Who: Remus Lupin (
lumenrelegandus ) and Heine (
stray_gunner )
When: March 12th, afternoon-ish.
Where: An undetermined street in Anatole and Lupin's accommodations.
Format: Paragraph-y.
What: Tea and biscuits with the professor.
Warnings: Heine possibly drinking tea (I know, terrifying). Also bad language, probably.
(
I've removed the cord from my phone; It no longer rings in or rings out. )
Comments 26
The groceries were a little more varied than usual. They were mostly just for him, since Io tended to fend for herself. The novelty of Anatole of him being able to enjoy a steady income had upgraded recently to utter vertiginous amazement at now having disposable income. As sparse and plain as the ingredients were, compared to his usual, they were downright gourmet.
The books, having always been a higher priority than interesting (or entirely nourishing) food, were a characteristically motley batch.
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He sighed quietly and stopped walking, grudgingly waiting for Lupin to come at least a little closer. He couldn't really pretend that he hadn't heard - the older man wasn't very far away at all.
"What do you want?" Heine muttered, at least sounding more tired than irritated. I don't want to talk to you, he wanted to add, but waited for Lupin's reply first. He did owe him something for all that Lupin had done (and hadn't done), after all, even if he didn't want to admit it.
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"To work out a new form of greeting," he said with a dry smile.
(Somewhere intangible, Sirius pricked up his ears at this faint echo of school banter.)
He glanced over his shoulder, back the way he'd come. "You're heading to the market?"
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He didn't have to wait for long. Of course he was going to the market - oh, no, he was just out for a pleasant walk because he was obviously that kind of person, and somewhere in the back of his mind he realized he was being unfair. It wasn't (all) Lupin's fault, but -- well.
"Yeah," Heine mumbled. "Why're you asking?"
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