master of none

"Merlin, fuck,"

Frank stumbled onto the cobblestoned path that was decidedly not where he had been trying so hard to focus on before apparating. A mix of user error and his impossible-to-shake hesitation about stepping foot near Honeydukes again, no doubt. The last (on second thought, only) time that he'd been there was a troll of a kid, anywhere between seven and twenty-five, with milk chocolate smeared over his face and fingers, who had caused a real problem for him. He shuddered at the thought as he sought his bearings in the twilight drenched village.

It was a calculated move to make the trip when he figured that most if not all students would be safely tucked away in their little castle and far away from him. It was a trip that he'd put off all summer, but there was only so long that could last. There were a few people milling about but much to his delight all of whom were full-fledged adults. Just like himself, Frank thought smugly as he followed the path down the village. Robin was to thank for his familiarity with the village, having shown him around for his first month sleeping on their couch.

The windows of the storefront were dimly lit and showcased what appeared to be endless options of sweets. It was even worse inside, he reminded himself darkly. The only saving grace was that he was there for one thing and one thing only. His mother had been hounding him for months for the damn magic beans that tasted of things like snot, and grass, and she wasn’t going to forget as he once so naively thought. In fairness, he hadn't been exactly discrete about his avoidance, either.

Taking a final breath like he was going into battle, Francis took a step toward the door and pushed it with a purpose. "Shi—" He stammered. A pull door? He tried, failed, then pushed again, suddenly square in the face of the store hours etched on the door. Closed on 7 pm on weekdays. "What kind of a—" He cursed (not at all under his breath) and gave the door one final shake for good measure. "Turn your lights off when you're closed, Honeycomb..." He muttered with a huff. Not that he ever did.

@Honey Bea Flume

Honey was sat cross-legged on the floor, pulling boxes from the lowest shelf; she checked the date and chucked them one by one to the floor next to her. Like usual, the cockroach clusters had passed their best-by dates, but like usual she felt obligated to make more and keep them stocked because it was tradition. She’d take the expired boxes over to the critter cafe in the morning, as the new tradition dictated.

She looked up from the box in her hands--not sure why she was bothering to check the dates on them anymore, to be honest--at the obvious sound of someone trying the door. She was safely hidden from the windows by the shelves and she rolled her eyes; they’d been closed an hour now. But there was another Honeydukes tradition: the posted hours were more of a guideline. Honey waited a beat to see if they’d give up and leave, but no such luck.

Pushing herself up from the ground, Honey dusted her hands off and stepped toward the door, leaving the boxes behind on the floor. She didn’t have a good look at who it was--it was darker outside than in--but the general shape didn’t match anyone she didn’t want to see, at least. She unlocked and pulled the door open with a, “Hi, is that necessary?” She tilted her head toward the door. “Most people just knock.”

Honey took a step back to let him inside. “C’mon, then.” She turned a few more lights on and locked the door behind him (so no one else got the same idea). “Can I help you find something?” She smiled, hoping it came across as more helpful than anything else she might have actually been feeling.