What in the Lord’s name was it with British people and their fascination with tea? The tension that had her shoulders in knots battled with the strong tug of traditional Southern hospitality she was raised with. Upon first glance in the room, it looks quite tidy; a good sign that she wasn’t about to be pounced upon. Avery had taken a few measures to ensure she had some sort of weapon on herself besides a wand. For all she knew, he had planned this to set henchmen upon her and force her daughter’s location out of her. Even as she thought about it, nothing seemed to be terribly amiss, and she had long since learned to trust her instincts.
“Don’t suppose you have anythin’ stronger than tea?” She asked as she moved towards the table and chairs that had been set out. Taking her wand out she tapped it on her hat which immediately dried itself, and she took it off to hang it on the chair. Turning to look at him, she waited to sit down. He was tall with brown hair, brown eyes and a stature that made him look as if he’d be knocked over any minute if the wind blew at him in the right direction. He also looked a little frazzled; about how she felt at the moment. Avery didn’t want to smile, not yet, but she at least tried to soften her expression. “If not, a strong cup if you don’t mind.”
“Don’t suppose you have anythin’ stronger than tea?” She asked as she moved towards the table and chairs that had been set out. Taking her wand out she tapped it on her hat which immediately dried itself, and she took it off to hang it on the chair. Turning to look at him, she waited to sit down. He was tall with brown hair, brown eyes and a stature that made him look as if he’d be knocked over any minute if the wind blew at him in the right direction. He also looked a little frazzled; about how she felt at the moment. Avery didn’t want to smile, not yet, but she at least tried to soften her expression. “If not, a strong cup if you don’t mind.”
