I am tall.
I drink my tea black, sweet and scalding.
Combining the above statements illustrates why, when I trip over mid-beverage, it is a long way down, and the experience is not improved by abrupt surface-sterilisation of my arm.
Ow.
Locked to the Order
'Trip'.
I've never known my shoelaces to writhe before.
Gone off on one again, has she
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So is flying glass, when it is aimed for your eyes. It is a good thing that I know how to dodge.
She is not in a pleasant mood. And neither is Severus, and you do not have to deal with both of them.
Perhaps you could speak with your uncle and tell him that it will be better if he did not to antagonise her?
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And I've spoken to Dave although I rather get the impression that there were considerably more influential factors in that little exchange, on the subject of 'not making things worse', although Merlin-knows if he'll actually listen.
I did use small words.
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And I've got a cache of the more... unusual... things from the last time I called on her for supplies. Since she'll know what they actually are.
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