Feeling Strange. [Jon] Nov 2, 2008 16:48:19 GMT -5
Post by Ana White on Nov 2, 2008 16:48:19 GMT -5
Well, the Common Room was dismal as she had expected, but Ana had not expected their sofas to be so damn comfy. She was currently sprawled out on one, legs crossed in a ladylike fashion, her hands behind her head. However, as plush as her seating arrangement was, it could do nothing to fix her clothes. They had to be the most restricting things she'd ever worn other than that silly bridesmaid's dress she'd had to wear for her father's aunt back in the States.
But what was pathetic about even that, was she hadn't picked out her new wardrobe herself. Ana had about the fashion sense of a twelve-year-old country boy. James had actually had to go with her, and do much of the purchasing on the Auror Department's limitless cash supply for her needs. He'd done his best to pick out things she could easily match together, but Ana was still having issues. So she'd gone with simple, her bright hair pulled back into a curly ponytail.
She was waiting on whoever had been assigned to her as a guide - poor kid. If she could get along halfway decently with them, perhaps she'd strike gold and they would let something slip about the mysterious group that the Aurors suspected to be inside the Hogwarts Slytherin House. Well, that was best case scenario. She just hoped she could rein in her personality to get along with the freaks.
One leg slipped off the edge of the sofa to swing casually in the air, the heel of her boot lightly brushing the ground each time.
I wonder what James is up to?
He was probably starving. The one remotely feminine thing Ana could do well was cook. Hand her the proper ingredients and she'd whip out a delicious, fattening, Southern-fried meal. The best James could do was cereal. Toast on a good day. Actually, she rather missed the cooking she'd done for herself the past four years. Somehow, it made her feel independent. And there was nothing more gratifying than cooking Southern food for English people. It made her laugh every time. Her partner had grown accustomed to it, but many of them gave her the same face she gave them when they handed her hot tea. In essence - what the hell were your people thinking when this became tradition?