Thread: Park Bench
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Old 07-04-2023, 06:20 AM   #40 (permalink)
sweetpinkpixie

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Quote:
Originally Posted by Harron Peasley View Post
Having just visited Olivanders to deposit some money, and change some Muggle cash into Galleons, Florrie decided to hang around Diagon Alley for a little while. The coffee shop had been considerably busy, and the sun was shining its (albeit rather weak) rays, so she'd taken her medium, extra shot, extra hot, almond milk, sugar-free gingerbread syrup latte to go and had perched herself on one of the benches further up the street to drink it.

Even though the weather didn't particularly call for it, her oversized sunglasses were perched on her nose, providing the perfect cover for some people watching.
Cooper preferred not to wear his creature healer robes outside of the Menagerie but today's shift had been particularly long and strenuous, his first time assisting in a simple but necessary operation to boot, and he couldn't quite bring himself to shed his robes as part of his packing up routine. The extra effort to wiggle himself free from the arms that had become entirely too tight around his shoulders recently was too exhausting to think about. He'd just get Phoebe or Theo to help peel him out of them once he returned to the flat...and see about heading over to Malkins and have Charlie make the appropriate adjustments to his robes. He would write Kinsay and ask her, simple work like adjusting hem lines would likely be a breeze for her, but she always seemed to have enough on her plate without him adding to it.

He had at least unbuttoned it, though he could barely button it anyway these days, and untucked his favorite light flannel shirt in a deep navy and burnt red from his jeans and was just ready to go LAY down somewhere. Maybe the playground...or Memorial Garden...or a park bench. Not to nap but just...have a rest before heading back to the flat and working on a spread for the Benoit estate and another private project for Monsieur Benoit himself. Nearly tripping over his own shoelaces, that he had not realized were untied until he had nearly faceplanted and caught himself with a firm palm against one of the streetlights, he had to laugh at himself while running a hand through his now much shorter mop of thick brown hair. He somewhat missed the manbun, but he could always grow it back. Kneeling to fix his shoe, he caught a glimpse of some (he assumed) expensive looking heels across the way attached to a pair of long legs. He dared not allow his, still mostly, boyish gaze to linger for too long and finished his shoes with a double knot before collapsing into the bench nearest him (and across from said long legs and stylish shoes) with a hearty groan and both arms folding over the back of the bench.
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