Bubbles (Quinn)

"You don't drink water?" the girl repeated, once again caught between confusion and concern. "But water's good for you. My Clara says if you don't drink enough water, you get ill." But then again, she had gotten ill, hadn't she? Maybe that's why she had to have all those surgeries as a baby, because she hadn't drank enough water.

When he refused the offer to of her card, Mimosa took as back. Maybe he didn't know how the card worked. She couldn't blame him, she didn't know either. She just know Grandpa made her keep one at all times. If Quinn had a grandpa, he would know stuff too. And he wouldn't be lost.

"But you name isn't Qui," she pointed out, trying to make sense of his reasoning and failing. "It's Quinn, just as mine is Mimosa. And I always think on my feet, except when I'm siting down, then I think on... my seat." she concluded with finality. For a moment, he looked like he was going to sleep, at least from the way he put his head down on the table.

"I think..." she began tentatively, considering his question with all the seriousness an almost nine year old can muster. "You have to go to school to get a job. You go to school and pick a subject you like and then you can get a job in it when you're a grown up." Of course Quinn would have to study first, he wasn't a grown up yet.

"But I don't know any schools in the UK. I know one in America? It's called Salem Academy and I think it's very good. Do you want to go there?"

"Listen....". He would say taking a very serious tone.  "Adults just tell you water is good for you.  It's a myth so you don't go after the good stuff.  That's a fact."  He would continue to look seriously at her for a moment before his mind wandered and he began to look around, still considering his options.

Thievery seemed a legitimate option at the moment sadly.  Though he doubted the till had any magical defenses, one never knew.  Charity organizations had a tendency to be cesspools of greed and corruption.

It was her next comments that sparked an idea.  The school, well that was a place he hadn't checked yet.  There was Hogwarts, widely considered to be one of the best schools, though he was a little biased so in his mind top three maybe.  Maybe they needed security, or an assistant defense teacher, or perhaps they had some kind of opening.  A place like that, that would be an excellent place to still practice, and have time.  Maybe this pint sized human wasn't useless after all......until her last comment.

"Excuse me?  What did you say?  Salem is NOT a good school.  It's for dregs and washouts."  He would say looking back at the girl.  "Only American school worth its colors is Ilvermony."  He would finish.  He'd heard of Salem, he'd met people from Salem, and they were left wanting.  His quarterfinal match for the American top spot had been against someone from Salem........he'd finished in two spells.  Easier than the first round, how they even stayed credentialed was beyond him.  At least, that was his opinion.

Waving his wand he pulled another paper over.  Looking at it he recognized it as the Daily Prophet.  Not his favorite reading, but alas.  Taking the top several pages off, he handed them to the girl and started to scan the job sections looking to see if the girls comments had sparked him in the right direction.

It took a bit of scanning, but he did find an add for school jobs. A pair of professor jobs were opened. He thought perhaps a club job, or even minor positions that could just get him by would be open. One was in the study of Ancient runes which he had no interest in, and the other........dueling.

"Well hot damn kid. I think you might not be half bad after all." He would say removing the excess sheets he would give them a toss over the table, and fold up the one with the add in it.

He would shackly stand to his feet. "Ilvermony, it's an American school. Only one worth going to kid, remember that when your folks try to hall you off to Salem. It'll be the best fight you give." He would rub his side, and lift his cane. Pressing it into the ground and giving it a lean, is eyes would scan for the nearest post office.

"You know where the post office is?" He would ask her still looking for some kind of signage or land mark. Looking back at the kid he would simply say "if you want them to not move so much buy a muggle book. It'll be in color and more cooperative. You find me the post office and maybe I'll send you one. That's a fair trade aye?"

"Why do you even have a phone?" He would ask looking at the slim device with incredulity. "I didn't have a phone until I was 16 and not one that could do all that until I was in my twenties." Though what really interested him was that he didn't think muggle instruments like that would work in diagon alley. Usually the magic in the air ran interference. Pulling his own out he noticed he had no signal whatsoever. So odd.

"And what do you mean owls don't exist, they fly all over the damn place." He would say wondering if the little girl was a little crazy and that's why whoever was her watcher had ran away. All the same, he didn't have a clue of where to go, so at the risk of getting on some kind of list he needed her help.

"Why don't you show me where the shop is, and if anyone asks your lost ok? You owe me for the double ice cream anyway." With that he would grab his cane and begin shuffling between the tables. Assuming the little girl followed him they would move and press, allowing her to lead the way.

Walking with the little girl he declined the option that included holding her hand. Firstly he wasn't one to hold hands, and secondly if she told anyone that story that had caused him to face palm he would need to apparate out quickly.

Moving through the throng of people they came upon the owl shop. "Looks good enough to me." He would say smiling. He would walk forward and press open the door. The shop was dark and instantly the smell of lots of birds in a small amount of space hit the nose. It was truly an.....interesting smell to say the least. Looking around he would look at all the different sizes and breeds. Though he had little to no interest to actually buy an owl but was more interested with the post service.

He'd glance back and see if the little girl had followed him. If she had he would simply shrug and move to the counter. There he would haggle the price, mostly because he was almost completely out of money. "That's a sin, but here...". He would say a little miffed to the old shop keeper.

Handing him the application that he had filled out with the wave of his wand he would watch as he moved back to shop and begin working on the owls. "Well, I guess you are pretty smart." He would say to little Mimo. He would ruffle her hair, which was wierd because she wasn't much shorter than himself, but he honestly didn't know what you were supposed to do when a child helped you out.

The first thing that assaulted the little girl's senses upon walking into the owl emporium was the smell. If there really were any of those old fashioned birds in here, they needed a shower with lots of soap, the young witch decided, wrinkling her nose in the dark. Maybe that's why most of the owls were gone, they had killed each other by not bathing and maintaining proper hygiene. Mimosa made up her mind to bathe as quickly as possible upon reaching her hotel. She didn't want to kill anyone, after all.

Holding her nose, she ventured in behind Quinn, watching him uninterestedly as he moved to the counter to argue with someone she couldn't see. Maybe he was just generally unpleasant? The thought comforted her somewhat. A least it wasn't just her he spoke strangely to.

Leaving him to his devices, the child moved to a corner of the shop where owl treats and accessories were kept, reaching for a small round thing that looked like an owl but was clearly not a real one. The toy snowy owl had big blue eyes that swiveled from side to side and the girl found that if she shook it, it emitted a high pitched screech that sounded remarkably like "You've got mail!" It was an odd contraption indeed.

Before she could investigate further however, Quinn was back and messing up her hair. Why did adults always do that? If he was an adult that is. "Of course I am," she replied, patting her hair down. "Grandpa always says so... Oh no, grandpa-" The child reached into her pocket, whipping her her phone. Quickly tapping her howler app, the child spoke into the device.

"Grandpa, I'm at the big owl shop with my friend, I already had ice cream, can you coem pick me up please?"

Once the message was sent, she tucked her phone back into her pocket. Looking up at the older wizard, the child stated "I just told my grandpa where I was. He says not to go of with strangers but if I know your name it's okay right?" It had to be. She had met Victoria the other day and Victoria was fine.

"Are you done? Did you actually send a letter with a real owl?" she asked curiously.

There are certain times in your life, when well you can fee that things aren't really how you want them to be. One example could be, standing in a dark room with a little girl that you don't know, while being an older man who bought her ice cream, and now her grandfather was on the way. It didn't take a hippogryph hematologist to know this situation could get hellacious.

"Indeed I did, indeed I did." He said contemplating his next move. The owl was sent, he had accomplished something for the day, so it was probably time to make his farewells to the little human. "Well Mimo, to been a pleasure." He would say with a bow. His face twinged at the motion feeling his injury, but still it felt appropriate.

Standing back up straight and leaning on his cane he would look around, and conveniently there was an owl sitting nearby. Underneath if, was the name tag Quinn. He wasn't sure how far that would go, it hell you never know till you tried. "Would you look at that......". He would say his voice full of mock surprise, pointing behind the girl with the tip of his cane. "An owl named Quinn."

Should she look even for the briefest of moments, a loud crack could be heard, much to the dismay of all avian persuasion creatures, and the chagrin of the shop keeper as it was sure to cause a stir. However for Quinn, he was long gone. Not wishing to even attempt to make any explanations. Would his little idea work, hard to say, but he wasn't really sure what 4 year olds could speak to anyway, so he was probably in the clear.