- Messages
- 18
Bonnie was having an extremely pleasant evening before the following occurred to ruin her day. She had been shopping in the afternoon and was buying up on clothes for Artemis overseas. Then it had been on to a bar and a nice light pasta meal in an Autumn evening. Bonnie had to admit, some company would have been much welcome since the bar was mostly filled with male patrons; loud male patrons. If only she had asked some of her girlfriends out with her. She sincerely regretted not doing so, now that she was almost crushed against the bar by sweaty bodies that she had the misfortune to get stuck between. The more private sanctuary of the more elegant tables where she had sat seemed very far away.
Then a good shove dislodged her from the pile up and Bonnie fell forward, still clutching her glass of butterbeer in one hand. She came down on it hard and it smashed between her fingers, peppering the floor with shards and blood speckles from her cut hand. She let out a sharp gasp and stumbled to her feet. Where on earth was the utter b*stard who had pushed her like that? Bonnie had fallen out of the group and was sure the man in a green plaid shirt was the culprit, but he had meandered away in amongst the group of men so quickly that Bonnie was sure it had been deliberate. Now there was no sign of him and she was bleeding like a stuck pig. She held the hand to her chest and began searching her pockets. Now where was her handkerchief? Bonnie was hopeless at healing spells; in her desperation, she moved to seek out a sane human being. It was strange that she happened to choose the tall, handsome man in the back of the bar where her original table had been. She hadn't paid attention to him in the slightest before; maybe it was simply because he stood out. Bonnie padded up in her tiny shoes and hesitantly interrupted him.
"Excuse me, sir?" said Bonnie, sweeping her hair from her face with her good hand while the other bled onto her white blouse. "Ye wouldn't perhaps have a handkerchief on 'ye? I was pushed 'ye see, and..." she held up her small hand with a shrug. Then something knocked into her back, and Bonnie turned her head. Him! "Oh flummox me, that's the b*stard!" she hissed to herself, removing her wand. In an instant her face had gone from pale and shocked to pure malicious intent. Aiming her wand between the man's legs as he passed, Bonnie sent a well-shot stinging jinx at him. It hit straight and true. There was a loud howl and the Checkered-Shirt Man began clutching at his nether regions and stumbling towards the rest room where his friends followed in drunken bewilderment. Extremely satisfied, she turned back and her face fell to mild distress again. Oh, this was her nice top.
Then a good shove dislodged her from the pile up and Bonnie fell forward, still clutching her glass of butterbeer in one hand. She came down on it hard and it smashed between her fingers, peppering the floor with shards and blood speckles from her cut hand. She let out a sharp gasp and stumbled to her feet. Where on earth was the utter b*stard who had pushed her like that? Bonnie had fallen out of the group and was sure the man in a green plaid shirt was the culprit, but he had meandered away in amongst the group of men so quickly that Bonnie was sure it had been deliberate. Now there was no sign of him and she was bleeding like a stuck pig. She held the hand to her chest and began searching her pockets. Now where was her handkerchief? Bonnie was hopeless at healing spells; in her desperation, she moved to seek out a sane human being. It was strange that she happened to choose the tall, handsome man in the back of the bar where her original table had been. She hadn't paid attention to him in the slightest before; maybe it was simply because he stood out. Bonnie padded up in her tiny shoes and hesitantly interrupted him.
"Excuse me, sir?" said Bonnie, sweeping her hair from her face with her good hand while the other bled onto her white blouse. "Ye wouldn't perhaps have a handkerchief on 'ye? I was pushed 'ye see, and..." she held up her small hand with a shrug. Then something knocked into her back, and Bonnie turned her head. Him! "Oh flummox me, that's the b*stard!" she hissed to herself, removing her wand. In an instant her face had gone from pale and shocked to pure malicious intent. Aiming her wand between the man's legs as he passed, Bonnie sent a well-shot stinging jinx at him. It hit straight and true. There was a loud howl and the Checkered-Shirt Man began clutching at his nether regions and stumbling towards the rest room where his friends followed in drunken bewilderment. Extremely satisfied, she turned back and her face fell to mild distress again. Oh, this was her nice top.