The first and best bit of news that seemed to have come in a weeks was that for some reason or another, Baldric Wood was not any time soon going to start disintegrating into a strange echo of his mother. The tests that morning had been carried out in the usual fashion which took them deep into the afternoon but the Healers never could quite stop themselves from smiling, from showing just how content they were. A clean bill of health Baldric did not by any means possess but it was looking promising and for him and his Healers, that was enough.
Once he’d been rejigged and given new potions, Baldric was sent on his merry way and it was as he reached the house that he found himself being dive bombed by an owl. Batting the creature away, Baldric stole out the letter from its talons and glared at it before hurrying inside, finding the house largely empty, and so took his opportunity to heat up some soup that had been made a few days before. Then, grabbing a crusty roll from the bread box he sat to the island and ate, scanning his eyes over the Daily Prophet for a while before electing to open his letter.
Chewing, as one does while eating, Baldric perused the page, recognising Nessa’s handwriting before he even reached the end of the letter. He swallowed, reaching for the glass of water he’d gotten himself and drank liberally from the glass, his brows furrowing a little over his eyes as he tried to reconcile her letter with whatever he knew to be going on at present. He supposed something had changed, especially given as she no longer had any intention of staying at Keiran’s. That said, Baldric knew his desire to do the same was building but out of his desire for going it alone rather than disaffection with the people who had been hosting him – not that he thought Nessa was guilty of that, either. He was just confused, simply.
Nevertheless, he was obliged and, indeed, happy to go and meet with her. After finishing his meal and cleaning the kitchen of any debris, he washed up his glass, plate and spoon and wiped them up, replacing them back into their proper places before retiring from the kitchen, electing to take a shower before he headed out once more. Once he had done so, upon returning back downstairs it seemed as though many people had returned to the house. There was a hubbub in the living room, footsteps on the floorboards above, and a general feeling of being filled had enveloped its way around the building, making Baldric almost sorry to leave it. He did so, however, for Nessa’s sake.
Upon apparating with a loud CRACK into London, Baldric took off, bracing his jacket around him against the unforgiving Thames wind, and made his way down the road towards the café that was unfamiliar to him but in failing that detail he did know the particular area well enough and made it in good time, earlier than was instructed but he suspected that Nessa would not begrudge him a whole five minutes. Whilst some preferred to be exactly on time, Baldric could not live with himself unless he was early. So, early he was and he opened the door to the café, scuffed his feet on the mat and took his jacket off as he made his way over to Nessa’s table.
“Evening, m’lady,” he called to her brightly as he set his jacket around the back of the chair to Nessa’s left. He then plopped himself down in it happily and grabbed the menu out of the salt and pepper rack where it had been slid between two metal struts. He turned it over once, twice, thrice and then decided that, given he was no longer permitted to drink much more than a half cup of coffee per day, he’d purchase a cup of tea and perhaps a Danish or a slice of blackberry pie. He was siding with the latter.
After handing over his order to a passing waitress, offering her a galleon in tip for he himself had found himself lately immersed in more money than made him comfortable, Baldric waited to get his tea before he turned to Nessa, deciding to inquire after her cryptic letter and slightly pale countenance. After a few hasty sips of tea, he set the cup down, liking the fact that they were coloured mugs, thus giving the café more of a homely feel, and fixed his attentions wholly upon the young woman before him.
“What’s your news then?” He asked of her.