Now that her possessions were in reach again, there was at last a moment to indulge herself a little in the situation, which, at present, was proving more enjoyable than anything in the company of Mr. Rosier had any right to be.
Given that unfortunate truth, then, Porphyria didn’t manage to stifle her surprised laugh when Rosier took it upon himself to rock the boat. If she were a nicer person, she supposed she would have felt obligated to reproach him for that savagery - but she wasn’t, and she didn’t, and she had to bite her lip to stop herself grinning as the petty thief got his just desserts, and began floundering. “Serves him right.”
She scrambled forwards and plucked her things out of the boat, shooting the thief a glare and a slightly more uncouth hand gesture when she thought no one was looking. He’d be fine, anyway; he was not so deep out that he would drown - and, indeed, if he were any smarter than he looked, he’d avoid hauling himself to the bank until there wasn’t an auror standing on it waiting for him.
But he’d learned his lesson - that much was clear - and she had her poetry book back, so Porphyria was no longer particularly interested in him.
As for Mr. Rosier... “I hope,” she said stiffly, surveying him in increasing reluctance as the gratitude swelled, too, “you don’t expect me to thank you for your help.” She hadn’t asked for it, as far as she recalled. It was probably within the parameters of his job, anyway, and he had caught the man with relative ease, besides. And he had been no more polite than she had, so.
Still, the sentiment came out with remarkably little enmity in it. Unfortunate. She did not want to give Mr. Rosier the impression that she was warming to him.
Given that unfortunate truth, then, Porphyria didn’t manage to stifle her surprised laugh when Rosier took it upon himself to rock the boat. If she were a nicer person, she supposed she would have felt obligated to reproach him for that savagery - but she wasn’t, and she didn’t, and she had to bite her lip to stop herself grinning as the petty thief got his just desserts, and began floundering. “Serves him right.”
She scrambled forwards and plucked her things out of the boat, shooting the thief a glare and a slightly more uncouth hand gesture when she thought no one was looking. He’d be fine, anyway; he was not so deep out that he would drown - and, indeed, if he were any smarter than he looked, he’d avoid hauling himself to the bank until there wasn’t an auror standing on it waiting for him.
But he’d learned his lesson - that much was clear - and she had her poetry book back, so Porphyria was no longer particularly interested in him.
As for Mr. Rosier... “I hope,” she said stiffly, surveying him in increasing reluctance as the gratitude swelled, too, “you don’t expect me to thank you for your help.” She hadn’t asked for it, as far as she recalled. It was probably within the parameters of his job, anyway, and he had caught the man with relative ease, besides. And he had been no more polite than she had, so.
Still, the sentiment came out with remarkably little enmity in it. Unfortunate. She did not want to give Mr. Rosier the impression that she was warming to him.
a sublime set by Lady! <3