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sweetpinkpixie · 04-18-2026, 10:18 AM

CJ blinked at her like she’d just switched languages mid-sentence. Not normal talking—like Ancient Runes level stuff. Or Gobbledegook. Honestly… this might just be how British sounded, and no one had warned him.

Okay, well, actually, to be FAIR... dad had warned him. Multiple times. Much to mom's irritation. How his dad had managed to woo mom was now a huge mystery to him.

There was a pause.

A loooooooooooooong one.

"…I heard numbers," he said finally, with full sincerity, "but I'm gonna be real with you — nooooooooooone of those meant anything to me. Are you sure that was British?"

His brows knit slightly as he looked back down at the tags, like if he stared hard enough they might rearrange themselves into something friendlier. New numbering system, weird names… yeah, this felt personal. Like someone invented it just to mess with people who didn’t like math.

Which ― rude.

Then again, dragots were all fractions and those also made his head hurt, so maybe this was just confirmation that money and him were not meant to have a future together.

Wait. No, there was no way to salvage that thought and have it make sense.

Then his attention dropped back down to the pile in his arms, which was starting to shift in a mildly threatening way.

"Whadda mean, committ?" he asked, readjusting everything before the magazines made a break for freedom. "I'm committing. This is commitment." He lifted his arms slightly. "Essentials. Important stuff."

Okay, yeah, maybe a couple things in there were… not essential. But that wasn't the point.

"I gotta catch up on how things work over here," he went on. "So I don't walk into tryouts lookin' like I have no idea what's going on. And also—" he nodded his head vaguely, rolling it to indicate the whole of everything, "—the British of everything."

He huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head a little.

"But yeah, hard agree, I’m not doing the math,” he concluded, easy grin slipping back into place. "That’s a future me problem. Or—" he nodded toward her, just slightly, "—a you problem, apparently. Since the numbers make sense to you and you obviously speak British, and I think my brain is still somewhere over the Atlantic trying to catch up."

He shifted the stack in his arms again. Gosh was he just one zepher away from disaster.

"Show mercer on the new transfer and stick around and translate for me so I don't just dump a whole bunch of coin on the counter and make it the shopkeeper's problem?"

04-18-2026, 10:18 AM	#68 (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	astronomizzle ♧ gryffinDORK \| & the rest is drag ♣ #badluckDerf CJ blinked at her like she’d just switched languages mid-sentence. Not normal talking—like Ancient Runes level stuff. Or Gobbledegook. Honestly… this might just be how British sounded, and no one had warned him. Okay, well, actually, to be FAIR... dad had warned him. Multiple times. Much to mom's irritation. How his dad had managed to woo mom was now a huge mystery to him. There was a pause. A loooooooooooooong one. "…I heard numbers," he said finally, with full sincerity, "but I'm gonna be real with you — nooooooooooone of those meant anything to me. Are you sure that was British?" His brows knit slightly as he looked back down at the tags, like if he stared hard enough they might rearrange themselves into something friendlier. New numbering system, weird names… yeah, this felt personal. Like someone invented it just to mess with people who didn’t like math. Which ― rude. Then again, dragots were all fractions and those also made his head hurt, so maybe this was just confirmation that money and him were not meant to have a future together. Wait. No, there was no way to salvage that thought and have it make sense. Then his attention dropped back down to the pile in his arms, which was starting to shift in a mildly threatening way. "Whadda mean, committ?" he asked, readjusting everything before the magazines made a break for freedom. "I'm committing. This is commitment." He lifted his arms slightly. "Essentials. Important stuff." Okay, yeah, maybe a couple things in there were… not essential. But that wasn't the point. "I gotta catch up on how things work over here," he went on. "So I don't walk into tryouts lookin' like I have no idea what's going on. And also—" he nodded his head vaguely, rolling it to indicate the whole of everything, "*—the British of everything." He huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head a little. "But yeah, hard agree, I’m not doing the math,” he concluded, easy grin slipping back into place. "That’s a future me problem. Or—" he nodded toward her, just slightly, "—a you problem, apparently. Since the numbers make sense to you and you obviously speak British, and I think my brain is still somewhere over the Atlantic trying to catch up." He shifted the stack in his arms again. Gosh was he just one zepher away from disaster. "Show mercer on the new transfer and stick around and translate for me so I don't just dump a whole bunch of coin on the counter and make it the shopkeeper's problem?*" __________________ 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