Post by Rose Eden on Oct 31, 2007 19:50:40 GMT
Work is work...no matter what kind of work it is... Rose reminded herself in her head over and over again, as she busied herself behind the bar of the Hogs Head.
A bellowed order from a rowdy wizard seated at the bar made her jump and drop the bottle she was holding, and she bent to clear up the spill amid jeers and yelled abuse from the other patrons. She closed her eyes, listening to her breathing and nothing else for a moment, then sighed and swept up the broken glass with a wave of her wand.
It would be a lie to say she even vaguely enjoyed working here. Being shouted at and felt up on her way past aging and/or odd wizards was not her idea of a job at all.
But it was either this, provide for herself, get herself a life, or live the life her parents wanted for her. Which'd consist of marrying a pure blood wizard and living an upper class life that she just did not suit no matter how much of a ladylike woman she was.
A glass smashed in an area of wall just above her head as she straightened up, to roars of laughter throughout the bar, and she flinched slightly, wiping the drops of firewhisky off her cheek, then carrying on with what she was doing as if the interruption hadn't happened, to the familiar chorus of jeers and insults.
A bellowed order from a rowdy wizard seated at the bar made her jump and drop the bottle she was holding, and she bent to clear up the spill amid jeers and yelled abuse from the other patrons. She closed her eyes, listening to her breathing and nothing else for a moment, then sighed and swept up the broken glass with a wave of her wand.
It would be a lie to say she even vaguely enjoyed working here. Being shouted at and felt up on her way past aging and/or odd wizards was not her idea of a job at all.
But it was either this, provide for herself, get herself a life, or live the life her parents wanted for her. Which'd consist of marrying a pure blood wizard and living an upper class life that she just did not suit no matter how much of a ladylike woman she was.
A glass smashed in an area of wall just above her head as she straightened up, to roars of laughter throughout the bar, and she flinched slightly, wiping the drops of firewhisky off her cheek, then carrying on with what she was doing as if the interruption hadn't happened, to the familiar chorus of jeers and insults.
