19th March, 1888 — Honeyduke's

She'd gotten that letter from Ophelia yesterday, about being in a bit of a bind. (Oh, she knew she oughtn't have laughed at it - she would have been livid, to find herself in such a state - but the melodrama of it all, just weeks before her friend's wedding, had been too much to resist.) Whilst Ophelia hadn't necessarily let her take a saw to the situation, Porphyria did want to do something sweet as a gesture to cheer her up.

Something sweet; apparently this called for chocolates. Not that Ophelia, she suspected, would be overindulging right now, with her wedding on the horizon - but a little bit of confectionery wouldn't hurt anyone. Theoretically. Porphyria did not, precisely, speak from experience. Apparently her sweet tooth had never grown in as a child. (A sweet tooth wasn't the only thing she'd been missing: that entire deficiency of ladylike qualities had left her governess plenty of choice of what to bemoan, her acid attitude a prime topic.)  

People seemed enthusiastic about chocolates, though. She'd attended the Phoenix Society's truffle workshop a month or two ago... if one could call it attending: Porphyria hadn't partaken, exactly, just watched from a bored distance and drawn some little swirls and skulls in the cocoa dust. It was the reason she'd come all the way to Hogsmeade though, and to Honeyduke's: if Ophelia was friendly with the proprietor, perhaps Mr. Honeyduke would be a help to choose something she wouldn't hate.  

He could only be a help - or a hindrance, for that matter - if Porphyria actually went inside the shop, of course. She knew this.

She also knew that the sweet shop was very, very orange. The most garish shade she'd ever seen, something pulled from the delirious imagination of a five-year-old. Even the window display was a hellish kaleidoscope of colour. Admittedly, Porphyria was even wearing colour herself, today, though her robes (embellished with metallic hems and detailing of silver thorn-wreaths) were still a deep navy blue that looked entirely alien to the palette facing her.

Well, there was nothing for it. She steeled herself with a long breath in and out, and then marched inside.

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a sublime set by Lady! <3

Admittedly, Quin was having a rather delightful day filled with baking and fixing up a few projects around the shop. No major accidents on the day either, which was a nice bonus. With is sleeves rolled up and smudges on his face, Quin was touching up the trim around the display window, a nice bright purple to contrast the orange that dominated the shop.

Humming to himself, he paused and wiped his hands on a spare towel hanging out of his pocket. Climbing down the short ladder he was using, Quin stepped back and surveyed his handy work with satisfaction. The store itself had been fairly quiet so far, which was why he'd decided to do the few projects, including the painting, but he supposed he should go clean up the kitchen; his least favorite job.

It was then that the bell above the door rang cheerfully to announce someone's arrival. "Watch out I've been painting!" He called, though none of the supplies were strictly in the way, he didn't want anyone stepping in his mess either!  

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She'd been so overwhelmed by the whole place that the exclamation directed her way made her stop short, though that did allow her to pause and gain her bearings enough to observe the paintpots and mess about the place.

Mess, she didn't mind. The owner of the voice - and the shop - she hadn't minded, either, as he'd taught the Society about truffle-making. A bit cheery, in a bright, honest fashion; he'd come across almost annoying go0d-natured. He looked that way again today, with his paint-stained face.

Porphyria was already rather more offended by the paint. Though she had begun to nod at Mr. Honeyduke in brisk thanks for his warning, her eyes had instead trailed up to the edges of the window display and found her head caught at that angle, gaze fixed in utter mystification.

With an unconscious wrinkle of her nose, Porphyria returned her attention to the gentleman. "I can't tell whether you're making it better or worse," she told him frankly, nudging at the purple paint pot with her shoe. The orange was garish, that much was true, so perhaps purple might've been better overall, but them together? Wasn't there enough colour in here, without piling on more?

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a sublime set by Lady! <3

Relieved to see that his warning was heeded, Quin wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and only succeeded it smearing purple paint across it. Not that he knew that of course, he was completely oblivious and content. That was, until that brunette that walked in questioned his color choices.

"No, really?" Quin would be bereft if she thought his color choices weren't working. He rather thought it was a nice contrast, but now he was second guessing himself. He put his hands on his hips, tilted his head to the side and looked at the purple trim with a critical frown. It was comical if nothing else, to see him standing there with purple smudges on his face looking like a petulant child.

"Everybody likes purple." He insisted, raising an eyebrow hopefully at the brunette. Orange was his favorite color, that wasn't going to change any time soon, but now he was second-guessing all of his color choices!

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   Porphyria Dempsey

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She gave him a pained nod, just to assure him she was being plain with him. No sense in sugarcoating it. (Sugarcoating, hm. Perhaps she should have. If one sugarcoated anything, a sweet shop seemed the perfect place, after all, and he did seem to be taking it to heart.)

Phyri was having to suppress a bit of a smile, watching him consider it, though. Particularly with the paint on his face, which she did not bother pointing out. Instead, she just mimicked his raise of an eyebrow, still rather unconvinced. Everybody liked purple, he said? "Royalists and emperors, maybe," she remarked, matter-of-factly. Purple had always been a colour of extravagance. (Not that Porphyria didn't like it. She did.) "I mean, I thought I liked purple. And then I saw that," she continued wryly, gesturing at the window in defeat. "I blame the orange, really."

She skirted smoothly around the paint pot, and leaned over towards one of the nearest displays of sweets absent-mindedly. "But you needn't listen to me," she clarified, with a sharp grin; she didn't mean to criticise to any particular end. If he liked it (liked to get headaches just from looking at things, rather), he very well ought to keep it, and stuff what anyone else thought. "I suppose clashing everything is what children go for." If that was his aim, he'd done exceptionally well with the whole room. After all, she didn't expect she was exactly the target consumer.  

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a sublime set by Lady! <3

Quin pouted.

It wasn't an expression that crossed his face often, and this one was a little exaggerated, but he truly thought the colors he's chosen were nice and bright, cheery and welcoming! Now he was finding out that they clashed horribly according to the brunette and he was more than a little crestfallen. Orange was his favorite color and everybody liked purple! She'd even admitted it herself! But apparently they didn't go together?

"I suppose I could tone it down..." Repainting was not high on his priority list, but he could probably charm it to something different if he thought about it hard enough. Quin still thought it looked fine, but now he was second guessing assaulting his patrons senses with his love of bright colors. "Is it really that bad?" He turned wide, wondering eyes on the brunette again and really would have preferred if she lied to him, based on her previous statements.

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He really did seem shocked about this.

Porphyria was baffled by this, wondering how on earth he had inhabited this delusion for so long. Whatever its history of colour, Honeyduke’s had always looked just as vulgar and bright as it did today, since the first day she had passed it by.

He seemed like a nice man. Sincere. Cheerful. The pout he was making might have been the thing that made lesser people lie through their teeth - to spare his feelings, or whyever else it was people told white lies.

Porphyria Dempsey, however, had no inclination to such a deficiency. No, she was a proud purveyor of harsh truths, with an unshakeable confidence in her own tastes and little enough patience for hurt feelings. Besides, she had already offered him an out in her ‘you needn’t listen to me’, and Mr. Honeyduke had gone on and asked anyway.

“Yes. Astoundingly bad,” she informed him, an eyebrow raising in concentrated disbelief. “Has no one ever said something about it before, really? I can’t be the first.” Perhaps people had tried, and they’d just been too subtle. (If his taste in colour was any indicator, subtlety was something quite lost on him.)

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a sublime set by Lady! <3

Quin eyed the shop critically now. Nobody had every said anything. Maybe they all found it absolutely terrible but had never had the chance or the heart to tell him? Surely his own employees would have said something about it?

"Honestly, no." Not even Vera had every said anything. It was truly astounding that if it was that bad surely somebody would have said something by now. Maybe the brunette before him just didn't like bright colors? "Well now I feel like I should fix it." Though it was only on person's opinion at the moment, he had to wonder if other people just hadn't told him and he was assaulting their eyes too.

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Porphyria supposed she ought to be a little more apologetic about being his vehicle to The Truth, but in fact she found the whole affair decidedly entertaining.  

"Huh," she said, with a snort, eyeing the room again as if the monstrous brightness would get better and not worse with looking. (No, it was getting worse. She thought she might well be developing a stabbing headache in her temples from having to see it.) How no one had complained before, she did not know. "Incredible."

"Oh no, not on my account," Phyri hastened to say, waving him off, although she supposed if she had not wanted to see him questioning his whole existence, she probably should have kept her mouth shut. "I don't even like sweets. And you don't seem to be struggling for customers -" he could correct her if she was wrong - "so they're probably used to the eyesore by now. That or they've just as little taste in colours as you." She grinned. (It was a something of a novelty to have her honest opinions encouraged, and not one she much wanted to abandon now.)

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a sublime set by Lady! <3

Quin's mouth fell open at her words; she didn't like sweets? That was almost more offensive to Quin than her dig at his color choices. In fact it was! How did a young lady not like sweets? The urge to try and find something she did like was much stronger than fixing the paint colors... he would come back to those another time.

"You don't like sweets? Why are you here then?" He questioned, honestly curious. If she didn't like his paint colors nor what he had to offer in the shop he found it odd she was here in the first place. "What about sour? Or spicy?" He had those on offer in the shop as well. Quin was determined to at least find something to appease her!

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It turned out no amount of criticising his choices of decor could match, in the slightest, her admission about sweets. Fortunately, Porphyria was not so sensitive, in her turn, to be offended about his brusque question about her being here. She'd not even have minded if she hadn't had a particular reason for coming in (and, admittedly, in her mind there was nothing awfully wrong with "criticising his choice of decor" as a legitimate one).

"Eh," Porphyria vocalised - especially eloquently - in answer to his question about candy of any kind, whether sour or spicy or not, and offered a grand shrug to boot. That ought to be illustration enough of her complete lack of interest in sweet treats of any kind. She had never been a dessert person. Or much of a snack person. Food was... well, she had never much appreciated the lavishness of a good dinner, dishes laid out like banquets, rich extravagances. She ate to satisfy her hunger, to survive and nothing more, and if she had to choose a favourite meal, she supposed it would be some pocketed bread and cheese to be wolfed down on a windy walk somewhere. Yes. That, she could fathom.

(Perhaps this was part of the reason she was so hostile at dinner parties.)

"Not my thing. No, I'm here to choose something for a friend," she explained airily. "Miss Dippet, actually. I may need your help," Phyri added, which she probably ought not to admit so brazenly after having spent great efforts insulting Mr. Honeyduke and his shop already.

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   Quincey Honeyduke

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a sublime set by Lady! <3

Still aghast, Quin frowned slightly. The mention of Miss Dippet however, was almost as baffling. The pair were friends? Quin found that an unlikely match, but then again he was not one to talk. "Lucky for you Miss Dippet and I are acquainted." Motioning for him to follow her, Quin moved further into the shop, knowing exactly what Miss Dippet cared for in regards to his merchandise.

He hadn't even thought twice about helping her, though she was clearly here just to vex him (maybe not, but she was doing a bang-up job!) he never even hesitated to do his job. If Quin remembered right, Miss Dippet had enjoyed the bonbons they'd made at the in-home class he'd done for friends of hers, so he suspected they would go over well a second time.

At the glass case near the till, Quin moved behind the counter. "Will you be seeing her soon? These won't keep for too long," He hesitated, knowing a couple of other options he could snag if that was not the case.

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He didn’t look best pleased with her, but that was a fact that would surprise no one. And still, he was resolving to be helpful! (She assumed; if she had worked here, she might’ve taken a great deal of pleasure in sending customers she didn’t like off with rotten chocolates, although that was perhaps not a sturdy business model. Lucky for her, then, that she had not been born to be a shopgirl.)

“Lucky for me indeed,” Phyri echoed sweetly - well, if not for the shark-grin on her face. “I can send them off to her right away,” she told him, and then, feigning ignorance (and maybe baiting him, just a little), “after all, I suppose it doesn’t matter if the owl roughs them up a bit on their way. They’ll still taste the same, won’t they?”

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a sublime set by Lady! <3

Quin narrowed his eyes at the brunette as he placed a few choice treats into a sturdy box. "They're packaged up well, should be fine. I can have one of our owls do it if you'd rather." Not that he imagined Miss Dippet would think any less of them if they arrived a little battered- they still tasted the same. He'd never heard a complaint of anything being ruined beyond eating simply because of how it was delivered.

Putting the top on the box and placing an orange ribbon around it, Quin presented it gently on the counter. "Was there anything else I could get for you today?" At this point Quin, who was usually a kill-them-with-kindness kind of guy, was ready to be shot of his new friend. Still, business was business and she was buying merchandise after all, at least it wasn't a total loss.

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"No, I'm sure I'll manage," she said, carelessly pulling the box towards her. If they weren't chocolate bonbons and something she actually liked she might have used this as an opportunity to sneak a few out before sending them on. But. Since she wasn't.

Maybe she'd charm that orange ribbon black.

"Nope," Phyri replied, cheerful and resolute. "Still don't like sweets," she added, as though anything about this place might have convinced her to abruptly change her mind after twenty-six years of life. (Perhaps the shop did have that sort of affect, though. The orange affected one's eyes first, then seeped into people's brains. And then came for their tastebuds.) "Thank you for you help, though," - she pushed a few coins across the counter at him readily enough - "but I suppose I'd better let you get back to that horrorshow again." Porphyria jerked her free hand over her shoulder at the painting job. The smile on her face twitched into something a touch apologetic, because she didn't mean to be mean. Only a touch, though. Sometimes the truth hurt.

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a sublime set by Lady! <3