Breakfast Berating

[Mason Skeeter]

Mason was, by nature, a morning person. He found the quiet of morning so energizing, a great way to wake up for the day. Not to mention it was a normal habit of those in an agricultural field, magical or not. He'd tended to his own personal gardens next to the classroom, fed Azalea and set up for his first class all before washing up for breakfast. Washing up seemed a bit silly, seeing that he'd be elbow deep dirt again in less than an hour. But, propriety dictated that he show up to breakfast with clean hands a face devoid of mud, so here he was.

In the mood for a hot cup of coffee, Mason took a seat at the staff table at random, without paying much attention to who, if anyone was sitting nearby. This would be a nice little boost of energy before the day truly began, some coffee before the students started trickling in, a little breakfast and he'd get back to the greenhouses to double check his first lesson.

"Would you pass the milk, please?" He asked as he realized the seat next to him was indeed occupied, though he had yet to take a good look at who it was as he was attempting to pour his coffee without spilling it.

@'violet wiltingham'

  

[Violet Wiltingham]

"Have you lost the ability to use your fingers, Mr. Skeeter?" 

Professor Wiltingham sat at the staff table more like a queen than an educator. That morning she was wearing a funny hat that was practically bursting with feathers and a fur throw hanging on old shoulders, giving her that vulturine-look she was almost famous for. With her lips pursed and chin raised, Violet hummed something like Auld Lang Syne, using a knife to spread a rather generous quilt of marmalade onto a piece of toast. But, as the young man sat beside her, she turned her head with the slowness of a turtle and severity of a hawk, quirking a brow.

Nevertheless, Violet continued to spread the jam, lifting her saggy face into the air as she continued to stare at him beneath heavy eyelids. As she finished her toast, Violet summoned the milk for her young coworker as she set into her toast gingerly.

"I must say, I am quite surprised," Wiltingham mused, her brows lofted. She chose not to elaborate for a moment, giving him time to think just exactly what she was surprised by. The edge of her mouth curled.

"For once, Mr. Skeeter, you don't smell entirely like dirt." She bowed her head, looking out once more from under her eyelids, "Only partially."  

[Mason Skeeter]

The retort bubbled up before Mason really registered, but the voice cut through him and he snapped his head up, finding Mrs. Wiltingham to be the one he had addressed. Curses. The woman petrified him and her response to his request was exactly the reason why. "Pardon, I didn't meant to interrupt your breakfast." Of course he almost wanted to point out that it would have been rude to reach across from her- or even summon it across her space, but refrained. He didn't want to die today.

She seemed in a giving mood, though Mason wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing right about now. "Thank you." He added earnestly as she did indeed pass the milk. Mason added it to his coffee thinking that may have been it, but nope, there it was.

He winced. Did he really smell that badly of soil? It was an unmistakable scent, sure, but he didn't think it followed him around all that closely. Of course he spent most of his days in the greenhouses, which meant that it was just the general aroma around him, he would hardly notice. Maybe he needed to purchase some cologne?

"It is, most unfortunately," Not really, because he didn't actually care, however. "A side effect of the position." He mused, thinking there was no way in hell she'd take that as a viable answer. Hey, at least it wasn't across his face or under his fingernails like every other waking moment of the day!

You don't have to 'tag' me, I get an alert when you reply! :}

  

[Violet Wiltingham]

"Hum?" Wiltingham said, her mouth full of toast and marmalade, "side-effect, you say? How extraordinary." The woman finished her mouthful, reaching for her tea. Just before she took a sip she said quite severely, "If side-effects are the case, I must be careful not to turn into a teacup." 

The old woman hid the curl of her lips behind the porcelain of her cup, those cold and glazed eyes of hers gazing out at the ocean of students filtering into the hall for their towering mounds of pastries or sloshing mugs of tea. As Violet set down the cup, she adjusted her stare to the plate of crumbs before her and then to the side, glancing at Mr. Skeeter.

"Ah," Wiltingham sighed, her mouth drawn into a severe purse before her large, bulging eyes swam back and forth from Skeeter's own to his fingernails, "I see you've another side-effect, Professor Skeeter. Do you ever tire of having dirt beneath your nails?" Of course there wasn't much dirt, at all, actually. In truth, his cuticles were almost pristine and there might've been only a few traces of soil left beneath his nails.

"Unless," Violet leaned backwards, the sagging skin of her neck wrinkling beneath her chin as she gaped at him with a grave, bulgy-eyed gaze, "you are perhaps becoming a plant yourself." Wiltingham gave a small hmph, folding her hands smartly on her lap.

"What an extraordinary side-effect indeed."

  

[Mason Skeeter]

That tone. Mason wondered if she purposefully used it to make people feel like idiots or if that's just how she was naturally... Either way he was very near blushing like a school boy as she continued. Perhaps he should just permanently stick his foot in his mouth to save himself any more embarrassment.

He inspected his fingers out of reflex before shoving them into his lap; Mason was not enjoying feeling eleven this morning. "My mother wonders the same thing." He admitted quietly, for lack of anything better or appropriate to say. Were he even brave enough, he may have come up with some witty comeback, but as it was, he would prefer not to get hit by Mrs. Wiltingham's cane this morning.

Trying not to draw any more attention to his hands, Mason retrieved his coffee and took a tentative sip. "I shouldn't think so, though I did dress as a bowtruckle for the Masquerade ball." He mused before realizing that was not helping his case.

  

[Violet Wiltingham]

"Your mother?" Wiltingham sighed, her large eyes swimming in their aged sockets in a serpentine manner. 

"The poor woman," she mumbled under wrinkled lips as she took another sip of her tea. Violet, despite her hardness on poor Mr. Skeeter, was appropriate due to the extreme— though un-admitted— fondness she had over him. They'd only known each other briefly, but, Wiltingham couldn't help but find his awkwardness and lack of clean nails to be a sign that he needed a stern mothering, something Violet assumed his mother hadn't the right stuff for. 

As she set her cup down into its saucer, Wiltingham felt her mouth drop. "A bowtruckle?" Agape and obviously astounded by his poor show of defending himself, Violet tilted her head back, her stare drifting. She huffed a bit, failing to form words beneath her breath. In her mind she'd already began listing the things she'd get him for the holidays, at the top of it being a scrub-brush.

  

[Mason Skeeter]

Mason wondered if he shouldn't just excuse himself to save himself what he was sure was going to continue to be a painful conversation. Yet he couldn't do so without being rude which would only  make matters worse he feared. No, maybe he could just shut up, eat and then head out with as little further embarrassment as possible. His mother was a perfectly lovely woman and he was not a poor reflection of his upbringing. In fact

Managing a second, far more noticeable wince when Mrs. Wiltingham of course, commented on his choice of costume for the Halloween Masquerade, he sighed softly shortly after. What he assumed would be an incredulous laugh or rant about how inappropriate that might be, Mason waited... and waited, but apparently he'd managed to stun the Transfiguration professor into silence.

He really was that awkward, was he?

Taking slight advantage, Mason piled some food onto his plate and started eating quietly, stealing glances out of the corner of his eye.

  

[Violet Wiltingham]

The silence, to her of course, was not awkward in the least bit. Violet had a strange ability to make the people around her either beat red or unnervingly quiet and apprehensive. But, that wasn't her fault, no, it must've just been that the company she came by usually just wasn't the best.

But, Mr. Skeeter was an entertaining fellow; he was absolutely riddled with problems, in her eyes, and they needed a rather stiff ironing. As she went about laying a thick layer of marmalade on another slice of toast, she turned her head slightly to cast him a side-eyed glance.

"So, Mr. Skeeter," she hummed rather seriously, "what do you plan to do for the holidays?" she took a small, petite bite, looking out from under her eyelids. "Do you travel, or rather stay here, buried in your pots and bushes?" Professor Wiltingham took a steady sip of her tea before turning her head to cast an amused, yet serious stare, cocking her head owl-like. 

  

[Mason Skeeter]

Assuming that Mrs. Wiltingham would find something to criticize and that her silence wouldn't last long, he was pleasantly surprised when she asked him a relatively civilized question. Too bad she'd caught him mid-bite and so he had to quickly chew his toast and wash it down with a sip of coffee before he could reply.

"I stay here," He answered easily enough. "It's just me and my mother at home so it doesn't exactly matter when we do Christmas. That way the professors with families can go spend the holiday at home." Mason didn't really mind and neither did his mother. He always made sure to sneak out for a day and see her, exchange their few gifts and see his extended family if he could, but staying at the castle over the holiday really wasn't so bad. The house elves always put out an incredible spread and there really wasn't anything quite like the Christmas tree in the great hall and the snow falling from the enchanted ceiling.

"And yourself?" He reciprocated the question, though he was entirely unsure as to whether or not Mrs. Wiltingham had any local family to visit.

  

[Violet Wiltingham]

Violet wasn't always an old brute, in fact, she often found that being sweet with a young person could be, at times, rather rewarding, much to her surprise. As she took herself to another cup of tea, listening quite seriously to Mr. Skeeter, she cocked her head to give him her usual vulturine glare.

"And your mother," Violet said in a soft hmn, "where does she live? Perhaps I'll send her a parcel?" Wiltingham was rather speaking to herself than Skeeter with that last bit. She leaned in, her eyes bulging and mouth drawn into a severe wrinkle, "you did buy her a gift, yes?"

"I," she said, sitting in her chair, "prefer an evening alone. You see, my cottage in Ballymena is rather quiet, and I haven't any family left to be plagued by, so I've elected to stay at Hogwarts for this holiday. My dog Cuthbert and I, I suspect, and a nice book."

  

[Mason Skeeter]

Mason was unsure as to whether or not the first question was directed specifically at him, but decided answering was much more polite than potentially ignoring it. "Here in Bartonburg, my father passed away when I was young, Mother works quite a bit though, so she's busy." He'd worried about that as a young man going off to Hogwarts and subsequently when he'd graduated and decided to travel. Morwenna Skeeter was about as independent as they came and Mason was fairly certain she'd have skinned him if he'd tried to use that as an excuse not to do something.

Barely resisting the urge to lean away as Mrs. Wiltingham leaned toward him, Mason stuttered over a non-committal answer, "I ah, have some ideas." He'd yet to actually purchase anything, but had been very busy indeed over their last Hogsmeade visit to take the time to look around and buy something for her. Thankfully his mother was pretty easily pleased and he would certainly figure it out. "Sounds very pleasant, always well-earned at the end of the term. I always look forward Christmas dinner here, it's absolutely mouthwatering." He smiled just thinking about it.