Dressed himself? In...the dark? Offering Paul a series of quizzical looks ranging from simple disbelief to complete horror, the astronomer pursed his lips and slowly nodded his head up and down. Not in approval...just to acknowledge that he had, in fact, heard what the man had had to say. "I...concur...on wrinkles," he said slowly, giving Pebbles a side glance while mouthing 'sweet solstice to her. But what came next was a MUCH welcomed distraction. "Stellar!" he nodded, raising his hand to return the gesture again. And, just for good measure, he would repeat the greeting. "Dif tor heh smusma."
Which reminded him of Mr. Adair. Had the boy ever mastered the expression? The Head of House couldn't help but hope that somewhere the former Head Boy was still practicing.
Oh. Sweet. Solstice. Tears. At least they were not the bitter tears of teenage angst, but they were still tears. So...he was just going to properly excuse himself. Ahem. "Yes, well...enjoy," he said, taking his leave and scrambling down to the safe side of the table.
Uneventful, good. Airey nodded his head in mild approval at Ansley's words (that had been on the name on the memo, right? RIGHT?!). "A hag? On the train?!" He couldn't say that that was impossible because, well, Hogwarts. But since he had said uneventful...perhaps not? No one had been eaten, right?
Or...no. Too soon to tell. But with Miss Summers disappearing like that....
Squirming in his seat - because women with a TONE were terrifying, even without flaming red hair - his blue eyes flickered towards the unoccupied Ancient Runes seat and then back to Tiara. "It was..." he began, ears noticeably turning a vibrant shade of red. "...stellar." Sweet solstice, was it hot in here? Clearing his throat and adjusting his tie just a smidgen, not that it NEEDED to be adjusted but he really needed something to occupy his hands right now, his vision refocused and he offered further explanation. "I had some business with Mr. Prince over the summer at the Royal Observatory. Bit disciplinary issue from the field trip I took my class on last term. So between that and coordinating the summer Space Camp at the National Space Centre, it was quite busy."
Just the way he preferred things. Being idle gave the man anxiety.
AND THEN THERE WAS CONTACT ON HIS SHOULDER!?
Snapping his head around, Airey gave Justin a proper stink eye. Don't. Touch. The. Suit. Dude. "Quite," he replied through a tight lip smile.
Watching as the Groundskeeper moved far away from his freshly pressed suit, he turned his attention back to Tiara and this, er, seat discussion. "Well, you see, there is aaah...that perfectly fine seat there next to you. Rather inviting really..."
And another interruption in the form of...oh the new Care of Magical Creatures professor. Instinctively scooting to the edge of his seat on the side of Tiara, Airey gave the fellow a few attentive looks up and down. He was even tempted to cast Oculus Focalis on his eyes to make absolutely sure that the man did not have any follicles of doom on his clothing at present. Looked...safe...for now. "House warming gift," he grinned nervously, although his eyes were rather reminiscent of an eager cruppy looking at its master. That sort of annoyingly eager excitement looking for approval and acceptance. "It's a lint roller. Helps keep fur and other unwanted animal dandruff off your clothes," he explained. Did he like it? Jedi mind trick time? You will like this lint roller. This is the lint roller you are looking for...
And any connection or familiarity between the two of them? Completely oblivious. Ho ho .... ho.
Leobald received a small salute and smile as he made his way past. Your goblet was safe for tonight. No promises about tomorrow. "Evening, Leobald," he greeted. "Quite pleasant. Yes. Oh and busy. Yes" And the color was back in his ears.
And it was nice to see that the man had not met his untimely demise at the claws of those ferocious beasts of Cassiopeia's. Vicious things. Vicious.
He offered another Vulcan salute to the new Potions Master as he approached the dais, catching sight of the new Transfiguration professor gaping at him. What? What had he done now?
Roderik Hirsch. Right. Professor Not Sabel, got it. Airey offered the man a curt nod and quick salute. The Charms professor's line of sight took him out to the Sorting taking place. Chest puffing out with pride for those now joining the...PRIDE...Airey offered a loud round of applause to those newly sorted to Gryffindor. He would make his way down to the table in due time, but for now it would be up to Sir Nicholas and his prefects to make sure that everything was taken care of.
Looking back to Tiara again - because seat switcheroo? - his nose reacted before anything else could. The stench...which made the detention he had given Mr. Gunter after he had thrown up on the professor's shoes...was beyond awful and was making his eyes water. But that wasn't the worst of it. Oh no.
..............
.............. ..............
Eyes widening and jaw clenching, Airey felt as though he were about to faint and spontaneously combust at the same time. His suit. His FRESHLY PRESSED suit. His suit that now matched the color of his face. No, wait, his face was a much more vibrant color now.
Much.
Feeling his teeth grinding against one another - a wonder something had not chipped or broken right off, really - the man opened his mouth to speak but absolutely NO sound came out. None. The vein in his forehead began to BULGE when
Meri-berry GREETED the woman-thing-hag and WELCOMED her.
Divination? So they hadn't rid the school of that subject of pseudo scientific hokum? But had, in fact, hired this person WHO HAD JUST RUINED HIS SUIT AND WAS SPOUTING COMPLETE AND UTTER RUBBISH?! MERI-BERRY HAD BETRAYED HIM!
Vein bursting - not really because ew gross - Airey jumped to his feet, knocking his knees against the under side of the table and clenched his hands into tight fists in front of his face and had even allowed Pebbles to roll off his lap and on to the floor with a dull thud.
And
Tiara?
NOT APPRECIATED. WELL AWARE, THANK YOU VERY MUCH. OR NO THANK YOU. "SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUIT!" he
roared in anguish, baring his teeth and gripping his hands so tightly that his knuckles were turning white.
"SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUIT!"
And then, because he had completely forgotten that his lungs required oxygen to function properly the past minute or so, the Astronomy professor became increasingly lightheaded and keeled over backwards as his vision went all white first, then the putrid color of the contamination on his suit and then fade to black.
Lights out, Flamsteed.