06.16.1978 || Diagon Alley || Chrysandra and Charity
“I’ll take care of it when I come,” Charity yelled behind her as she stepped onto the main street. It was her lunch time, an she wasn’t going to deal with the mess until after. She was already running just a little bit late for her lunch date with Chrysandra, and Charity was not a big fan of being late. Walking to the cafe she was going to meet her friend at, her eyes did not fail to notice that not many people were out. It was the war, the one thing anyone working in Dagon Alley did no talk about. If she could, Charity would just stay home and never come out, but she had to work. She couldn’t just stay couped up in the house all the time. That would just be hitting a new low. Shaking her head of war thoughts, Charity approached the cafe, looking forward to some happy talk with Chrysandra. Though the girl was younger than her by about ten years, she found it very easy to talk to her, and was glad to have become friends with her when she had. Stepping inside, she spotted her and put on a sheepish smile. “Sorry, sorry, I know I’m late. How was your day?” she asked, sitting down across from her.
Chrysandra smiled when she saw Charity enter the cafe. She waved off her apologies easily. “Don’t worry about it, dear. I wasn’t waiting long, and besides, I’m sure it wasn’t your fault.” She had never worked in retail, but the idea sounded horrifying. What she was doing now did have to do with selling things, but it was all special orders and custom potions. They didn’t even really have a shop; it was more like an office with the storeroom and the brewing laboratory attached. “And I’ve been fine. It’s just me today brewing, so I can basically do whatever I want as long as I get the orders done, too.” She was hopefully about one thing in particular she was working on, but she didn't’t want to tell anyone until it was a bit more developed, in case it didn't’ take at all. “But how have you been? You look a bit... well.” She didn’t want to insult her friend, but she did want to know if something was wrong. “Put-upon, I suppose would be the word.”
















