May 5, 2016
“You there. Got a quill and an inkwell somewhere on you? I’ve got a lot of runes to translate and just a pinch of time.” Grayson ran his hand through his hair, crooked smile spreading across his face, though not far enough to reach pale eyes. “God, I could marry Babbling - our wedding vows would be conspiracy theories about the Ministry recited in tandem in the middle of the streets of London. No idea why I keep skipping her class.
Anyway, quill? Ink? I have a feeling her favorite color would be red.”
