 very nervous man. much twitch around the potential of tears. and anything Bunz astronomizzle ♧ gryffinDORK | & the rest is drag ♣ #badluckDerf
Airey too was very much allergic to dust. Dust or anything really that risks causing his eye ducts to secret liquid. So, really, this entire situation he had found himself in right now he was also allergic to. Terribly inconsiderate of you, Mr. Truebridge, to not be more respectful of such things.
......ahem.
The young Truebridge was not the only one straightening in his seat. He was rather sure that that was not how that word was meant to be pronounced, or perhaps the department head was in his head and causing his own ears to mishear. Whichever the case, his tie was entirely too tight around his neck for this. "Gravel, very clever," he coughed before reaching over for his tea to lightly sip on. "You know, as a young lad I had such aspirations of joining the The Geological Society...and veer its interest towards the geoscience of space. After all, us space and planetary scientists search for clues in the rocks, dust, gas and other matter to seek an understanding of the formation and development of planets, moons, stars and perhaps other life in our universe. Would have attempted to start a club at Hogwarts if I felt the interest there...or if I had been even remotely popular enough for such a thing." Anything, literally anything, to move conversation away from graves and deceased red heads even if it meant some embarrassment.
Rather embarrassment than tears.
Except it seemed Mr. Truebridge did not receive the memo - the one where they did not discuss his mother.
"I certainly h---..." The rest of that thought was that he certainly HOPED NOT. That one Anastasia Truebridge would suddenly appear some day to haunt him. The man's face rather resembled an Edvard Munch piece save for his hands, fingers, being molded over his knees and squeezing them firmly. If he kept a stress ball, he would be squeezing that right now while he took a couple more moments to collect his thoughts and shift into a stoic neutral. "Only so much in my mentor and former colleague Marion Burbage..." he continued after a complete tonal change. "...and that her haunting as a ghost is directly associated to the location of her demise in the Tower Patch. Were your mother to return I imagine she would be most drawn to the wooden bridge region of Hogwarts castle." His stomach twisted in knots and he looked down at his hands on his knees. He had not even considered the possibility that Mr. Truebridge may hear his mother whispering through The Veil - though he highly doubted the woman even capable of whispering in the afterlife.
The former Ravenclaw's discomfort oozed him and soaked the air in a heavy and dreary mood that zapped Airey as though struck by lightning.
"...my...assessment is that...were your mother to return as a ghost, it is my understanding that she would be bound to Hogwarts castle..." Which was another terribly unfortunate thought because his sons were there and need not understand why their father was afraid of redheads.
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When you’re stuck in a moment and your spark has been stolen .................................................. ...........
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