Flora scrunched the nose at the man's suggestion that the wand, as apparently pretty and versatile as it seemed, was not for her. She placed it back in the box, determined not to let her impatience get to her. She did, however, find herself tapping her foot and glancing back between the door and the place where the man had disappeared, the worry that she'd never be able to find the right wand beginning to set in.
Thankfully, Mr. Ollivander appeared a few moments later, effectively distracting her from her worries.
"It's not as pretty as the last one," she said. It was a simple observation—bratty tone not present. "What of cypress wood? Any special qualities associated with it? Wives' tales?" She gave it a curious wave, just pleased to have another in her hand after the wait between tries.
Thankfully, Mr. Ollivander appeared a few moments later, effectively distracting her from her worries.
"It's not as pretty as the last one," she said. It was a simple observation—bratty tone not present. "What of cypress wood? Any special qualities associated with it? Wives' tales?" She gave it a curious wave, just pleased to have another in her hand after the wait between tries.
