesy
Have some sympathy, and some taste
Use all your well-learned politesse
Or I'll lay your soul to waste.
Saturday, Oct. 21 || Afternoon
An increase in activities in the shadows and outside of the law had not escaped Bellatrix's notice, although from all appearances it largely had escaped the notice of the Aurors and Hit Wizards.
Bella's hooded eyes scanned a piece of parchment, both a report confirming the identity of the wizard behind so many items of interest lately and a letter of recommendation for the same.
Her plans, some in motion even now, some still ripening, needed darkness and quiet to succeed. There was no spare room for someone else's meddling. A grand scheme, something of worth — that she might be willing to accommodate and make room for.
Petty thefts, however. She would not allow something so small to jeopardize her aims. Either this Mr. Nott would have the skills to continue to keep his activities beneath the notice of the noxious authorities, or he was a threat to be eliminated.
And so she would put him to the test. Bellatrix drew a cloak around herself and entered the alley behind a building rumor indicated would soon be the site of a ... "security firm."
Mr. Nott would either prove useful, or would be quieted.
A homecoming of sorts
Wednesday, April 26th - Afternoon
Dung stubbed out his cigarette and thought longingly of the pipe packed safely away in his bag back at the inn. He'd been in a hurry to meet his contact and hadn't wanted to take the time to find it.
"Where are you? I've got t'ings ta do, can't be lurking 'bout waitin' all day," he grumbled under his breath, still trying to blend in with the rest of the afternoon crowd at the Hog's Head. He'd chosen a booth in the back, near the almost hidden back door he'd discovered on a prior visit when a quiet, unobserved exit had been needed.
Long, nimble fingers dug into his cigarette pack for another smoke.