@wuhlfruin sent a question: “ what i need tonight is a stiff drink. ”
source: priory of the orange tree.
Horace can very much understand the sentiment — for it is a routine of his to end the day with a tumbler of brandy and a bowl of candied pineapple, either in his study, or in the staff common room, where he is sometimes joined by his colleagues. It is here, then, that she finds him, and Horace is glad for the company, unexpected as it is — so late at night ! Pomona retired for the night following a long conversation about the Venomous Tentacula plant, which she wanted to introduce her sixth year class to; Filius and Minerva followed, leaving Horace as the only occupant. That is, until ❝ Miss Reed ! ❞ entered the room. He greets her while leaning back until he meets chair's top rail, and in her direction he bestows a cordial, albeit tired, smile. With a hand, he gestures towards the bottle on the table, whose ochre label identifies it as from a brand sold only at the Three Broomsticks Inn, the Dragon Barrel Brandy. He tells her as much, adding that, should it not be to her taste, there is a bottle of Blishen's Firewhisky not yet opened. Placing his tumbler on the table, Horace busies himself with freeing up some space for the newcomer, closing his ink pot ( here's hoping the ink has not dried ! ), then opening his briefcase, in which he places the graded essays to avoid further confusion. His movements are unhurried, and he turns his head just so, though his gaze follows his actions. He says that he is not leaving with a facetious tone, recognizing that, perhaps, his actions would make her think otherwise. ❝ Please, come, sit ! ❞ and then, ❝ I would very much appreciate the company, ❞ a chortle. ❝ There are some essays left to grade, still, ❞ and he tells her as much conspirationally, almost, leaning forward, nose scrunching up as he squints one eye. He should've graded these essays that morning, and not leave them to do for later. Alas ! Not much to do about that, now ! Horace, now satisfied with how less busy the table is, sits once again with a sigh, and grabs his tumbler and a clean one. ❝ Which one is it going to be, then, Miss Reed ? ❞ he asks, gesturing with the clean tumbler towards the bottle. ❝ Brandy, Firewhisky ... ? ❞
