Roger's 24 hour leave
"Your bloody portkey!" Roger said for the third time. "I took the portkey your people gave me, landed in that bloody Hotel California for three days, then they gave me this portkey, and here I am. I'm sorry I'm three days late, but it's not my fault and not my problem! If you didn’t want me to miss the interviews, you should have given me the right portkey!"
The team manager threw up his hands in frustration. His newest Chaser had failed to appear on time and had an outlandish story for it and was trying to turn it back on him. "We've no time for this!" he growled.
"I couldn't agree more!" Roger said and pulled on the last of his gear. He grabbed up his Quasar and headed out to the pitch. They had a few more hours of daylight and he needed the practice. Three days without magic, without flying. His arse was sagging. So he threw himself into practice and did reasonably well. The other Chasers were ready to forgive him his lateness to training camp by the end of the practice. Roger offered to buy the first round of beer that night, which went a long way toward earning forgiveness and building team friendship.
A cameraman was present at morning practice the next day. Roger was quite photogenic and happy to pose on and off his broom, with the Quaffle, with his teammates, etc. In 24 hours, he went a long way to making up the missing three days.
"I had this checked out, Davies," Roger's manager said bouncing the offending portkey in his hand. "It's perfectly all right and worked as it was supposed to."
Roger merely raised an eyebrow. He'd thought this was over with. He was the offended party here… He was the one who'd been waylaid.
"Just remember, Davies, I'm watching you." The man tossed the portkey at Roger whose Chaser reflexes would not let him do other than to catch it. Roger disappeared.
And reappeared at the Hotel California.
"Son of a whore!" he screamed and stomped inside to rail at the Bellboy. "You send me back to Portland right now! I swear I will SUE you! AFTER I finish HEXING you! And turning your bollocks to bowling balls!"
He yelled and shouted and waved his wand, but the bellboy never appeared.
The team manager threw up his hands in frustration. His newest Chaser had failed to appear on time and had an outlandish story for it and was trying to turn it back on him. "We've no time for this!" he growled.
"I couldn't agree more!" Roger said and pulled on the last of his gear. He grabbed up his Quasar and headed out to the pitch. They had a few more hours of daylight and he needed the practice. Three days without magic, without flying. His arse was sagging. So he threw himself into practice and did reasonably well. The other Chasers were ready to forgive him his lateness to training camp by the end of the practice. Roger offered to buy the first round of beer that night, which went a long way toward earning forgiveness and building team friendship.
A cameraman was present at morning practice the next day. Roger was quite photogenic and happy to pose on and off his broom, with the Quaffle, with his teammates, etc. In 24 hours, he went a long way to making up the missing three days.
"I had this checked out, Davies," Roger's manager said bouncing the offending portkey in his hand. "It's perfectly all right and worked as it was supposed to."
Roger merely raised an eyebrow. He'd thought this was over with. He was the offended party here… He was the one who'd been waylaid.
"Just remember, Davies, I'm watching you." The man tossed the portkey at Roger whose Chaser reflexes would not let him do other than to catch it. Roger disappeared.
And reappeared at the Hotel California.
"Son of a whore!" he screamed and stomped inside to rail at the Bellboy. "You send me back to Portland right now! I swear I will SUE you! AFTER I finish HEXING you! And turning your bollocks to bowling balls!"
He yelled and shouted and waved his wand, but the bellboy never appeared.