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Daniel had every intention of getting in and out of Diagon Alley as quickly as you could say ‘Pepper-Up Potion’ and yet not long after he had entered the store like a Abraxan with tunnel vision did a voice ring out calling his name. He turned to his left, the usual stoic and unimpressed expression gracing the thirty-three year, to see a familiar face looking back at him.
At least there was somewhat of a mutual agreement that the pair didn’t particularly want to socialise with one another and yet with the closeness of their families, they felt compelled to not ignore each other's existence. Ordinarily Daniel would’ve made no effort to respond to a random greeting on the street but it had been instilled in the Broadmoor that the Amsterns were practically family. His mother, the only person who could make him do anything just by one pleading look (perhaps now with the exception of his child whose fondness for had been growing since discovering her existence), would’ve been most disappointed had she heard that Daniel had left Luke ‘on read’.
“Luke” the man nodded cordially back, briefly glancing down at the ingredients in the other's hands. “It appears we are both searching for the same things.” By that he meant ingredients for healing potions, ones he recognised instantaneously as he was consistently brewing them for his mother’s supply. He was glad she was no longer working with children so often, the little beasts were constantly full of bugs and germs which he did not wish to be shared with him but the university students appeared to be equally as germ-ridden. Perhaps it was the stress?
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