Richard Roma, Glengarry Glen Ross

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Well. Wasn't this interesting? A real fun fest.

Ricky Roma took stock of the room, no hurry but not missing anything, not if he could help it. Not looking anything beyond self-assured. Hell, he knew what he was about. And you never let your guard down. Especially not with a group like this. What in - What in the hell was this nutjob operation?

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[lemondrop_party]

(( Ooh, what a lovely app! Welcome :) And rest assured, IC abrasiveness is taken as purely IC. ))

If Roma had thought this to be a bunch of fruits, one might shudder to contemplate how his opinion might alter upon meeting the Lord High Fruit of Fruitland himself. All right, so no one had ever conferred such a title upon Albus Dumbledore officially, but come on ... Supreme Mugwump? Pretty much the same thing.

Here he came, the most fabulous geriatric wizard in all Britain, togged out in his purple robes and his high-heeled buckled boots, ready to welcome Hogwarts' newest arrival. "Welcome," he caroled, beaming in that grandfatherly way of his, like an emaciated Father Christmas. "Welcome, young man, to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! How was your journey?"

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((Good to know-gracias, aheh. And, thank you, the 'Lord High Fruit of Fruitland' has made for some major snerking. XD))

Oh God. Oh Christ. Somebody fire the fucking confetti cannons, already, strike up the band and start the parade.

Okay. Okay, so he stared for a moment. Just a moment. Just a moment, but for that moment he couldn't say a fucking thing and damned if he could even think a fucking thing, because... because what the hell else can you do when some like that marches (swishes? Christ) over?

"What the hell."

So, not the most tactful answer. He had been trying to go for tactful. He usually could and usually did. But some situations, it was asking too much. He'd have to get this one through his system before he could even think about speaking to it. Him. The... The complete fucking fruit. God. God damn.

[lemondrop_party]

In no wise daunted, Dumbledore merely said, "It does take some getting used to, I'm afraid. Please do not be alarmed. Whether you have been alive or dead, this is not hell; far from it! This is a haven for all wizards."

Reassuring, no?

"I am Albus Dumbledore, former headmaster of this school, and a professor emeritus," he continued. "I would give you my card, but I seem to have left all my chocolate frogs in my other robes," this said while patting the pockets of these robes in search of the elusive sweets.

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Of all the fucked-up things in this room, Roma was pretty well convinced he was currently facing the worst. A dragon was supposed to be fucking intimidating. Not that this... guy was intimidating. Christ, no. Just beyond all words. Beyond all definition, and beyond words. You couldn't even call this guy fruit, flamingly fabulous, whatever term you could come up with; this was something else altogether.

And it was still taking Roma some time to catch up with whatever the hell was coming out of his mouth. Words of some sort, probably. Nonsense words, most likely. Talking fruit about wizards (oh, God, please say he had not suddenly died and ended up in Hell or some place with a bunch of fucking wizards... he wasn't even going to entertain that delusion, because that would be madness itself) and this school and -

Chocolate frogs?

What in the hell were- And why was this guy messing around with his pockets? Roma had nearly stopped staring, but now he was back at it again.

Could you believe this guy? Could you fucking believe it

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Dumbledore fixed the new student with what was usually recognized as a kind but stern gaze, medium-firm. "Chocolate frogs are just what they sound like: frogs made of chocolate. Young man --" everyone was a young man, compared to Dumbledore, or nearly so -- "your vocabulary is in need of expansion." That remark might be expected, given Roma's fondness of the f-word. Dumbledore's reasoning, however, might not have been so predictable: "Nothing spices up a vehement expression like a good sprinkling of wizard swears!"

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Bizzaro-world just got fucking stranger and strange. Wizard swears? Wizard... swears? What the fuck class-A shit had this fruit been into?

Very much against his liking, Roma was almost, almost tempted to egg the old guy (speaking of which, "young man," what in the hell, "young man"?) on, just to see what would come of it. Find yourself in a situation like this, might as well go along with it.

But Roma was damned if he wasn't going to encourage this guy. You do not encourage that type. It was a simple fact of life.

"Yeah, hey, or how about this? How about I am perfectly fine with my vocabulary, thank you very much." An exasperated, exaggerated sigh; for fuck's sake, these people.

Wizard swears. Fucking wizard swears.

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Dumbledore waved an arm (dig those batwing sleeves!), an expansive gesture meant to connote the opening of new vistas. "There is always more to learn. It may all feel like too much to take at once, but give yourself time and have patience, and soon you will be taking in more than you dreamed possible!"

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"Yeah, how about if you catch me using these--These wizarding swears, you shoot me?"

Jesus God alive, where did this guy get his fucking clothes and, more to the point, how could he fucking wear them?

Oh. Oh, wait. Take a step back, look at the guy, replay the words...

Right. That was how he could wear them.

[lemondrop_party]

"Wizard swears," Dumbledore corrected. "The wizarding world uses wizard swears. Beginner's-level examples might include 'cauldron bum' and 'son of a banshee'. The vehemence of a wizard swear is limited only by your imagination!"

((Shamelessly cribbed from the Wizard Swears episode of Potter Puppet Pals))

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He laughed.

Fuck. Ahhh, fuck, he'd actually laughed at the fruit and his faggot-ass words. His wizard (NOT WIZARDING!) swears.

Roma composed himself, brought up the more appropriate expression of disgust. "That is fucking ridiculous. Childish."