Brett's brother's birthday was soon. He was going to be turning twenty-one, and she wanted to get him some nice presents. He was an avid quidditch fan, and often played with his friends on a regular basis. He had never gone pro- though Brett wasn't sure why- so she had decided that perhaps getting him some quidditch related gifts might be a good idea.

She had invited Dax to come along on the trip, because she enjoyed his company and thought Dax might know more about what to buy than she did. Brett didn't play quidditch at Hogwarts.

"I was thinking I might get him, you know, like some broom polish or whatever else he'd need to take care of his broom," Brett said to Dax, staring at the broom accessories on the wall of the small secondhand broom shop. "They have things to clip the bristles of the broom, too, don't they?" she asked Dax, looking at one of the all-in-one broom care kits. She had no idea what was in it, and there wasn't a list on the package.

Brett looked round for a salesman, and saw him talking to another man. "I'm going to ask what's in this," she said to Dax then approached the salesman.

The person that the associate was talking to immediately caught Brett's attention. His accent was... different. She smiled brightly when she realized that he was American. Brett hadn't met very many people from America before, and she giggled when she listened to the way he said things. "I don't mean to interrupt, but are you American?" Brett asked. "I just love your accent! Can you say something funny in American?" she asked. Brett never was one to care for manners, and that she might be rude didn't cross her mind. She was just excited to hear someone talk with a new accent!

Jimmy felt slightly-

okay, totally lost. He'd found the broom shop while moseying around town, and had decided that the absolute perfect gift for his daughter, May, would be a miniature broom.

He felt guilty enough leaving for so long with such a young daughter at home, even if he did talk to her every day, but not showering her with presents that would infuriate her mother would be an absolute crime.

And despite the fact that it was his job to be a big fat jock, he really didn't have a whole hell of a lot of knowledge on the subject of quidditch, and as such the shop was like a big barn full of gazelles, or some other such animal he had never seen before.

He looked at one that seemed pretty sturdy- even though May was only two, she really packed a wallop. Just a few weeks before the kid had taken a steep tumble down a flight of cold concrete stairs, and emerged merely laughing.

May Hart was absolutely destined to turn out like her father. Albeit hopefully more feminine.

"Hey, ah... 'scuse me, there, buddy," he gestured to the shopkeeper with a friendly wave. "I'm kinda, like... hopelessly lost, here. I wanna get this guy here for my daughter. Now... she's two... you think this is too advanced?"

And that was when he noticed the girl lingering only slightly behind him. He jumped about a foot and clapped one hand over his heart. "Cheese an' crackers, kid, what the..." he began, but then he listened to the remainder of her request. "Somethin'... what?"

The girl was petite, but only when compared to the big blonde kid she was flanked by.

He paused for a moment to absorb her request. His face remained dully blank for the majority of his thought, then recognition slipped over him. "Yeah. Yeah. I'm from... I'm from North Dakota." He looked around the shop. "Something funny," he said softly, more to himself than anything else. He wanted to make a good impression on the foreign kids, at least at first, to make his jerk-assery later on make more sense. "Oh, sure, you betcha," he finally said, clearly pleased with himself. "Arright. So. How come Jesus didn't replace the stone from the cave when he rose from the dead?" he asked. He then waited a moment before finishing, "...'cause he was born in a barn!"

A pause. "Get it??"

"It's got, like, broom bristle wax and stuff. Polish  for the handle and grease and -" Dax made a somewhat feeble - and distracted - attempt to list off what he remembered being in the kits. His dad's were usually self-collected - Roland preferring only the best for the Falcon's brooms - so Dax had never actually seem the inside of the average kit. But he had a guess.

He followed Brett, even as he picked up things off the shelves to inspect (and put them back in the wrong places). He wished they had money at times like these; there was a reason most of Dion's birthday presents had been gained via five-finger discounts. If he'd had money Dax would walk out of such places with enough Quidditch paraphernalia to decorate a whole room.

When Brett stopped, he leaned on the shelf nearby. He couldn't help the grin at Brett's request; he followed it with an eager nod, and when Jimmy was finished speaking, he looked as confused as Brett did for a moment before his brain remembered its own existence and kicked in.

"Ahahaha!" he said, slapping Jimmy on the the shoulder - the blow a bit more powerful than he'd intended. "I thought Americans cussed more," he observed. "You the Quidditch coach for Salem? They any good? I heard you lot make the balls explode -" he couldn't help the snerk he made at that, "Which would certainly make beating them harder, yeah?"

He grinned stupidly. Why were sports so suggestive?

Brett snorted when he said cheese and crackers- finding that much more amusing than the joke he told. Brett arched her eyebrow when he asked if she got it. She, in fact, did not. Raised in a magical household, she didn't recognize the name of the person and wasn't sure why there was a stone, a cave, and a barn. Even so, she didn't want to be rude and tell the man his joke was a total bust, so she grinned enthusiastically instead.

Apparently Dax got the joke when she didn't, though, judging from his laugh. She'd ask him about it later. "Don't be rude Dax!" she said, elbowing him hard in the ribs at the way he reacted to his own pathetic attempts at inappropriate sports jokes. (The kind of jokes Brett usually found HILARIOUS when not in the public company of strangers.)

"Ignore him," she said to the stranger. "He never found his way out of the barn, apparently." Brett elbowed Dax again, in a more friendly way this time. "And I'm sure that their balls don't explode. I don't think you could play quidditch like that. It's dangerous enough without that. Probably just a myth or something. You know, like those people who wake up without kidneys."

"North Dakota?" she repeated. Brett had no clue where North Dakota was. Or anything about America really. Apart from her limited exposure to it in History of Magic- which had been very limited indeed. But apparently he must have been from Salem- something she hadn't really considered. Now that Brett was out of Hogwarts, keeping up with what was going on there wasn't a priority. Besides, they'd been busy with auror training, which was definitely draining, and when she was out of the ministry Brett preferred to let her mind rest. "Where's that at?"

Jimmy felt totally satisfied by the reaction his joke had gotten. Most of the Salem kids would completely roll their eyes in his face when presented with a Jimmy Hart joke, and betrayed only the slightest hints of smiles. One laugh and one polite smile was well above par. "Oh, you betcha, yah, that one's a keeper," he grinned, handing over the money (which he did not quite yet understand) to the shopkeeper, praying the guy wouldn't totally take him to the cleaners.

He cocked an eyebrow in surprise- well, he guessed there wasn't really a good reason to have heard about North Dakota unless you were taking a high school geography course or reading a book about the dullest places in the world. He'd have bet that the girl could name a good deal of places in England- well, more or less anywhere that wasn't London- and he'd be left scratching his head. "Nor'Dakota," he repeated, not attempting to pronounce it correctly anymore, "Is, like... it's near Minnesota. Right unnerneath Canada, there."

His face warmed considerably at Dax's reaction, and he laughed along with the boy. "Coach, yes. Quidditch, no. I hear that's what yiz play over here. We play Quodpot. I'm Jimmy, by the way. ...Hart. I'm the Quodpot coach.  And yes, our balls do explode." Trying to make his face totally serious, he added, "some quicker than others."

"It's just above South Dakota, Brett, duh," Dax said, ever the supportive friend. But then, his ribs hurt and he totally hadn't had that coming this time. He rubbed the spot - which was probably going to bruise, so much for going shirtless today.

It was made worse when the coach laughed along. And added his own lines. Dax, of course, instantly liked him; but it made his life a lot harder, now didn't it?

Yes, but do they touch? He wanted to ask it so badly it was almost a physical need - but one glance at Brett suggested this was a bad idea. He didn't need to have his boys crushed again. Besides, that'd make all these 'exploding ball' jokes even worse.

"And no one gets hurt? Or is that the point?" Given what Dax had heard about Americans he wasn't sure which one was the obvious answer.

She shot Dax another glare when he said it was above South Dakota. But she kept her elbows to herself, and instead focused on the man again. Brett had no idea where Minnesota was either. But she knew enough about geography to understand his reference to Canada. Must be a cold place, she thought, with a lot of snow. And moose.

When he introduced himself, Brett smiled brightly. "I'm Brett," she said. "And that's Dax," she jerked a thumb at her friend. "We're auror trainees," she added. He was an attractive man, so she thought letting him know she wasn't a student might be a good idea. Brett knew that she looked young, and  a lot of people had a hard time taking her seriously. Mostly because she didn't really behave like an adult. Even as a trainee she wasn't always doing a bangup job. She was still learning when to keep her trap shut- and failed those lessons most of the time.

"Quodpot?" she asked. "Sounds weird, if you've got things exploding on the pitch. You play it on a broom?" Brett asked Jimmy. "Is it a lot like quidditch? Sounds like it might be more exciting." Which was odd, coming from Brett. She loved to follow the school games and listened on the wireless. Even if it never was a sport she played, she liked it. But she wanted to seem interested in what Jimmy had to say. "Most exciting thing happens in quidditch is someone taking a bludger to the face."

"Do they blow up?" she asked. "Like in a fiery explosion? Or just kind of... smoke a little and deflate? Explosions on a quidditch pitch would be pretty wicked- especially mid air."