There are very few things a change of scenery like that can't help. Did you end up giving Theodore what you'd orginally intended for Christmas, by the way?
It's so typical of a certain mindset to work itself into a lather when times are good and there's no risk of being asked to commit to a dangerous cause. Where was that great nancing Homopuff when those Muggleborns he's so upset about now were actually being attacked?
Oh, the suit, you mean? Yes, I sent Mr Angel out to pick it up, though. I didn't want a repeat of the episode that occurred when I ventured out to get it myself. I've not had a single head-ache since I've been here, you know. It's very nice.
Hm, yes. It is quite the luxury to not have to commit to anything isn't it, Adrian? And I am not sure who you mean by great nancing Homopuff, as there are too many who fit that description. I suppose you might be referring to Potter?
Theodore's suits don't give you headaches, though. Maybe all you need is carefully mediated exposure to Muggle things and your attacks will subside entirely.
Not Potter, though he fits that description as well as anyone and would've been there if his publicist hadn't intervened. In this case, I meant the Hufflewoofter whose nose I Davies broke last Spring. He's trying on a political conscience the way some women try on robes; it's all devastatingly important - until the next trend catches their fancy.
It's Theodore who is wearing them though, isn't it? I don't want expos I think it may be foolhardy to experiment with exposing myself to such things, given the incident that occured at that "sweat shop" place. Living in London is exposure enough, really, what with the fumes, the noise, and the people. If anything were to cure me, surely London itself would have by now. It's just a matter of coping, really, and I've been doing that long enough.
Davies and an injured Hufflepoof? That incident must have slipped my attention. If political activism is fashionable they might as well have their fun, and I'll take passing note of the fact that keeping innocents locked up would seem to be equally in style for 2006.
Do they call you that, then? I can't say I've ever listened much to what they have to say. I'm a little hard of hearing when I want to be. So is Dodger, actually. Must run in the family.
Spellotaping in photographs gives a visual to the reader. It also provides memories for the Spellotaper. It has nothing to do with one's supposed sexual orientation.
And I am so glad I am out of the country for this Greengrass fiasco. I have to work in the Ministry, as you well know, and I do not fancy having to work my way through a crowd of histrionic Mudb Muggleborns to get to my office.
Photographs don't provide memories. Memories provide memories. I'd rather look at the mossy pinecone I picked up outside when I want to remember. I have a whole box full of trinkets and things like that. A few are connected to you, you know.
Perhaps the Ministry can set up a floo that goes inside directly so that you don't have to cope with that when the time comes for you to return from that place.
Photographs preserve memories in ways that a pinecone cannot. That having been said, however, I like that you keep trinkets. What do you have that remind you of me?
I'll have to suggest that, if it's not implemented by the time I return.
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It's so typical of a certain mindset to work itself into a lather when times are good and there's no risk of being asked to commit to a dangerous cause. Where was that great nancing Homopuff when those Muggleborns he's so upset about now were actually being attacked?
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Hm, yes. It is quite the luxury to not have to commit to anything isn't it, Adrian? And I am not sure who you mean by great nancing Homopuff, as there are too many who fit that description. I suppose you might be referring to Potter?
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Not Potter, though he fits that description as well as anyone and would've been there if his publicist hadn't intervened. In this case, I meant the Hufflewoofter whose nose I Davies broke last Spring. He's trying on a political conscience the way some women try on robes; it's all devastatingly important - until the next trend catches their fancy.
And they call me a hypocrite.
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Davies and an injured Hufflepoof? That incident must have slipped my attention. If political activism is fashionable they might as well have their fun, and I'll take passing note of the fact that keeping innocents locked up would seem to be equally in style for 2006.
Do they call you that, then? I can't say I've ever listened much to what they have to say. I'm a little hard of hearing when I want to be. So is Dodger, actually. Must run in the family.
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They might have wanted to see who went split-splat first. Isn't it just the most barbaric thing you've ever heard of?
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How did you get sunburn and not me? I'm a little fairer, I think.
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I think it was falling asleep yesterday that did it. Sunburn in December, of all things.
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And I'll fix you right up, promise.
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And I am so glad I am out of the country for this Greengrass fiasco. I have to work in the Ministry, as you well know, and I do not fancy having to work my way through a crowd of histrionic Mudb Muggleborns to get to my office.
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Perhaps the Ministry can set up a floo that goes inside directly so that you don't have to cope with that when the time comes for you to return from that place.
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I'll have to suggest that, if it's not implemented by the time I return.
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