ft. peter
“oh. sorry.” it’s pretty obvious that he’s not apologising for asking, and that his words come instead from a place of pity. their ‘stuff’ looked worse for wear, and peter could only assume homelessness. the knight bus was somewhat known for being a home for wayward souls, so that wasn’t in itself a surprise - but his pity didn’t extend to over exerting himself so early in his morning. “use your wand,” he suggests, unhelpfully, making sure to step out of mundungus’ way and allow them more room, “come on, then. we don’t have all night.”
“some employee you are,” mundungus retorted, loudly, in hopes that perhaps someone might overhear their conversation.. if one could call it that. they chuckled at the thought of the other being reprimanded for being rude to a customer, even when the customer in question was mundungus fletcher. “little shit,” they added, this time their words were barely above a whisper as they lifted his bags with a flick of their wand, abruptly pushing past the conductor. “do i pick my seat?” they asked, not waiting for an answer before taking a seat on the first open bunk. they wasted no time making the bed their own, kicking off their shows and folding their arms behind their head.