Post by Charlie Jones on May 14, 2009 17:12:55 GMT -5
"How much longer, man?"
No response.
"Sir... sir... dude!" It had been about two or three minutes that had passed when gravity started to play its part. Charlie couldn't hold her arms up and outstretched any longer. The tailor was taking his time and she was looking like she was desperately hugging the air.
"This is stupid," she muttered to herself as she lowered her arms, quite aware of how fervent the man had been with his instructions. Neither of them were happy campers in the store, what with Charlie having an itch to get out another cigarette, and the man... well, who knew what his deal was. He had just made her raise her arms and left her for the backroom.
Charlie had reverted back to her worst vice yet again, after quitting for about the fifth or sixth time since starting. She would normally start off fine without smoking for about a week, but the smell always lingered her back to the habit. She wanted to escape but it was impossible.
And it would have been a sweeter escape if she had just left, but she knew better. The quidditch league was paying for her new game robe, and it was just a matter of getting fitted and leaving. Yet she couldn't see that as simple when she was facing the window, arms once outstretched, looking like a pissed-off statue. She looked ridiculous.
Her own mug was very rarely shown in Diagon or Hogsmeade because her schedule had intensified and it was beginning to be more possible to be upwardly drafted if she maintained exposure on the field and in the industry overall. She just had to disappear and not maintain a social life of her own choosing... that's all.
As she took her arms down, she instead focused on doing a little people-watching from her place on Diagon Alley, hoping to see any familiar faces. Now that she was back in town, she was hoping that she could make a better trip of it.
(open)
No response.
"Sir... sir... dude!" It had been about two or three minutes that had passed when gravity started to play its part. Charlie couldn't hold her arms up and outstretched any longer. The tailor was taking his time and she was looking like she was desperately hugging the air.
"This is stupid," she muttered to herself as she lowered her arms, quite aware of how fervent the man had been with his instructions. Neither of them were happy campers in the store, what with Charlie having an itch to get out another cigarette, and the man... well, who knew what his deal was. He had just made her raise her arms and left her for the backroom.
Charlie had reverted back to her worst vice yet again, after quitting for about the fifth or sixth time since starting. She would normally start off fine without smoking for about a week, but the smell always lingered her back to the habit. She wanted to escape but it was impossible.
And it would have been a sweeter escape if she had just left, but she knew better. The quidditch league was paying for her new game robe, and it was just a matter of getting fitted and leaving. Yet she couldn't see that as simple when she was facing the window, arms once outstretched, looking like a pissed-off statue. She looked ridiculous.
Her own mug was very rarely shown in Diagon or Hogsmeade because her schedule had intensified and it was beginning to be more possible to be upwardly drafted if she maintained exposure on the field and in the industry overall. She just had to disappear and not maintain a social life of her own choosing... that's all.
As she took her arms down, she instead focused on doing a little people-watching from her place on Diagon Alley, hoping to see any familiar faces. Now that she was back in town, she was hoping that she could make a better trip of it.
(open)
