RP: A Chat with Mum
Title: A Chat with Mum
Date: 20 August 1998
Time of Day: 7:15pm
Characters: Bernice Thruston, Verity Thruston
Location: Manchester
Status: Private
Brief Summary: Verity has a discussion with her mother
Completion: Complete
"Your dad's birthday is coming up next week."
Verity looked up from the carrots she was currently slicing with a knife before glancing at her mum. "I know."
Bernice Thruston placed a plateful of radishes to be cut next to the carrots. "I've already put a deposit down on the Paracelsus Ball Room in London."
Verity winced as she sliced into the next carrot. The Paracelsus Ball Room was expensive, and given her father was turning fifty years old, Verity knew it would be an occasion for dress robes and Verity absolutely hated wearing dress robes.
"I've already sent out the invitations, and all of your fathers friends and colleagues will be there. I even invited the Minister, though I doubt he'll be available, considering all the hard work he's put in thus far at the Ministry. Mr. Robards will be attending, did you know? Excellent Auror, your father says. I'll handle all the arrangements, so you don't have to worry," her mum explained, glancing at Verity's pained expression. "It wouldn't hurt you to show a little elegance every now and then."
Cutting the knife through the carrot swiftly into the cutting block, Verity shot her mother a wide smile. "I'm the epitome of elegance, mum, or haven't you noticed. I just bought these shoes today, you know. Cost me about two weeks of my salary," she lied. Bernice lifted a delicate eyebrow and looked down at the black and white trainers on Verity's feet. She wrinkled her nose and sighed.
"I'll purchase the dress robes for you, if money is an issue."
"I never said money was an issue," Verity said, turning back to the carrots. She dumped them into the large salad bowl before snatching a radish from the plate. Her mum said nothing as she placed the pork chops into a sizzling pan on the stove. Verity knew that even when her mum didn't respond to Verity's comments regarding money, her job, or her love life, her mum was still making the judgmental comments in her head.
"I just got a raise, and a bonus," she continued defensively. "George is also going to let me start inventing with him."
Bernice placed a lid on the pan loudly before wiping her long fingers with a dishtowel. "Inventing? Inventing what exactly? Toys? Practical jokes?"
"Those toys and practical jokes make a lot of money, which in turn will make me a lot of money," Verity explained. She knew better than try to explain that she found joy in creating potions and the such, so she focused on monetary compensation whenever the subject of the shop was brought up.
"Darling, I know I've said this before--"
"Then don't say it," Verity suggested, gripping the knife tightly in her palm.
"But," Bernice continued, "this infatuation you have with that little shop is getting old. You're twenty years old, you're no longer a school girl. The shop was fine for summer work and your father has pulled a lot of strings to get you connections at the Ministry."
"I don't need connections." Verity grabbed another radish and slammed it on the chopping block, digging the knife violently into it as she tried to reign in her temper. "I don't want to work for the bloody Ministry."
"Verity--"
"The same Ministry, by the way, who was looking to imprison you for being a witch," Verity said angrily. "Who would have imprisoned me too, had they had the chance. They're a bunch of conniving, power hungry--"
"Verity Eleanor Thruston," Bernice interrupted, placing her hands on her thin hips. "Watch your mouth, young lady. The Ministry has been changing, and apologetic for what has occurred in the past. Your father is only trying to help you. Having important contacts at the Ministry will help you if you...ever wish to change employment."
"Not that I want to change my job, but I don't need his help," she replied. "I know people at the Ministry."
Bernice laughed shortly, turning to the cupboard to take down the plates. "Besides your father?"
Verity bit back the urge to stab the radish repeatedly, instead she smiled tightly as her mind ran rampant. "Percy Weasley."
Bernice slowly placed the plates on the counter top as she shot Verity a look. "Percy Weasley, the Junior Undersecretary to the Minister?"
"The same," Verity said, lifting her chin. She had no idea what possessed her to mention Percy, except for the overwhelming urge to shut her mother up. "He's George's brother."
"George?"
"Weasley," Verity said through gritted teeth. "He owns Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, you know, where I work?"
"Hmm." Bernice walked past Verity into the small dining room to set the table, though Verity could still hear her voice as she dumped the ragged radishes into the salad. "Well, why don't you invite Mr. Weasley to your father's birthday party?"
"George?" Verity asked, glancing at her mother. "I don't know if he's in the party type of mood since his brother died."
"No, I meant Percy," Bernice replied, examining the napkins before folding them. "Your father would be fairly impressed that you're friends with the Junior Undersecretary, and it might get him off your back in regards to your job situation."
"I'm not asking Percy for a job, mum."
"I never said you had too."
"Would it get you off my back if I asked him to come to the party?" Verity asked pointedly. Bernice smiled, though the gesture didn't quite reach her eyes as she looked over at Verity.
"We only have your best interests are at heart, Verity. Knowing the Junior Undersecretary is important, and will not only benefit you, but your father, should he ever decide he wants to move up in the Ministry."
"To what, Broom Regulation to Minister?" she grumbled, turning back to the salad bowl before she hefted it in her hands and carried it to the dinner table. She wasn't sure what she agreed to, but whatever it was, it seemed to put her mother in a better mood, because she didn't hear another lecture regarding her personal life until her father arrived home twenty minutes later.
Date: 20 August 1998
Time of Day: 7:15pm
Characters: Bernice Thruston, Verity Thruston
Location: Manchester
Status: Private
Brief Summary: Verity has a discussion with her mother
Completion: Complete
"Your dad's birthday is coming up next week."
Verity looked up from the carrots she was currently slicing with a knife before glancing at her mum. "I know."
Bernice Thruston placed a plateful of radishes to be cut next to the carrots. "I've already put a deposit down on the Paracelsus Ball Room in London."
Verity winced as she sliced into the next carrot. The Paracelsus Ball Room was expensive, and given her father was turning fifty years old, Verity knew it would be an occasion for dress robes and Verity absolutely hated wearing dress robes.
"I've already sent out the invitations, and all of your fathers friends and colleagues will be there. I even invited the Minister, though I doubt he'll be available, considering all the hard work he's put in thus far at the Ministry. Mr. Robards will be attending, did you know? Excellent Auror, your father says. I'll handle all the arrangements, so you don't have to worry," her mum explained, glancing at Verity's pained expression. "It wouldn't hurt you to show a little elegance every now and then."
Cutting the knife through the carrot swiftly into the cutting block, Verity shot her mother a wide smile. "I'm the epitome of elegance, mum, or haven't you noticed. I just bought these shoes today, you know. Cost me about two weeks of my salary," she lied. Bernice lifted a delicate eyebrow and looked down at the black and white trainers on Verity's feet. She wrinkled her nose and sighed.
"I'll purchase the dress robes for you, if money is an issue."
"I never said money was an issue," Verity said, turning back to the carrots. She dumped them into the large salad bowl before snatching a radish from the plate. Her mum said nothing as she placed the pork chops into a sizzling pan on the stove. Verity knew that even when her mum didn't respond to Verity's comments regarding money, her job, or her love life, her mum was still making the judgmental comments in her head.
"I just got a raise, and a bonus," she continued defensively. "George is also going to let me start inventing with him."
Bernice placed a lid on the pan loudly before wiping her long fingers with a dishtowel. "Inventing? Inventing what exactly? Toys? Practical jokes?"
"Those toys and practical jokes make a lot of money, which in turn will make me a lot of money," Verity explained. She knew better than try to explain that she found joy in creating potions and the such, so she focused on monetary compensation whenever the subject of the shop was brought up.
"Darling, I know I've said this before--"
"Then don't say it," Verity suggested, gripping the knife tightly in her palm.
"But," Bernice continued, "this infatuation you have with that little shop is getting old. You're twenty years old, you're no longer a school girl. The shop was fine for summer work and your father has pulled a lot of strings to get you connections at the Ministry."
"I don't need connections." Verity grabbed another radish and slammed it on the chopping block, digging the knife violently into it as she tried to reign in her temper. "I don't want to work for the bloody Ministry."
"Verity--"
"The same Ministry, by the way, who was looking to imprison you for being a witch," Verity said angrily. "Who would have imprisoned me too, had they had the chance. They're a bunch of conniving, power hungry--"
"Verity Eleanor Thruston," Bernice interrupted, placing her hands on her thin hips. "Watch your mouth, young lady. The Ministry has been changing, and apologetic for what has occurred in the past. Your father is only trying to help you. Having important contacts at the Ministry will help you if you...ever wish to change employment."
"Not that I want to change my job, but I don't need his help," she replied. "I know people at the Ministry."
Bernice laughed shortly, turning to the cupboard to take down the plates. "Besides your father?"
Verity bit back the urge to stab the radish repeatedly, instead she smiled tightly as her mind ran rampant. "Percy Weasley."
Bernice slowly placed the plates on the counter top as she shot Verity a look. "Percy Weasley, the Junior Undersecretary to the Minister?"
"The same," Verity said, lifting her chin. She had no idea what possessed her to mention Percy, except for the overwhelming urge to shut her mother up. "He's George's brother."
"George?"
"Weasley," Verity said through gritted teeth. "He owns Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, you know, where I work?"
"Hmm." Bernice walked past Verity into the small dining room to set the table, though Verity could still hear her voice as she dumped the ragged radishes into the salad. "Well, why don't you invite Mr. Weasley to your father's birthday party?"
"George?" Verity asked, glancing at her mother. "I don't know if he's in the party type of mood since his brother died."
"No, I meant Percy," Bernice replied, examining the napkins before folding them. "Your father would be fairly impressed that you're friends with the Junior Undersecretary, and it might get him off your back in regards to your job situation."
"I'm not asking Percy for a job, mum."
"I never said you had too."
"Would it get you off my back if I asked him to come to the party?" Verity asked pointedly. Bernice smiled, though the gesture didn't quite reach her eyes as she looked over at Verity.
"We only have your best interests are at heart, Verity. Knowing the Junior Undersecretary is important, and will not only benefit you, but your father, should he ever decide he wants to move up in the Ministry."
"To what, Broom Regulation to Minister?" she grumbled, turning back to the salad bowl before she hefted it in her hands and carried it to the dinner table. She wasn't sure what she agreed to, but whatever it was, it seemed to put her mother in a better mood, because she didn't hear another lecture regarding her personal life until her father arrived home twenty minutes later.