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 Pretending to be an Adult (Open!)

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Aoife O'Donnell
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PostSubject: Pretending to be an Adult (Open!)   Thu Sep 17, 2015 11:01 pm

Aoife wished she had some goal or ambition, somewhere she wanted to be in a couple of years, or at least some idea of what she was going to do with her life. People from Hogwarts were going off to actually do stuff and be adults. Phin had gotten a real adult job before Aoife had, and even Hunter, the most lazy and generally crappy person she knew, was going to be an author. But she wasn't good at being an adult: it was a fairly new prospect, and she didn't like all of a sudden being in charge of her own cooking and cleaning and paying rent on her minuscule apartment in Surrey. Being completely alone and independent in a country you'd never lived in before was not as fun as one might think, and she was already over the initial excitement of not being a child anymore. She wished she was still a child. Some people, she imagined, could adapt to live as a grown up, but Aoife was a small child at heart, and couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the sudden expectation to be entirely self-dependent.

On the bright side, though, she could have possibly maybe found a way to earn some income, at least until she found a tolerable real job. Surely there was a gap in the market for wizard photographers? And since Aoife could just about manage to work a muggle camera, she'd looked into it and found out that wizard photos weren't much difference. So she'd decided that she was going to find someone either to work for or sell her photos to. Which was why she'd manage to get herself an interview with a witches magazine through a lot of sheer determination and stubbornness in the form of a lot of persistent letters. She realised it was unlikely she would be hired, but it was worth a shot. She had to start somewhere, after all.

But she arrived in London an hour or two earlier than necessary, so she ended up taking a detour to Diagon Alley just to kill some time, and maybe look for a book on the magic photo development solution which she was only okayish at brewing at the moment. But as usual, she found herself distracted and headed into the quidditch shop before she could reach the book store. The shiny new broom model had caught her eye, and despite not having the need for it, or the money, it was still a beautiful sight to behold. She could afford, however, one of those nice quidditch magazines, so she found herself gravitating towards the display and trying to chose between magazines.

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Colton White

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PostSubject: Re: Pretending to be an Adult (Open!)   Fri Sep 18, 2015 4:19 am

Colton wasn't sure how someone who played for the Irish National Quidditch Team could end up in so many places that weren't Ireland so often. Yet, here he was again in London, just finishing up an interview with someone from the Daily Prophet. And, since he was already there, he decided to take a stroll about London. After wandering the muggle shops for a while, where he'd be less likely to be recognized, Colton decided to head into Diagon Alley. Where he was sure to be recognized. But after three years of playing professional quidditch, Colton was finally catching on to the how-to-be-famous thing. He'd never be completely comfortable with being stared at all the time, and his autograph hadn't gotten any better, but it was a lot easier now to walk down the street and ignore the head-turning. And since he was never one to hide from the public, people seemed to be getting used to seeing him around, and as such weren't nearly as concerned with his presence. In Ireland, at least, where he lived.

As he entered the crowded magical street, Colton smiled. There was something uniquely charming about the place - they didn't have anything like it in Middlemarch. It only took him a few seconds to decide where his first stop would be, and before long he was standing at the counter of Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlor, trying to decide what to order. "I'll have the roasted marshmallow, please," he decided. The girl waiting on him was incredibly nice, and he tipped her generously as he left. When he re-entered the bustling street, he didn't have any further plan about where to go. Instead, he just wandered, until he finally ended up outside of none other than Quality Quidditch Supplies. That was ironic, wasn't it? Colton hesitated outside of the shop, because - well, there really wasn't any need to go in. His manager took care of ordering him all of his preferred equipment, nearly everything he owned was custom made, and there simply wasn't anything he could buy that he didn't already own.

Yet, his feet dragged him inside anyway, and as soon as he entered he was glad he'd gone in. A wide grin spread across his face as he scanned the array of supplies and broomsticks and equipment. He'd almost forgotten what it was like, browsing the quidditch shop at home as a kid, staring in awe at the latest models - dreaming that one day, he'd have all of it. And now he did, but he would never forget that this was where his love for the sport started. He was looking at the broom polishing kits along the wall when his eyes were unconsciously drawn by a shocking head of red hair. He simply observed as a young woman entered the shop, taking only a moment to stare appreciatively at the newest model of broomstick sitting on the display, before heading toward the magazine racks, right where Colton was standing. He smiled at her when she neared him. "It's not as great as they advertise it to be," he said to her, inclining his head toward the broomstick. "It's a pretty thing, and it's damn fast, but it's rough on the turns," he continued.

His eyes glanced toward the magazines in front of her, wondering if his face was on any of them. If it wasn't on the cover, it would likely to at least be inside a few of them. Though, chances were if this girl was looking at quidditch magazines in a quidditch shop, she'd unfortunately recognize him without the extra hint. Not to mention, she looked as Irish as anyone he'd ever seen, and he did play on the Irish international team.

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PostSubject: Re: Pretending to be an Adult (Open!)   Tue Sep 22, 2015 8:54 pm

Aoife stared at the magazines with a look of deep concentration on her face, trying to decide which was the best just from the front cover, and whether she should choose one new to her, or stick with one of her regular purchases. Seeker Weekly? It had the Lithuanian team on it, and she liked the Lithuanian quidditch team a lot, even if they were a bit shit at quidditch. They looked like nice people, which was good. It made her reach hesitantly out to pick up the magazine, before hastily dropping it again and casting her eyes to the top shelf. She had to make sure she'd considered all the options, of course. And it may take a while, because this shop had a lot of options. Tilting her head to the side slightly, she wondered what her life had come to that she was unemployed, with no ambitions, unable to afford a new broomstick, and spending her life standing in a quidditch shop trying to choose between equally quidditch-filled quidditch magazines. Oh well.

When someone started speaking, it took her a second to realise that it was to her, and another to tear her attention away from the magazines for long enough to catch any of the jumble of words. Her eyes remained on the shelves, though. Ah, but it was okay because this person was talking about quidditch. Brooms, in particular. And it was nice to hear what he had to say. "Good," Aoife nodded. "I wasn't going to get it anyway." So she'd obviously saved herself the great misfortune of being let down when the broom was not as wonderful as she had expected. Although maybe the bad turns was a reasonable sacrifice to make for such good speed. "Do you have one?" she wondered aloud, all of a sudden curious as to how he could be such an expert on the fairly new, ridiculously expensive broom. Maybe he was talking rubbish and he knew even less about the technicalities of the broom than Aoife did.

She let her mind wander back to the magazines and found herself humming some shitty muggle song quietly. But then, once she'd decided for certain that Seeker Weekly was certainly the right choice,  she actually looked up for the first time, and saw the person. Who looked awfully immediately recognisable, and she gasped dramatically. The accent made sense. But why was he here? Not in Ireland, training so that Ireland would win the next world cup? Disappointing. Aoife could probably do a better job at professional quidditch than half of her country's team. Maybe that was what she should do. No, she was crap. "You are that Australian git, right?" Just checking. She often got faces and names mixed up, and for all she knew this could be someone completely different. "Can you, like, sign something?" she added quickly, reaching to find something in her bag. Or, hey, a magazine! She placed Seeker Weekly back once again, and scanned the display for something with his face on. This could be worth millions. And then she could get that broomstick.

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Colton White

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PostSubject: Re: Pretending to be an Adult (Open!)   Sat Sep 26, 2015 3:11 pm

Colton reached for a quaffle on the shelf, tossing it in the air absentmindedly to keep his hands busy. The girl hadn't noticed him in the slightest, and he smiled in amusement as she continued to intensely search through the magazines, only half-answering him. It wasn't that Colton thought that everyone should notice him - conceited wasn't in his nature. But most people did, and it was a bit funny that someone so interested in Quidditch magazines wouldn't realize she was speaking to a quidditch star. But in all honesty, it was pretty nice to only be a part of the background for once, like most people were, so he just leaned back against the shelves and enjoyed the moment. It also gave him the chance to get a better look at the girl - not in a creepy, predator like way, of course. She looked young, possibly still in school, though she could be a year or two out. She was pretty, with long red hair and bright eyes, and although she clearly didn't compare to someone like - say, Darcy Wilde - the way her brow furrowed as though choosing a magazine was the most important decision of her life was endearing in it's own way

It seemed to take her a moment to decide that she wanted to continue the conversation, and when she did, she asked if he owned one. "I don't," he said, shaking his head although she wouldn't see it. She was too busy deciding on Seeker Weekly, which Colton thought was a decent choice - though not as good as ProQuidditch in his opinion. "But I did test it, as a prototype," he added, trying to spin the quaffle on his finger and failing miserably - it was a talent he'd just never managed to get the hang of. The ball toppled to the floor and he reached down to snatch it before it could roll away. "I prefer the Firebolt III though, even though it's a bit older. You can't beat the simplicity of it. The new brooms are too flashy for me, personally."

It was sort of interesting, how he could see the moment she'd officially made her decision settle on her face. And then she looked up and he smiled at her when she met his eyes. Colton raised an eyebrow in amusement at her gasp, but otherwise remained still, waiting to see what the rest of her reaction entailed. Some women were incredibly obnoxious and threw themselves at him, some acted as if they'd known him their whole life when he'd never even seen them before. And if this girl turned out to be like that, he'd probably regret initiating a conversation with her. But her response was surprisingly refreshing, and he laughed. "Actually, I'm that git from New Zealand, which isn't the same thing by the way," he corrected her, but was now grinning because it was so nice to meet somebody who didn't know every single thing about his life. "And I'd bet a thousand galleons you're extremely Irish," he added, certain of it now because of her accent. Colton had gotten so used to people asking him to sign things by now that it hardly even phased him when she asked.

"Sure," he said good-naturedly, approaching her and grabbing a copy of QUAFFLE, which he already knew had a picture of the entire Ireland team on the cover. Using the counter, he pulled out a permanent marker that he'd learned to keep on his person, and scribbled his absolutely terrible signature across it. "And the magazine's on me," he added, capping his marker and handing the magazine back to her. But, not in a rush to go anywhere, he decided to continue the conversation. "And I guess I don't need to introduce myself but I will anyway - Colton. And you?" And then after another moment he added, "So, do you play?"

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Aoife O'Donnell
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PostSubject: Re: Pretending to be an Adult (Open!)   Sun Dec 27, 2015 4:16 pm

Aoife wasn't quite sure what his point was - sure simplicity was great, and antique brooms were great, but that didn't make them any better than newer, improved models did it? "Yeah, but doesn't all the flashy stuff actually make the broom better?" she frowned. "Even if it's not good at turns or whatever, if it's... faster and stronger and better, doesn't that give you a huge advantage over an opponent with an older, slower broom?" She was no professional quidditch player, but she had no idea what was good about simplicity in a broom. "Maybe this is why nobody thinks Ireland will come first this season," she sighed. Because their star Australian player didn't know enough about brooms and stuff. They should totally hire her. And then she wouldn't need to be embarrassed to be Irish, because her team would be the greatest of all the teams. Like they used to be. "Whatever, I just think it does more than look prettier than the old one." And it did look incredibly pretty.

By this point she'd turned almost all of her attention away from the magazine and was focusing on the real life famous quidditch player instead, trying her best not to feel starstruck and look stupid. He was just an average person from New Zealand. "Yeah, whatever, I never claimed to be an expert in Oceania accents," she grinned. "I'm not stupid, I know they're different. New Zealand is the one with all the sheep, isn't it? Like, ten times as many sheep as people?" Which would mean that it was much more likely a sheep from New Zealand would be standing next to her right now, rather than a man. Unfortunately, though, against the odds, there were no sheep in the shop at this current moment. "It's like that in Wales, too. Apparently." She may not be an accents expert, but she was totally a sheep expert. "Your accent is adorable, though, even if I couldn't tell it apart from an Australian," she added. Adorable in a kind of 'that's-a-cute-baby' kind of way, like she wanted to squeeze his little cheeks.

"Are you stereotyping the Irish and assuming my nationality just because of my bright red hair?" she gasped, not actually serious. "If I could prove to you that I'm actually Northern Irish would you give me that thousand galleons? Or Scottish. I could do Scottish," she added in a very weak, possibly offensive Scottish accent. She laughed. "Maybe not. Anyway, how can someone be extremely Irish? You're either Irish or you're not. And I wouldn't say I'm anymore Irish than another Irish person." She held back a squeal when he picked a magazine to sign. There was no way she could sell that, however much she wanted a nice expensive broomstick. She'd probably frame it or something, when she bought an apartment. It would be some family heirloom, super valuable and cool. Wow, she'd never met a real famous person before, this was amazing. Unless you counted Morgana Gaunt. Aoife was pretty sure she was almost the Minister or Magic by now. Ministress? But that probably didn't count, because Morgana didn't like her much. And she'd never signed anything for Aoife. But this well known international quidditch player had. Which meant she was practically famous by association!

He did kind of need to introduce himself because Aoife hadn't actually remembered his name, just that he was from somewhere near Australia. But she didn't point this out, because he didn't deserve to have his ego damaged. Not everyone knew his name, but it wasn't really his fault for assuming that they did. "Nice to meet you, I'm Aoife," she beamed. "I used to play. Like, at school. But I'm not good enough to play professionally and I don't own a good broomstick, so not anymore. And I don't think you can play solo quidditch, especially not in a village full of muggles." Her mother would be angry if she started flying around the fields smacking heavy flying balls with a big bat and scaring the animals. That was enough to put her off trying it.

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PostSubject: Re: Pretending to be an Adult (Open!)   Wed Jan 20, 2016 6:09 pm

Colton’s lips twitched at the perplexed look on the girl’s face when he said he wasn’t a fan of the new broom. ”Not exactly,” he replied. ”Or, I should say, not always.” It wasn’t that all new brooms were bad. It was just that most of them weren’t nearly as reliable. ”It’s more a matter of whether you want to get the job done efficiently, or look cool doing it,” he told her with a shrug. ”Speed isn’t everything. Though I may be a bit biased as a keeper – it’s much more practical for me to have a broom that favors agility over speed.” Keepers tended to need the sensitivity in order to navigate the smaller space in which they normally played. He raised an eyebrow in amusement at her comment about Ireland, but didn’t say anything. They had one of the best teams in the circuit. Colton knew that because he’d originally played for New Zealand, which was a rather shitty one. On first impression, this girl definitely seemed like someone who let her opinions influence her reality, and she definitely didn’t seem to like to be wrong. Being that a professional had given her advice and she’d ignored it. It didn’t offend him – in fact, it was still a bit refreshing that she’d disagreed with him. It was just an observation.

He grinned back at her nevertheless when she went on about his accent, but couldn’t hide the slightly puzzled expression when she brought up sheep. ”Er, yes, there are a lot of sheep I suppose,” he replied, his voice amused. It wasn’t that she was wrong – it was just not normally what people said when New Zealand was brought up. Most people just gushed about how they’d heard it was beautiful and wanted to visit. So far, this girl had proven to be quite unique. Which was why he was actually a bit surprised when she complimented his accent. ”Thanks, I haven’t heard that before,” he replied lightly, shaking his head. His grin widened when she replied to his Irish comment. ”Yes,” he replied instantly, his eyes flickering to her hair again. ”Hair, accent, complexion – no, you’re definitely not Scottish.” Her Scottish accent was terrible. ”Well, I’m a bit Irish. Not much. You’d never know, really. You on the other hand…” he trailed off, because in any case he was right.

He almost laughed out loud when she told him her name. ”Like I said. Extremely Irish,” he repeated. He listened with real interest when she said she used to play. ”Well, you must have been good enough if you played for your school team. What position?” he asked, though by looking at her he’d peg her for a seeker. She was thin, obviously light, and she liked brooms that went fast. It would make sense. Though, at the same time, he had a feeling judging this girl by the cover wasn’t going to lead him to the right conclusion. ”Where in Ireland do you live?” he asked her, when she mentioned a muggle villiage. ”I’ve got a place in Dublin.”

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