[ I KNOW WHY THE CAGED BIRD SINGS ]

The caged bird sings, with a fearful trill of things unknown, but longed for still and his tune is heard on the distant hill for the caged bird sings of freedom. Andromeda e. Black. Pureblood. Sixth Year, Slytherin. Prefect. Lover of lavender, honey, tea, the piano, well placed sarcasm & wit, certain types of humor, sunflowers, and order. ❝My problem is that I fall in love with words, rather than actions. I fall in love with ideas and thoughts, instead of reality. And it will be the death of me.❞

[andromedablaxk]

K: The question is, Black, am I really concerned about whether I am a gentleman in your eyes or not?

A: Maybe not, Shacklebolt, but if you'd like to be known as the deviant who highjacked Andromeda Black's personal owls, please, go ahead, wear that title instead proudly.

[andromedablaxk]

K: Oh, I'm a gentleman, now? That one's new, Black.

A: I imagine once you burn that owl I asked you to, you'd achieve the status with ease. At least -- for the time being.

[andromedablaxk]

K: No. And next time, teach your owl to find the recipient of your letter properly. This is Kingsley.

A: My owl does just fine, thank you. Just a simple mistake, that could easily lie with you. And Shacklebolt, always a pleasure -- I'd like to request that you burn that owl immediately like a good gentlemen would.

[andromedablaxk]

A: CISSA, I think the two of us swapped a few items of clothing including a few undergarments that I really need. Do I have permission to go through your clothing?