Originally Posted by Zieko

Allison at first thought thought Chaucer was insane and he was about to attack her with a spray-of-who-knew-what. And gave a visible flinch. When he then sprayed her hair she felt odd. No one had ever bothered with her hair since her mother, and she had to admit it felt quite nice. After having a look at Chaucer's flawless hair Allison thought herself in the best of hands. Letting herself be mussed over Allison gave a content sigh.

However there was a moment when she was sure Chaucer had wondered in thoughts when he pulled her hair enough to cause her to yelp. Looking at Sabel who looked as if she was committing a horrid crime by allowing Chaucer near her hair Allison rose an eyebrow. If Sabel didn't like it, perhaps she should ask the boy to stop? But before she could take any action Chaucer affirmed the obvious: he was finished.

Removing her served plate, she picked up the bottom silver plate and used it for a mirror. Her hair was no longer frizzy, but now silky...and her waves looks more like very wide lose curls. Not knowing whether to be happy or scared/astonished Allison placed the plate down and did what her mother would dictate, "Thank you! It's...it's quite nice. Wonderful really." She had no clue about hair or clothing so she had to guess for the best words

Allison looked at Sabel as he investigated Chaucer's purse...man purse! Bag...whatever. Grinning Allison shook her head, the idea of a bathroom sink was too much for her, although she knew that with the right magic one could shrink things into bags, purses, satchels...anything at all. Biting into her own chocolate, she gave Sabel a look of contained laughter, [B]"Have you all started on your Astronomy homework?"

Before either boy managed to answer Allison spit out her loved chocolate on fear of choking on it. Here was Chaucer talking about personal hygiene of a corpse and Sabel went in and said that. At this point Allison was crying in her hands of laughter.

Originally Posted by Vinegar Tom

Chaucer's head whipped around to look at the Gryffindor boy, eyes wide. "You're fibbing! You are aren't you? That's terrible! How can I prevent this? How long has this been happening?!" All of his romantic death scenes were now befouled by this new information. "Ugh, there's nothing for it then. I'll have to die in a fire." He had no plans of the kind, but rather was referring to his 'imaginary' self, the one he often thought about in great fanciful reveries performing heroic deeds.

As was typical of Chaucer, any doubts or insecurities he harboured were thrown completely away at the sound of a compliment. "Even I wasn't expecting it to look so fine. You'll turn a few heads more, I guarantee that!" He chuckled to himself before the notion of 'homework' was able to find ground in his airy head. "Homework... right. I had forgotten. Too often I find that homework cheapens the experience of receiving the actual lessons that I so adore. I understand the necessity, however, and shall perform the deed without complaint." He said this with his hand delicately posed in the air like some old saint, as though he were truly martyring a part of himself to do this simple task.