RP: Does idiocy justify homicide?
Date: 30 March 2005
Character: Cedric Diggory
Location: the museum
Status: Private
Summary: Some days? You wish you'd just stayed in bed ...
Completion: Complete
Cedric believed in the fundamental worth of every human being. And that wasn't merely lip service. He truly did. He struggled to be patient because he believed it to be a virtue, and kind, because he believed it a sign of true strength.
But some days, he had serious thoughts of murder just to clear the gene pool.
This was one of them.
The day had started with something minor: "Er, this coffee has cream, no sugar. I ordered sugar, no cream."
"Oh." The waitress at his coffee shop took it back. "I'll get that fixed."
"It'd probably be easier," he said, "if you'd just leave the cream and sugar on a counter." Most shops did.
"The cream sours," she replied. "I'll bring it right out to you. Go ahead and sit down."
So Cedric plugged in his computer, began to work, and waited. And waited. The waitress didn't appear. Finally he went up to the counter and waved her down. "Er, my coffee?"
"Oh!" she said. "Sorry." And she brought him a take-away cup although he wasn't planning to go anywhere. When he took a sip, he almost spit it out.
Cream, no sugar.
He didn't even bother taking it back, just dumped it in the rubbish bin.
The rest of the day passed in much the same fashion. One of his daily newspapers was miss-printed so that half the international section was duplicated. The documents he needed to sign for his home loan so he could tell Dean Thomas what he was cleared to borrow weren't ready because somebody had got the date of his appointment wrong. And last, when he rang up a Greek travel agent to make plans for his trip to Athens to visit to the National Magical Museum in May, she proceeded to shout at him over his mobile for a full five minutes until he hung up on her in frustration. He'd just use the fucking internet. At least that way he didn't have to deal with the non-existent manners of the Greek tourist industry -- either Muggle or Wizarding.
None of this was major, none earth-shaking or tragic, just one minor annoyance after another until by Friday afternoon, Cedric was seething, short-tempered, and had a monstrous tension headache ... hardly the way he wanted to begin his weekend.
"I think I should become a hermit," he told Zen, who'd come in to work with him that day. "That way, I wouldn't have to deal with people." She was perched on the corner of his desk, delicately cleaning a paw, and didn't even bother to look up at him. "I need a big not-good-for-you dinner and a lot of wine, I think."
Character: Cedric Diggory
Location: the museum
Status: Private
Summary: Some days? You wish you'd just stayed in bed ...
Completion: Complete
Cedric believed in the fundamental worth of every human being. And that wasn't merely lip service. He truly did. He struggled to be patient because he believed it to be a virtue, and kind, because he believed it a sign of true strength.
But some days, he had serious thoughts of murder just to clear the gene pool.
This was one of them.
The day had started with something minor: "Er, this coffee has cream, no sugar. I ordered sugar, no cream."
"Oh." The waitress at his coffee shop took it back. "I'll get that fixed."
"It'd probably be easier," he said, "if you'd just leave the cream and sugar on a counter." Most shops did.
"The cream sours," she replied. "I'll bring it right out to you. Go ahead and sit down."
So Cedric plugged in his computer, began to work, and waited. And waited. The waitress didn't appear. Finally he went up to the counter and waved her down. "Er, my coffee?"
"Oh!" she said. "Sorry." And she brought him a take-away cup although he wasn't planning to go anywhere. When he took a sip, he almost spit it out.
Cream, no sugar.
He didn't even bother taking it back, just dumped it in the rubbish bin.
The rest of the day passed in much the same fashion. One of his daily newspapers was miss-printed so that half the international section was duplicated. The documents he needed to sign for his home loan so he could tell Dean Thomas what he was cleared to borrow weren't ready because somebody had got the date of his appointment wrong. And last, when he rang up a Greek travel agent to make plans for his trip to Athens to visit to the National Magical Museum in May, she proceeded to shout at him over his mobile for a full five minutes until he hung up on her in frustration. He'd just use the fucking internet. At least that way he didn't have to deal with the non-existent manners of the Greek tourist industry -- either Muggle or Wizarding.
None of this was major, none earth-shaking or tragic, just one minor annoyance after another until by Friday afternoon, Cedric was seething, short-tempered, and had a monstrous tension headache ... hardly the way he wanted to begin his weekend.
"I think I should become a hermit," he told Zen, who'd come in to work with him that day. "That way, I wouldn't have to deal with people." She was perched on the corner of his desk, delicately cleaning a paw, and didn't even bother to look up at him. "I need a big not-good-for-you dinner and a lot of wine, I think."