RP: Stir Crazy
Date: 26 August 1999
Characters: Rita Skeeter, anyone.
Location: The Leaky Cauldron, London.
Status: Public
Summary: Rita has to get out of the house before she goes insane.
Completion: Incomplete
Rita tossed her glasses down onto her writing desk and covered her face with her hands.
This full-time job and writing a book thing wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Not by a long shot.
She squeezed at her face, pressed her fingers against her eyes. God, she was going insane. And, she thought, smoothing out her eyebrows, undoubtedly giving herself wrinkles with actions like that.
She had to get out of the house.
The problem, she reflected, as she rose and opened her wardrobe, was that this whole New Woman, Serious Journalist, Serious Writer thing didn't leave her much time to have any fun. You could say what you wanted about trash journalism, but one thing you couldn't say was that trash journalists were boring.
It was certainly something you could say about Serious Writers. Or so it seemed to Rita. Sure, there was a nice chunk of manuscript on her desk, but what of friendship? Going out and drinking and laughing for fuck's sake? Sex? Life had been pretty quiet on that front for quite a while.
Well, fuck it. Fuck the research, fuck the writing. At least for tonight. If she didn't see something other than her living room within the next hour, she was going to go crazy.
And so, half an hour later, changed and with cosmetic charms in place, she was out the door. At this time of night, most of the stores on Diagon were closed, and Monday was certainly not the busiest night at the pub. Hopefully there'd be someone to chat with, though.
The Leaky was relatively quiet when she walked in, but Tom nodded at her when she pulled up a stool at the bar, and she ordered a firewhiskey on ice.
"Nothing fancy tonight, eh?"
Rita chuckled. "No, not tonight. Just sick of being at home. Anything interesting happening tonight?"
Characters: Rita Skeeter, anyone.
Location: The Leaky Cauldron, London.
Status: Public
Summary: Rita has to get out of the house before she goes insane.
Completion: Incomplete
Rita tossed her glasses down onto her writing desk and covered her face with her hands.
This full-time job and writing a book thing wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Not by a long shot.
She squeezed at her face, pressed her fingers against her eyes. God, she was going insane. And, she thought, smoothing out her eyebrows, undoubtedly giving herself wrinkles with actions like that.
She had to get out of the house.
The problem, she reflected, as she rose and opened her wardrobe, was that this whole New Woman, Serious Journalist, Serious Writer thing didn't leave her much time to have any fun. You could say what you wanted about trash journalism, but one thing you couldn't say was that trash journalists were boring.
It was certainly something you could say about Serious Writers. Or so it seemed to Rita. Sure, there was a nice chunk of manuscript on her desk, but what of friendship? Going out and drinking and laughing for fuck's sake? Sex? Life had been pretty quiet on that front for quite a while.
Well, fuck it. Fuck the research, fuck the writing. At least for tonight. If she didn't see something other than her living room within the next hour, she was going to go crazy.
And so, half an hour later, changed and with cosmetic charms in place, she was out the door. At this time of night, most of the stores on Diagon were closed, and Monday was certainly not the busiest night at the pub. Hopefully there'd be someone to chat with, though.
The Leaky was relatively quiet when she walked in, but Tom nodded at her when she pulled up a stool at the bar, and she ordered a firewhiskey on ice.
"Nothing fancy tonight, eh?"
Rita chuckled. "No, not tonight. Just sick of being at home. Anything interesting happening tonight?"