Date: June 1, 2005
Characters: Orla Quirke, Wayne Hopkins
Location: The road between River Place and Quirky thoughts
Status: Semi-Private
Summary: Early morning flying is one way to start the day
Completion: Complete
Orla couldn't sleep. A small voice in the back of her head was taunting her, calling her all manner of names for her cowardice. It had been
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Once the coffee was done, he poured a cup and walked out onto the balcony. It was going to be a pretty day if the morning was anything to judge. He leaned against the rail and sipped his coffee for awhile before he sat down in the comfy lounge chair to enjoy the morning air.
He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, thinking about his plans for the day and putting off getting dressed as long as possible. When he heard the sound of something crashing, he thought he might have imagined it. He leaned up and opened his eyes, scanning the sky for anything threatening. When he didn't see anything, he stood up and noticed a young woman lying on the street with a broom close by.
He started to Apparate down to check on her but remembered, fortunately, that he was naked, so he grabbed a pair of track pants and slipped on his trainers, figuring he'd just go for a run after checking on the woman.
"Miss, are you okay?" he asked after he Apparated down beside her.
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"Er- no, I'm fine, just a bit clumsy- I mean a lot clumsy, I didn't meant to-- that is to say, I'm sorry I, er, disturbed your morning." Blast, but now she probably looked and sounded like a madwoman, her hair windblown, dirty from the road, and her glasses askew on her face. She righted them quickly.
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He knelt down and checked her legs, knowing from childhood experiences that falling off a broom seemed to always result in knee injuries. After a quick check, he determined that she was a bit bruised but would be fine. "You might be sore later, but it looks like it's just bumps and bruises."
"Fortunately, it looks like your broom is in good shape," he added, checking out the broom and then smiling at her.
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Orla pokered up when he knelt and began examining her legs. She was sure all the color had drained from her face at the touch, she was so mortified. She'd been caught redhanded and here he was making sure she was ok. She mustered a weak smile and said faintly, "Thank you. Really, you don't have to go to any trouble on my account."
"My broom? Oh, yes! Er, I got it special in the hopes that it might improve my flying, but as you see, it doesn't seem that anything can fix clumsiness." She gazed a bit forlornly at her broom. She'd been so pleased with herself, getting around and getting as high as she had. All for naught.
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When she mentioned being clumsy again, Wayne ran his hand over his head and considered her. "You know, if that's your regular attitude about yourself, I can see why you'd not succeed. I mean, I'm not that smart about this stuff, but I'd figure you should focus on the good parts and then just improve the bad." He shrugged. "Clumsy's a state of mind. If you see yourself that way and blame it, then you'll never get rid of that crutch."
"What you need to do is know that the broom is just a stick of wood with a bit of magic, but it's useless without you. So, it needs you, and you're the master over it. When you get on it and start to fly, just be confient and not thinking about being clumsy."
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Orla was startled when the man bluntly told her in no uncertain terms that her attitude was part of the problem. It rendered her speechless for a moment, until, tired from a sleepless night and sore from a crash landing that had indirectly been his fault, she replied, "Its all well and good for you to say that, but you don't know me, sir, and one crash landing and erstwhile rescue doesn't give you the necessary insight to make such statements."
She took her broom back and continued, "As for my attitude, I'm perfectly comfortable being clumsy and dealing with the repercussions as such. Part of it is due to my own limited vision." She gestured to her glasses. "But I find it generally useful in my line of work, as it puts people at ease, and they will talk more freely around me, and too me. Case in point." She said this last bit rather pointedly, a bit miffed at his attempts to analyze her.
"But as for your advice on the broom I will take it under consideration. In the meantime, I'm perfectly content to get around under my own steam, thank you." She managed a polite smile. "So, thank you again, sir, for coming to my rescue, but as it were, I've not come to any harm."
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He grinned. "Love, I'm not comfortable talking to you because you're clumsy and fell off a broom. I'd be talking regardless because I don't see any problem in being friendly. I might say things without thinking sometimes, sure, but I figure we all do that."
"Wasn't anything to rescue," he pointed out. He scratched his stomach and glanced at the sky, wondering if he should get a shirt before his run and then glanced back at her. "I just heard the crash and saw you lying down here, so I figured I'd make sure you were okay. Watch out for soreness in your knees, as that's where it usually hurt me when I was learning how to fly."
He smiled and nodded towards her. "You have a good day, miss, and I promise not to do anymore unnecessary 'rescue' attempts anywhere around you."
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"Sorry. Its just, I'm a therapist, and its rather off-putting for people to try and tell me about myself. Guess I get touchy about it. Either way, it doesn't change the facts. A- I am clumsy. Can't walk down the road without tripping on air. and B- well, I might fly better if I don't fly past your place next time I try." She avoided looking him in the eye, sure that he would be able to tell the image of him naked had been what caused her to go haywire. It had been too long, nearly a year, since she'd seen a bloke like that, and she'd convinced herself she had no need or desire to do so again.
When he looked up, she began to edge away. "Anyway, thanks again, and I hope this doesn't put a damper on your day, sir. If I can ever return the favor, I'm right over here." She gestured to her house, with its "Quirky Thoughts" sign hanging out front.
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"What does flying by River Place have to do with you being clumsy?" he asked curiously. He rather liked the building, and it wasn't too many floors high.
"Wayne Hopkins. No need for Sir," he told her. He looked over at the house she motioned to and grinned. "I've seen that sign up for a few months, but I'd not ever noticed anyone who lived there."
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"Orla Quirke." She stuck out her hand and shook his. "I guess I keep a rather strange schedule, as my clients need."
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"Distractions while flying aren't usually a good thing. Not sure how the building was able to distract, but hopefully it won't again," he told her.
He shook her hand firmly and grinned. "Nice to meet you, Orla Quirke. I know about odd schedules, but I work from home sometimes, so I notice activity on the street below when I'm taking a break."
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"Er, I'll just stay on another side of the building if I fly by. Away from your patio." She could bring herself to come out and say it, but hopefully he wasn't so obtuse that he didn't get what she meant.
"Home offices are nice, I'd say. I like having everything right there, myself." SHe smiled a bit. "I'm working on getting out more. Too easy to spend my entire day with the cats and some books."
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When she mentioned his patio, he realized that she must have flown by when he'd been relaxing. He arched a brow and grinned. "You know, there's nothing to be ashamed of about being naked. I figure more people would be relaxed and happier if they'd just get naked once in awhile and enjoy the breeze on their bits. Course, that works for me, but maybe not everyone. People can be so uptight about nudity when, really, it's just being natural. We weren't born wearing clothes, after all."
"But, yeah, sorry if you got an unexpected view. While I've got no concerns about nudity, I realize others do, so I don't make people uncomforable," he explained.
"Home office is nice but it's all too tempting to never get out," he said. "I can lose myself in work sometimes and realize that it's been weeks since I've been social, which is just not on because I love people and hanging out with friends. Guess it's mostly that I've not really had any friends around since the war ended."
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"oh, I'm not saying it was something to be ashamed of." SHe said hastily, wishing the ground would swallow her up. "I just- it wasn;t like you meant to be seen, and I rather invaded your privacy on that count, and - well, anyway, sorry." She ended a bit lamely. She wasn't one for nudity, and given how distracting it was to her, figured it might just be a muggleborn thing.
"Well, I guess given how much my work requires people to come and see me, I don't have quite so much of a problem in that area. Its more a matter of me taking advantage of the town offerings. Like that book club being started, or the hangout space-I think it's called the Loft. It requires me to be a bit more deliberate, but that can be a good thing, right?" She looked over at her house, and was a bit surprised to see Sigmund and Kinsey staring out the front window at her and Wayne. Strange.
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He smiled. "I've been the Loft before. Weasley's an all right bloke. Saw something about that book club, and a music club that I intended to attend but real life overwhelmed me at that time."
"When we get the community centre up and running, I'm thinking about taking a class or two there, depending on what we can arrange to get offered and all."
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"Yes, there are certainly times when enjoyable activities are more of a chore than fun." She agreed, knowing her own ability to get out and about was certainly affected by how tired work made her on occasion.
"Oh? There's going to be a community center? I wonder what kind of happenings are being planned for that." Orla was most curious, given how many ideas she'd had regarding more widespread help groups that she'd not been able, nor felt ready, trying to organize in Stoatshead yet.
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