RP: While the boss is away . . .
Date: Monday 10th June : lunch time
Characters: Marcus Flint, Gwenog Jones [NPC],
Location: Best Brooms on Diagon Alley,
Status: Private
Summary: Marcus is hard at work when an old frenemy walks in
Completion: Complete
Marcus looked up from the workbench he was sitting at. He had been so absorbed in his task that he hadn't noticed Mr Best speak at first. Sorting birch twigs wasn't a difficult job but it was a long one that required concentration. Mr Best was very picky and liked to use only the finest materials - Marcus' only the best joke had gone down like a lead balloon. This meant that the job took time and gave Marcus a pain in the neck.
"Sorry, Mr Best?" Marcus said.
"I said, sonny. That I am going out for lunch and you will be watching the shop for an hour," Mr Best said, peering down at him as if doubting he could be trusted on his own.
"Yes, sir," Marcus said, biting back what he wanted to say. Being called 'sonny' was really starting to grate on his nerves.
"Well don't go touching anything while I'm gone," the old man said, picking up his walking stick and cloak.
I'll just levitate myself off the floor, then. Marcus thought. He watched as the old man left and got up from the bench, stretching, and made his way from the workshop to the front of the store.
It was an old fashioned looking place, with a much smaller shop than the workroom. There was a rich brown wooden floor and green painted walls. A few select brooms lined the walls, Mr Best not keeping great amounts on display, but instead preferring to work to order. He made a small range of good quality brooms and did the more tricky repairs. His main business, however, came from custom orders. From wizards who wanted a more sturdy broom, a comfier ride, a broom so fast that it was unsafe for general use, a child's toy broom, or any one of a hundred little tweaks that could be done to the charms or the structure. Marcus had to admit that it was interesting.
That was, if he ever got to work on one of the damn things. He stood behind the counter, not daring to lean on it after the telling off he had got for that on his first day.
Characters: Marcus Flint, Gwenog Jones [NPC],
Location: Best Brooms on Diagon Alley,
Status: Private
Summary: Marcus is hard at work when an old frenemy walks in
Completion: Complete
Marcus looked up from the workbench he was sitting at. He had been so absorbed in his task that he hadn't noticed Mr Best speak at first. Sorting birch twigs wasn't a difficult job but it was a long one that required concentration. Mr Best was very picky and liked to use only the finest materials - Marcus' only the best joke had gone down like a lead balloon. This meant that the job took time and gave Marcus a pain in the neck.
"Sorry, Mr Best?" Marcus said.
"I said, sonny. That I am going out for lunch and you will be watching the shop for an hour," Mr Best said, peering down at him as if doubting he could be trusted on his own.
"Yes, sir," Marcus said, biting back what he wanted to say. Being called 'sonny' was really starting to grate on his nerves.
"Well don't go touching anything while I'm gone," the old man said, picking up his walking stick and cloak.
I'll just levitate myself off the floor, then. Marcus thought. He watched as the old man left and got up from the bench, stretching, and made his way from the workshop to the front of the store.
It was an old fashioned looking place, with a much smaller shop than the workroom. There was a rich brown wooden floor and green painted walls. A few select brooms lined the walls, Mr Best not keeping great amounts on display, but instead preferring to work to order. He made a small range of good quality brooms and did the more tricky repairs. His main business, however, came from custom orders. From wizards who wanted a more sturdy broom, a comfier ride, a broom so fast that it was unsafe for general use, a child's toy broom, or any one of a hundred little tweaks that could be done to the charms or the structure. Marcus had to admit that it was interesting.
That was, if he ever got to work on one of the damn things. He stood behind the counter, not daring to lean on it after the telling off he had got for that on his first day.