She could hear the sound of people going here and there at the front of the store. Even so, Elliot remained seated behind her desk, her quill gently scratching away at the parchment paper which contained nearly the whole month's worth of purchases, inventory checks, and supply shipments. It had become a fairly long roll, and she knew by now that by next month the next list would be far longer--it always was. The holidays were always the most stressful for her to deal with. A close second was every new school year at Hogwarts; the sheer number of students and parents and any other family member crammed into the store as they sought out necessary texts. She knew she'd have to plan ahead and make orders for textbook shipments soon.

Elliot glanced up, sliding her glasses back up her nose, since they had been slowly sliding down the whole time her head was bowed. Pausing for a moment she began to imagine how crowded with people the store would be within just a few weeks as she rested her chin in her hand. Just a little longer and she'd be on a well deserved holiday. She sighed a moment later and went back to her parchment and quill. She had to admit though, despite needing to keep to herself for a moment in order to keep things running smoothly at Flourish and Blotts, she enjoyed the sound of people there, it got much too quiet in her flat for her liking sometimes.

"Just don't worry about it," she said under her breath, half her mind already home and thinking about the atmosphere already awaiting here there,while the other half was still at the shop. "I'll figure something out..."

Diagon Alley looked a serendipitous sort of mess, with pedestrian-only streets and buildings haphazardly crammed against one another. It was rustic in a way that gave Ambrose a warm sense of adventure. There was something exciting about scuffing his shoes on uneven cobblestone, or gazing at the minute curves of doorframes, knowing that the wood had been hand-turned by someone, somehow, back when woodcarving was a respectable profession. The centuries-old street felt new to Ambrose.

He stood at the stoop of one of the many establishments, hoping to stay out of the way as he took in the details. With the grin on his face, he probably looked more like a giddy tourist than someone who lived nearby.

“Excuse me,” he turned as someone reached past him to the door. Ambrose murmured some pleasantry and slipped inside ahead of them, deciding it would be easier than trying to back out of their way.

Speaking of serendipitous messes! Ambrose stepped aside as he craned his neck to the ceiling-high shelves. How impractical! But also wonderful! How did anyone know what was up there? Did customers Accio and Wingardium Leviosa to browse? Did someone do that for them? Could you even browse, with a setup like this? It must take ages. Ambrose’s polished black shoes clacked softly against the worn hardwood. A bookstore, no doubt—books everywhere-- though he hadn’t caught the name. Signs pointed him to various areas of the store. Ambrose bumped into a shelf as he stared at the upstairs landing.

“Sorry,” he gave the object a reassuring pat as he moved his attention back to his current floor. A small laugh bubbled from him, realizing he must have looked pretty foolish, openly gawking at a mundane shop. And now he quietly chuckled to himself as he meandered around the shelves. Completely inconspicuous, as always. It was far too early to be inebriated, though that wouldn't have been an illogical guess; he had no excuse.

What an interesting place.

Ambrose touched many books and their pretty binding. He looked up at the directional signs often, though it was hard to say if he was looking for something. Either way, the smile on his face made him seem quite content to be doing nothing productive.

Elliot kept writing for a little bit longer, glancing back and forth between the individual purchases over the course of the month and organizing them onto the single scroll. What she didn't realize is that with every other minute that passed she was slowly sinking lower onto her desk, looking more and more like a typical student taking more notes on a lecture than desired--head cocked to the side and resting on their arm as their other hand, far off to the side, wrote. It was a habit she had yet to fully break herself from.

She glanced up again when she heard the bell above the door ring again and a few more folks entered into the shop. One was more used to the shop and went straight for a specific section with a stride of familiarity, but the first one who had slipped in looked like he had wandered in by accident. Elliot placed a heavy tome on top of her scroll to keep it from rolling back up and have her lose her place in the work as she rose to her feet just at the young man who'd wandered in looked about and bumped into shelves here and there.

"Sorry," she heard him say as he patted another bookshelf that he had stumbled into. There was a distinct lack of the English accent she was so used to hearing. Where was he from? Her expression shifted for a moment, one that said poor guy, and then regained herself. Half out of duty, half out of habit, Elliot approached the young man with her usual half smile.

"Hello, welcome to Flourish and Blotts. Is this your first time here?" The question wasn't one she'd usually ask. Usually it was for people she didn't recognize, which didn't happen that often what with the regular group of people that came by the store; it was also saved for people just like this young man, wandering and wondering at all the options with no idea where to start.

Regardless, he seemed perfectly fine to remain unsure of where to start. The smile on his face was one that Elliot could relate to. She had been that way the first few times she'd gone into the library at Salem Institute and then get herself immersed in all the books available, as well as the occasional scroll. Not really noticing it herself Elliot's smile grew a little more.

"Hello, welcome to Flourish and Blotts. Is this your first time here?"

Ambrose turned, momentarily stunned as he hadn't heard the woman's approach.

"Oh!" He recovered quickly, and a wide grin cut across his face, "yes, it is! Flourish and Blotts?" Right, like, ink stuff. Writing. He got it. Clever. Something about the woman had caught his attention, but the wispy thought was gone as quickly as it had come. He looked into the face of the woman who nearly matched his height, a sudden sort of amusement about him.

"Is it that obvious?" If she hadn't guessed it before, the fact he didn't know the shop name was likely a good giveaway. His hand dropped from the shelf as he turned to face her. He could only assume she was an employee; either that, or a particularly nosy customer. Not that he'd have minded either. "I hadn't meant to look like a tourist."

She hadn't intended to startle him, but that's just what she did. Thankfully the young man recovered himself quickly and gave another smile. He seemed to be all smiles, despite his lack of direction here in the shop. Smiling about everything made him appear like a perpetual optimist to Elliot. Her head tilted ever so slightly to the side in curiosity about him.

"Is it that obvious?" he had asked in response to her question. There it was again, that lack of an English accent. His accent was almost familiar to her, but she couldn't quite place where...

"It kind of is," she replied. The half smile on her face remained well pulled back, her teeth peeking out now and then as she spoke.

"I hadn't meant to look like a tourist."

"That's what gave you away," she said, chuckling. "I'm Elliot Blair, I'm the manager here." Her tone of voice remained gentle and patient. "If there's anything you need help with, let me know. Feel free to keep looking around the shop, or if there's something you'd like me to help you find...?" She left the last phrase open, just in case this young man did come up with some kind of book he'd be interested in. A little bit of motivation always helped people to think of something to look for, even it was the first thing that popped into their heads.

"Well, then, it's nice to meet you, Elliot. I'm Ambrose." He extended a hand to shake with hers. He was sure she met countless people every day, and was only introducing herself as a pleasantry, but it felt wrong to not respond in kind.

Feel free to keep looking around the shop, or if there's something you'd like me to help you find...?

Ah! There, that wispy thought was back, though this time Ambrose grabbed it before it could slip away. Her offer triggered another grin to cross his face, though not because he was particularly excited to find a book. It was her accent.

"Maybe-- Do you have any potions books? Or some healer books?" He was quickly learning his skills needed some brushing up. He was in this antiquated bookstore by happenstance, but it certainly seemed like as good a time as any. Although, he was more excited to follow up with a different question:

"Where are you from, by the way? If I can ask that? You don't sound like you're from London." Elliot seemed friendly enough, perhaps she wouldn't mind the sudden personal question. He watched the woman's green eyes, as if they had an answer for him. "I just moved here, so I couldn't help but notice."

Elliot cordially took his hand and shook it. It wasn't very often that she'd meet a brand new customer who seemed just so friendly, like he was. Ambrose.

"Ambrose," she repeated verbally, softly, as she connected the name to his face and repeating smiles. He either was having a very good day or simply was a perpetual optimist, like she had thought before. A moment later her own smile had widened just a bit more, giving a sigh at the same time--half out of exasperation, amusement the other, when he asked about her accent. She pulled her hand away and rubbed at the bridge of her nose with a single fingertip, making her glasses rise and fall with the motion.

"Three years, and I still stand out." She adjusted her glasses again and met his eyes properly. "You're right, I'm not from London. I'm American. Virginia." Keeping the conversation going as well as help out with the request he had made for potions and healing books, Elliot gestured for him to follow her and began to lead him deeper into the shelves of books, whilst avoiding bumping into the occasional customer still browsing.

"I just moved here, so I couldn't help but notice."

"That would explain why you seem so out of place," she replied with a chuckle. "It's okay, you'll get used to things here. Diagon Ally is great for just about anything you need." She stopped and gestured towards two isles of shelves on either side of them amidst the rest of books which now surrounded them. There was probably only one other person this far back into the store, and this particular customer was too engrossed in reading to really notice their presence. "On this side is potions, and the other side of you is herbology and other related topics. And you were also looking for healing books, right?"

Elliot slid her fingers into the sleeve of her sweater to pull out her wand, trying to be discreet and hope that...Ambrose, right? wouldn't notice the slight discoloration of her forearm's skin due to that burn she'd gotten a few weeks ago. "I do have some suggestions. I can collect them while you look around, if you like."

“Three years?” Ambrose gave a look of astonishment as a thought processed, “And you’re the manager? Must be nice, to have a career together so young.” He smiled again as he looked up and around at the shelves. This place was much larger than Ambrose had thought. He listened to her words as he took in the endless rows of books. Bookstores always made Ambrose feel small; so many topics and subjects, and even more people to write all these books, all much more accomplished than himself.

"I do have some suggestions. I can collect them while you look around, if you like."

Her voice drew him back to her.

“Hm? Oh, yes, that would be great, thank you,” He supposed that was his cue to leave her alone, but he was still curious.

“You’re all the way from Virginia? Did you go to Salem?” SWIM was much closer than Red Rocks, Ambrose knew, but he still wasn’t sure it could be assumed. “Is London really different from Virginia? I've never been there.” He'd barely even been in London-- he suddenly grinned over to her, “Sorry, if I’m keeping you from your work, then don't mind me.”

Elliot had her wand up, just about to perform Accio on the first of her selection of books, when Ambrose's comment made her halt for a moment and turn her head around to glance back at him. Sure, it was a nice setup she had going as manager of the store, but it wasn't exactly what she had in mind for herself as a career. Not that she could do much to change that, right now...or a while, for that matter. A moment later she shook her head and resumed what she was about to do.

He probably thinks I'm younger than I actually am, she thought to herself. What a compliment.

She silently cast the spell and, one by one, with each repeated use, the books came to her. One slid from its place on the shelf of the upper floor, another costumer nearby quietly and casually stepping to the side to allow it to pass, before stepping back into place; another wiggling itself out of a stack near the front door; and a third struggling to squeeze itself out from between two unnecessarily large tomes it had gotten itself wedged into by previous customers on an already cramped shelf.

"Did you go to Salem?” he asked. He certainly was curious , but she couldn't blame him, though. The continual smiling and asking questions did make Elliot begin to assume that he was perhaps a bit younger than she first expected. She also figured that, having just recently moved to a new place, any connection to what was left behind would be a cause for interest, perhaps even a bit of comfort. Years ago, Elliot had wished she had that kind of connection from time to time. The memories of her adjusting to life in England went through her head as quick as a blink.

"I did, actually," she replied, extending her arm out to cradle the first book summoned as it floated gently there, bringing herself back to the present. "It's been a while since I graduated though. And to answer your next question, yes, they are quite different. I lived in a more historic...more rural...part of the state, so coming to London was kind of a culture shock for me." The second book slid on top of the first book. Elliot's brows furrowed ever so slightly. Where was that third book?

“Sorry, if I’m keeping you from your work, then don't mind me.”

Elliot shook her head, turning to look at him again. "Oh, no, it's quite alright. Just waiting on one more book to come..." And just as she mentioned the missing book it finally managed to wriggle itself out, flinging itself out from the shelf. Her head turned forwards  once more just as it zipped towards her, its front cover smacking her in the face and dislodging her glasses, making them sit at an awkward angle between her eyes as the book dropped from the air and landed on top of the other two with a muffled 'thump'.

"...there it is."

Ambrose’s experiences with ruralness were… limited, to say the least. Yorkville was a somewhat “greener” part of Manhattan, though. He remembered growing up with lovely flower topiaries and single potted trees, their thin leaves limp and battered by city pollutants. Still, to him, it was beautiful how the sunlight filtered through in a sickly yellow sheen. Ambrose had removed his sunglasses to admire that many-a-time.

Elliot probably would have been baffled to know that Ambrose’s idea of rural barely even included grass, let alone fields of unmowed flora. He had no inkling of forests with underbrush—true barbs and switches that twisted around legs and snapped at passing intruders, allowing walkers to pass only through narrow paths (true forests were nothing like the movies). He knew the countryside was quiet, though anyone from the country could tell you how loud it is, with the constant static of wind through the trees, birds yowling and cawing and chirping from all distances, and leaves battering the windows while you tried to think. The two stood mere feet from one another, but they certainly were worlds apart.

Ambrose was glad he wasn’t bothering her, because he had more questions than he had answers. When did she graduate? It had been a while since he had graduated, too, maybe they—

“Oh!” Ambrose froze, his eyes went wide as the book hit her. Instinctively, though probably uncalled for, his training kicked in and he closed the distance between them. He quickly took the books from her arms and placed them on the ground beside them.

“Are you alright?” He asked, one hand reaching up to remove her dislodged glasses, the other’s fingers finding her chin as he examined her face. “Are you hurt? Does that happen a lot?” He tried to resist it, but a bit of a smile spread across his face. “Kind of ironic, with the healing books and all. Do you need me to use them?” he touched the spot at the bridge of her nose; unfortunately, his mannerisms were too boyish to seem anything but concerned.

From the sound of his voice, Ambrose was more taken by surprise from the moment than even she was. Elliot's face was scrunched in reaction to the book's smacking her in the face, and she was relaxing, feeling her glasses slip down a little along her nose, when her expression changed again--this time to confusion.  He was quick to act and removed the books from her arms before suddenly coming rather close to her. She wished terribly that it wasn't happening, regardless, she felt her face warm up when he drew close. Had it really been so long since she'd allowed somebody that near that she was getting flustered?

She blinked again when he suddenly removed her glasses entirely, rendering her world to one a little fuzzier than usual, though she could still make out well enough the shapes of people and bookshelves. Not that she could see much beyond Ambrose's face right there in front of her own.

"Are you alright? Are you hurt? Does that happen a lot?" Yet more questions from him. Seems like their conversation would remain full of them.

"N-no, I'm fine. It just...surprised me," she replied, her eyes glancing around, trying to find something other than his face to focus on, but, of course, with little success. Didn't help that his touch at her chin kept her from turning her head side to side.

She swallowed at his touch on the bridge of her nose.  Thankfully, it didn't really hurt save for a slight ache there due to her glasses having been shoved up there when the book hit. It'd go away in time.

And suddenly a thought hit her. Was he some type of Healer? Few people reacted like that...and the books. Of course! He had to be! So that's what he meant when he said that this was ironic. He even offered to make use of them, though she doubted she really needed them. She was sure the worst of it was simple red marks from her glasses and the book. That, too, would go away in time. She'd certainly fallen asleep while reading books often enough to have classmates and friends wake her and then laugh at how she looked. It was usually the embarrassment that lasted longer than the marks.

"I'm fine, really," she reiterated. Merlin, I hope I am.

"You're sure?" Ambrose asked as he gave her a gentle pat to the cheek. His concern faded to a gentle humor, and then a moment of thoughtfulness as he picked the books up off the floor.

"Sorry, was that weird? I probably should have asked before getting up in your face," he looked back to her, that humored look returned, "I don't get out much."

While not typical, that was more or less true since coming to London. Ambrose had been too preoccupied with paperwork and hospital work to bother seeing the sights before now-- and, even now, he was technically here on business. He shifted the books to his other arm.

"You'd recommend these?" Back on topic; looking through the books, he recognized one, but not the other two. "You know things about healing, then?" He thought a moment, "I guess you must know a lot of things about a lot of things." The assumption seemed to make sense to him, though he wasn't sure why. She seemed like the sort. Ambrose glanced around the shelves on either side of them.

"Can you recommend any of these, too?" He asked, gesturing his head towards a shelf. "Really, unless you've got things to do," he added, unsure if she was simply saying she wasn't busy.

It was not often that she got to walk down Diagon Alley. Sameera usually didn't have a lot of time for wandering around in the alley, but now that she had a reason to, making time was the least she could do. Still dressed in her bespoke suit under a dark green winter coat, fresh from work, her heels clicking against the cobblestones as if she'd traversed the uneven surface every day (she hadn't, but she was used to these surfaces), she made her way to the nearest bookstore. Easy to tell, considering the number of books piled high in the window. She stood outside looking at the stock on sale, her breath misting in the air, before heading to the door and pushing the old wood.

Her mission was simple enough, but finding the books - or at least a competent enough storekeeper - would be a little more difficult without having to raise eyebrows. As such, when she stepped into Flourish & Blotts, the bell above the door heralding her entrance with a merry jingle, she was in a mentality a little more severe than she usually was. That and also one of nervousness - it was not often she stepped into bookshops in Diagon Alley, and one look at the dusty, high bookshelves with the occasional book fluttering past made her feel really quite small.

There were a few people in there. Sameera had long learned that storekeepers here wore whatever they liked and so did their employees, which made it tough for her. In Canada even wizarding shops had their employees wear uniforms and nametags. But possibly that was because those weren't dingy independent shops like this one. She looked around, wondering who the employees were, and then mused if she could find the books on her own. Her height would be a disadvantage, but a good summoning spell would overcome that.

Elliot brushed her fingers against her cheek, still feeling a tad awkward about what just happened. She then quickly regained herself and reclaimed her glasses and put them back where they belonged, bringing everything back into crisp focus. Much better.

"You know things about healing, then? I guess you must know a lot of things about a lot of things." Good! Anything to move on past that awkward moment. She was grateful for the shift of focus back on what they had been doing before. Glancing down at the trio of books in Ambrose's hands the witch felt a momentary dislike for the one that had flown into her face. She'd usually only feel that kind of dislike after a scene in a novel that took the unexpected turn and incited her frustration as to why.

"No, not really," she replied, shrugging. "If it were about history I could talk your ear off. But, you're not here for that," she continued, chuckling at the idea of how that situation looked in her mind. "I'm familiar with our stock, but nothing specific for what you may need though. If you're needing more books in healing, especially through spells, I'd suggest looking upstairs too..."

Elliot instinctively looked back over her shoulder when she heard the bell to the front door jingle, accompanied with the sound of the door itself swinging open then closed. Another customer to tend to, perhaps? Or maybe another regular stopping by to browse for something new? Either way she had to emerge from the shelves further back and see.

"If you need any further help, let me know, okay?" she said as she glanced back at Ambrose quickly. "Another customer." Turning on her heel Elliot came to the front of the store and encountered someone new. Dark haired and dark skinned, yet with startlingly clear, grey colored eyes. She was short, yet professional in appearance due to the suit she was wearing. Certainly not one of her typical customers, she would have remembered.

"Welcome to Flourish and Blotts, need any help looking for a particular book?" she asked, giving her usual half smile as she approached.

All right, she'd now gotten the attention of an employee, who didn't look like an employee but hey that was Diagon Alley for you. A half-spirited smile to go along with the greeting - well, she could be having a bad day, you never know. "Good day, I'm in need of much to do with rights, legislations and legal precedents involving werewolves from perspectives that aren't a solicitor's, or at least from the eye of the common public."

It was hard trying to not be a lawyer after work. It usually took Sameera an hour or so to revert to being more informal. She coughed. "Um, just anything to do with werewolves and laws, thank you." A thought occurred to her just then. "Oh, and perhaps some history of the involvement of Muggles in wizarding affairs, preferably not from Muggle Studies-related textbooks and certainly not written by purists. I find them very, you know, inaccurate concerning Muggle society."

She looked around the shop. Very wholly British. This woman? Not so much, she could hear the hint of an American accent. Sameera could recognise an American accent from a mile away, she'd spent enough time in the company of those from across the pond to tell. "Well, I certainly hope that there aren't any books written by purists in this shop, although if you do I promise I won't demand censorship..."