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sweetpinkpixie · 04-14-2026, 01:59 AM

"Okay. Yo. Yeeeeeeeeeah," he breathed, fists pumping as he stepped inside. "This is SICK."

He drifted forward without any real direction, fingers brushing along the handles of display brooms as he passed and doubling back at least six times because something else caught his eye too late.

Quidditch wasn't a word that was too foreign in his mouth ― not like hyetal, which was his 'smart person word-of-the-day' and he thought he would be able to knock out of the park immediately given he had heard England forever had a hyetal drizzle hanging over it. Apparently that wasn't the case, just like quidditch was a different shape than quodpot. Different rules, different flow. He missed the chaos of it, the explosions, the point of it all... OH WELL!

CJ paused in front of a line of racing brooms, rocking back onto his heels as he squinted at the tags.

"…one hundred and—" he leaned closer, lips moving silently as he tried to piece it together. "—galleons… and… sickles… wait—how many is—that feels like a lot."

He nodded to himself, very certain in that completely uncertain way, before drifting on. It didn't take long before he found the sports supplies section, and that was where he stopped for real, for real.

CJ crouched slightly to grab a pair of goggles, turning them over in his hands with a small frown. His last pair had not survived the move. Not TECHNICALLY the move's fault, but—well, no need to dwell on the past. If you were hanging halfway out a window trying to see if you could feel the wind difference, casualties were kind of expected.

From there, his attention immediately derailed — because of course it did ― but he at least had sense enough to tuck the goggles under his arm as he moved.

"Sweet!"

He pivoted hard toward a nearby display, already reaching for a Broomstick Servicing Kit, flipping it open just enough to peek inside before adding it to the growing pile in his arms anyway. And then because he had zero self-control, he snagged a pair of magazines on the way by as he made his way towards the counter.

"…okay," he said slowly, like he was about to attempt something deeply complicated: math. "So that's one galleon… and… two galleons… and ten sickles plus 5 sickles and 4 knuts —" His lips moved again, silently counting, expression scrunching up like he was sucking on a mouthful of citric acid. "…I swear... I knew how to add back home."

He shifted his weight, glancing vaguely around the shop like the answer might be written somewhere on the walls, before exhaling a quiet laugh at himself.

“Alright—yeah—no, I’m gonna need someone who speaks British.”

Not that he wasn't one. ~~Don't tell mom~~.

04-14-2026, 01:59 AM	#66 (permalink)
sweetpinkpixie SSRPG Admin Gladrags Mod Quibbler Mod Minister for Magic Alley Proprietor Sea Serpent Join Date: Aug 2010 Location: The Paths Posts: 41,560 Hogwarts RPG Name: Professor Cox Ravenclaw Graduated Hogwarts RPG Name: CJ Miller Gryffindor Fourth Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Nyle Harden Hufflepuff Seventh Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Iris Harden Ravenclaw Seventh Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Jae-hyuk Anouilh Slytherin Seventh Year Ministry Department Head: Charles Hollingberry Minister's Office Ministry Department Head: Airey Flamsteed Mysteries Diagon Alley Proprietor: Victor García Massey Ollivanders x12 x12	for Sammy :3 astronomizzle ♧ gryffinDORK \| & the rest is drag ♣ #badluckDerf "Okay. Yo. Yeeeeeeeeeah," he breathed, fists pumping as he stepped inside. "This is SICK." He drifted forward without any real direction, fingers brushing along the handles of display brooms as he passed and doubling back at least six times because something else caught his eye too late. Quidditch wasn't a word that was too foreign in his mouth ― not like hyetal, which was his 'smart person word-of-the-day' and he thought he would be able to knock out of the park immediately given he had heard England forever had a hyetal drizzle hanging over it. Apparently that wasn't the case, just like quidditch was a different shape than quodpot. Different rules, different flow. He missed the chaos of it, the explosions, the point of it all... OH WELL! CJ paused in front of a line of racing brooms, rocking back onto his heels as he squinted at the tags. "…one hundred and—" he leaned closer, lips moving silently as he tried to piece it together. "—galleons… and… sickles… wait—how many is—that feels like a lot." He nodded to himself, very certain in that completely uncertain way, before drifting on. It didn't take long before he found the sports supplies section, and that was where he stopped for real, for real. CJ crouched slightly to grab a pair of goggles, turning them over in his hands with a small frown. His last pair had not survived the move. Not TECHNICALLY the move's fault, but—well, no need to dwell on the past. If you were hanging halfway out a window trying to see if you could feel the wind difference, casualties were kind of expected. From there, his attention immediately derailed — because of course it did ― but he at least had sense enough to tuck the goggles under his arm as he moved. "Sweet!" He pivoted hard toward a nearby display, already reaching for a Broomstick Servicing Kit, flipping it open just enough to peek inside before adding it to the growing pile in his arms anyway. And then because he had zero self-control, he snagged a pair of magazines on the way by as he made his way towards the counter. "…okay," he said slowly, like he was about to attempt something deeply complicated: math. "So that's one galleon… and… two galleons… and ten sickles plus 5 sickles and 4 knuts —" His lips moved again, silently counting, expression scrunching up like he was sucking on a mouthful of citric acid. "…I swear... I knew how to add back home." He shifted his weight, glancing vaguely around the shop like the answer might be written somewhere on the walls, before exhaling a quiet laugh at himself. “Alright—yeah—no, I’m gonna need someone who speaks British.” Not that he wasn't one. ~~Don't tell mom~~. __________________ We broke into a million pieces, and we can't go back......................................... But now we're seeing all the beauty in the broken glass..................................... The scars are part of me, darkness and harmony My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like