February 8th, 1890 — A Shabby Muggle Pub, London
Spryly had been haunting the pub for three days and was on the verge of hostility with the landlord who resented how little money he was spending. He hadn't been staying there constantly, he had gone away and come back but really the better part of the last few days had been spent there. Finally, his patience paid off and through the door walked Cassius Lestrange. It was a good thing really, he had been seriously starting to contemplate making a pilgrimage to the Chudley Cannons' quidditch pitch and loitering there but that was a lot of effort for someone who couldn't apparate.
He probably could have saved himself a lot of trouble and tried writing a letter but his penmanship was almost as abominable as his spelling and he didn't care to show it off now anymore than he had at school.
"Oi there!" he called out from his dingy corner, waving an arm energetically to catch his attention. He earned himself a filthy look from the barkeep who was likely thinking about how the ale glass in front of him had been finished so long ago the last drops had entirely evaporated.
He probably could have saved himself a lot of trouble and tried writing a letter but his penmanship was almost as abominable as his spelling and he didn't care to show it off now anymore than he had at school.
"Oi there!" he called out from his dingy corner, waving an arm energetically to catch his attention. He earned himself a filthy look from the barkeep who was likely thinking about how the ale glass in front of him had been finished so long ago the last drops had entirely evaporated.
Eyeing up this magnificent set eh? MJ sold her soul to Satan's graphic designer. I wish he'd take mine too.