Saturday, Mid Morning

James had a few errands to run.  While he had managed to get out of practice on Friday slightly early, it seemed that he would be visiting the Alleys again this morning for a few miscellaneous potion ingredients, a couple of books, and maybe take a look into quality quidditch supplies if he had time.  Though he really had no need to go there, he always liked looking at what was for sale, and see if they had anything worthwhile.  Usually, it was not up to par compared with the equipment Tutshill provided, but he did always like looking at sporting goods. 

As it was, James was eating breakfast while waiting for a delivery of the aforementioned books from Borgin and Burkes.  He was wondering when the parcel would show up.  James was not in a  hurry; however,  he rarely got time to himself on the weekends.  Consequently, he wanted to go home sooner rather than later.  Since he was trying to make as much time as possible, he was sitting in a booth eating his breakfast.  While the eggs were good, he was almost done eating it.   Debating for a moment how much time these tasks would take, he realized that he should not be in a hurry.  Taking a small sip of the pumpkin juice, he decided that he would try to slow down a little.

 Noting that it was a nice and sunny, but slightly cool outside, James debated the wisdom of having an outerrobe suitable for a typical rainy day in  London.  Still, James guessed it could not hurt, though he did feel slightly foolish having a thick grey robe draped over his chair.  He decided to see if he could not get a bag somewhere, since it did not seem likely to rain.

His musings were cut off as he noticed that he had cleaned his plate.  Someone else noticed as well, because something then magciked his plate away, refilled his pumpkin juice, and left him with the check.  Placing a galleon on the table, he took another sip of his pumpkin juice and relaxed.  Despite that rapid response to him finishing his breakfast, he thought that Saturday should be a lazy day, so he relaxed in his chair and enjoyed sitting still for a while.

Jimmy leaned his weight through the bar and drained  a glass of pumpkin juice, trying to not feel quite so like death. He wasn't quite sure how this delivery had been landed with him. It was a saturday morning, not so early but early enough for him to have dragged his body from his bed with more than a little reluctance.

He glanced around the room, looking for the man that had been the cause of such an inconvenience and spotted him just across the room, seated at a table and waiting for his delivery. He gave a quick sigh, grabbed another glass of juice and a paper and made his way over to the table that James was relaxing by. Just before he reached the man he paused and twitched slightly, clapping a hand against his pocket with a grimace as one of the books jerked suddenly, a silent protest against the new cover it had been forced to wear and the reduction spell. He stayed still for just a few seconds, cleared his throat slightly and then slid into one of the free seats of the table next to Mr Forrester, opening his paper as he settled into his chair.

After a few moments of silence, he chuckled, shook his head and turned to the man to his side.

"Have you read the latest Prophet? Bloody funny and don't believe a word of it." He told him with a grin, offering the paper across to James.  His arm wavered a little as he handed the paper across - it was much heavier than it looked.

Noticing the man suddenly twitch, he assumed that this was the man who was sent to meet him.  After he offered an entirely too heavy paper, James knew that this was the delivery person.  Setting the paper down down on the table, he briefly glanced over the headline, James could not convince himself to care.  Three Owl standard was just about as good as any other band in his opinion, but James was not an audiophile by anyones’ measure. 

“Usually I just stick with the sports section,” James said, using his quick hands to slip a galleon into the delivery boy’s hand.  James thought the subterfuge seemed out of place and completely unnecessary on a bright and sunny Saturday morning, but he knew that his home country did not view the Dark Arts the same way his alma-mater did. 

Taking another glance at the man, James noticed that he still looked a little bit sleepy.  Deciding to be polite, he asked the man, “Would you care for some tea?  You look like you just woke up,” James said, completely oblivious to anything that would have implied.

Getting a closer look at the delivery boy, he noted that the gentlemen across from him seemed likable enough, but his clothes had probably seen better days.  Deciding not to comment on a complete strangers appearance, he waited until the man decided if he wanted tea or not.  Now that the books were here, James had plenty of time to shoot the breeze, finish his errands, and get started on those books he ordered.