The Master Becomes the Grass Hopper?

Jack nodded, quietly following him, feeling in her pocket for the things she may find of use to her. The laser pointer, the marble, a scrap of paper. In her bag waited much, much more. Though she figured, if she were going to give him something from a Skiving Snackbox, she had better wait for the guy to make a move on the offense.

She followed Micheal, grinning with amusement as people looked as though they wanted to see what else was about to happen. She muttered to herself, "Wow, we could see tickets," and allowed herself a smirk before following Michael in to the back room where one Quincy Callahan was about to get quite a fun little shock.

She felt no need to move from behind Michael, preferring to prize her advantage of surprise. She could see vaguely what was going on in the space between Micahel's arm and his side, though she did not move to see any more than she needed. No, she preferred to have the appearance of just suddenly being there, and she would not give that up.

She listened to the exchange, the prankster in her aching. This young man was aching to be pranked, that much she could tell. She waited for him to say 'old man' and for Michael to crank up the act, before she slid to the side, revealing herself for the first time. Quincy jerked in surprise a little and she felt a smirk fall on her face. "Don't think he can do it? What about me, eh?" She raised an eyebrow, a dangerous smirk on her face.

"Ah, Michael, this isn't fun," she said, gesturing at the wand that was currently pointed at the boy, who was looking more and more scared. She reached into her bag and her hands fastened around a treat. She could not tell if it was a Canary Cream or a Fever Fudge simply by grabbing it, and she could not examine it too closely. She strode forward, a sly look fixed on her face as she locked eyes with Quincy. She curled the corners of her mouth into a smile. "Want a sweet?" She held it out.

"Ah, perhaps you're right," Michael said, pleased with her and contented to allow her to take the lead while portraying the more tenderhearted sympathetic one of their pair. He had already established himself as the hardnosed one. He didn't need to do more.

"Perhaps he will find your femininity more to your liking," Michael said with a completely emotionless face.

"Its a fair sight better than your ugly old mug!" Quincy carped at Michael. Michael had expected utter rudeness from the young man, and it didn't bother him a bit.

"Aye, that it is, Callahan," Michael agreed, lowering his wand. "And tell me boy, which suits you better? Chasing your uncle's potatoes, or trying this beauty's lovely sweet treats?" He let the words slide off his tongue in a very aluring way in regards to chasing the potatoes to try to use a bit of reverse psychology on him.

"He's not my uncle," Quincy said angrily, taking the candy Jack held in her hand and popping it into his mouth in a great show of arrogance and rebellion towards Robert and nearly swallowed it in one bite. He devoted his attentions back to Jack. "But you...maybe we could go to the Halloween festival. I can show you around, and...." His eyes grew wide as the jinxed candies began to take effect.

Jack listened to the words coming from in front of her and from behind her, successfully fighting off the urge to laugh, which she would have done if she were not so deep in the act of pranking the poor fellow in front of her. Though she could not feel too bad, for there was a rude arrogance in his voice. However, it was not all that different from the tone she usually took.

She found it entertaining that she was using her 'feminine charm' which she had not used since... well... she could not remember having ever used it, for any situation. Jack was not one to go by normal gender roles, preferring to wrestle with the guys and fail to understand simple lessons in domestic chores. Therefore, she began to wonder if she would even be able to pull it off.

Apparently it had, because the cocky boy seemed to have been charmed. Shame it was all an act and he was about to get sick. Though really, she would take watching the effects of a prank over going on a lousy date with some overconfident boy. It seemed that the treat had been a Fever Fudge after all, and his face flushed red and he began to sweat.

"Hmm... It's a bit toasty isn't it? Now what were you saying?" She smirked. Her eye was caught by a napkin lying on a table nearby. "Hang on." She walked over to it, subtlety withdrawing a pen from her bag. She scrawled in tiny writing, the word 'fish' against the napkin and walked back over to Quincy. "Here, you seem a little sweaty." She slipped the pen in her pocket and began to withdraw her wand... waiting...

Michael managed to keep a straight face as the next thing that Quincy knew he was wiping his face with a fish that was slapping him in the face with his powerful tail. Quincy left out a shriek and dropped the poor fish on the floor.

"Oh, now, that is a mean thng to do to that poor fish, Lad," Michael sighed, resisting the urge to laugh. He filled a nearby bucket with some water and used his wand to deposit the fish who was struggling to survive, into the bucket. Michael inspected the fish. "And it is a nice rainbow trout too. I think I know just the place to let him loose. Seems a shame to make a chowder out of him. I think I'll let him live."

"You've done something to me, you old codger," Quincy narrowed his eyes at Michael, quite red and sweating now.

"If I wanted to do something to you, Boy, I certainly would not have made you go all red in the face and sweaty over a pretty girl. Or maybe you're catching something. I think you really should go home and rest a bit. Your uncle certainly can't have you in the kitchen if you're ill now, can he?"

"No...'guess not," Quincy said.

"That's a good lad. Don't forget your jacket there..." He guided him out the back door of the pub, reminding him to drink plenty of juices and soup and telling him how to manage his brief illness. Quincy took one look back at Jack, wanting to ask her to the Halloween festival, but found he suddenly had no words that would come to mind to speak to her. Instead he turned and left.

Michael turned back to Jack. "Well done," he told her. "He'll have a bit to think about now. You do realize that we hall have to come here again inn a couple of days and see how he responds to us next time. It should be quite interesting indeed."

It was simple enough to cast the silent spell as he went to wipe his face and Jack let loose some heart and well-earned laughter. She hurriedly stopped and kept up the act, crossing her arms and staring at Quincy as though it was all his own fault that the napkin had transformed into a fish. She shook her head and peered int the bucket. "Poor dear."

Michael convinced the foolish young man that he was too ill to continue on working for the rest of the afternoon and accompanied him to the back door. She saw him give her a second glance and she raised her eyebrows in a dangerous expression and then he was gone. Immediately, she doubled up, laughing so hard she could not stand up straight.

Michael returned and she gave him a short, sweeping little bow. "We work well together, sir," she said, laughing. He suggested they return to see how he would react once they came back. "Oh definitely." She touched the bucket the trout resided in with her foot. She looked after Quincy. "Serves him right for trying to be flattering." She burst into laughter.

"You will make a fine, fine partner," Michael said. "A friend of mine has a farm up near Cornwall. I think I'll turn the trout loose in his creek. I might even take pity on him and conjure a lady trout for him to keep him company." He looked at Jack. "Unless you want to give it a try and see if you can conjure him a lady friend. No point in the poor bloke being lonely in that creek, is there?"

At that moment, Rufus came into the kitchen. "You ran him off?" Rufus looked with raised eyebrows.

"Only for the afternoon," Michael said. "He'll be right as rain in the morning. I think it might have been something he ate."

"And what exactly did he eat, Michael Tremaine?" Rufus narrowed his eyes at Michael suspiciously.

"Just a wee morsel of Fever Fudge."

"And that nitwit didn't know what it was?" Rufus frowned. "Then he deserves what he gets!"

"And Aggie won't be angry with me, then? I do like her, you know. She's generally a good sport."

"She' won't be angry because I wont' tell her. And even if I did, she knows he's an idiot."

Michael roared with laughter. Then he said. "I'm borrowing your bucket."

"Me bucket?" Rufus walked over and peered into it. "OOOOH! What a lovely trout! He'll make a fine dinner, he will!"

"No, he won't. He's my pet. You can't have him," Michael said, defending the fish.

"You're a hard man, Michael. You know how I love trout."

"Love another one. Just not that one," Michael stood his ground.

Jack grinned contentedly at him, the mischievous gleam still not having left her eyes yet, not that it really ever fully abated. If she was not causing trouble, she was serving consequences of trouble, if she was not being punished, she was plotting trouble, if she were not plotting trouble than the odds were that she was dead. She even dreamed trouble.

He said she could conjure up a lady trout friend for the little guy in the bucket and she laughed at the ridiculousness of the request. This man had just terrorized a young man and was not sympathizing with a trout. Sort of the way she cared little for the trifles and trials of her whiny peers, but would feel sympathy for a stampeding dragon, or say, a moody poltergeist.

She looked around saw a wad of newspapers that looked ready to be thrown out. Better get cracking on that other spell then. She had been casting Fera Verto for awhile now, but her creativity had been limited by the mundane minds of teachers trying to stick to simple curriculum. Concentrating hard on making the fish not only a trout, but also female, she muttered, "Fera Verto." The newspaper wriggled and transformed into a fish.

She reached out and fastened her hands around the flopping fish, which seemed to be a duller color than the other. She knew males tended to sport more color so she assumed it had worked. She strode over and set the fish in the bucket, listening to the conversation. She straightened up and said, "There, a lady trout for our gentleman trout. I'm pretty sure she's a girl, but to get a closer look may be something a little to early in her and my relationship." Jack chuckled and then turned to Rufus. "Thank you for letting us terrorize your nephew."

Michael peered into the bucket. "She's a fine trout," he smiled at Jack. "He'll like her. "

"What do you need with a couple of trout? You never minded going trout fishing before and making dinner....." Rufus began at Michael.

"Hush. They'll hear you. These are magical fish. They're not muggle fish....."

"A fish is a fish, Mike...."

"And these are my fish and we're not eating them," Michael picked up the bucket. "We'll be back to terrorize Quincy relatively soon so he learns there's merit in using that wand of his." He looked at Jack. "Ever apparated before? Take my arm. We have fish to rehome."

"And where are you taking them?" Rufus frowned.

"I'm certainly not telling you!" Michael said. "You'd have them in the skillet by nightfall."

"Don't let him twist up your brain, Lass," Rufus warned. "He's plenty capable of making you believe all his blarney."

"She has to be already just ever so slightly twisted or she would not have succeeded so well at her work today," Michael smiled proudly at her. "No, I think I'll keep this apprentice."

"Oh, saints preserve us. Now they're going to be more of you to worry about."

"That's my plan, Rufus. That is entirely the plan," he laughed. "Shall we go, then, Jack?"

Jack smirked as her head turned to follow the conversation between the long time friends, a smile falling onto her face without her prompting. She found the two of them pleasantly crazy, the way they spoke and taunted each other. It reminded of her and her friends... Well, it used to reminder of her and her friends. Nowadays they were crazy, but not pleasantly so.

Michael asked if Jack had apparated before, and she said, "Yeah, I passed my test awhile ago, so I'm sort of a beastly Apparater." She chuckled but he offered her his arm. She figured it would be easier than guessing where they were going. He asked if she was ready and she nodded. "Yep. Nice meeting you Rufus!" She grasped Michael's arm.

Michael made just a slight snap of his fingers and in an instant they were standing at the far end of a backyard, the woods ahead of them, and, clearly the sound of the rushing water of a creek ahead of them. "This place belongs to a very good friend of mine. They'll be safe here." He did not mention to Jack the decades and decades of constant weavings of protective charms that existed over the farm. But it was the safest place Michael had ever known in his life.

Behind them was the barn, the outbuildngs, the farm house with its many magically added rooms, the pristine fields all prepared for cold weather now, the flowerbeds and landscaping, and way off behind them was the front yard and the stone lane that led to the farm. It had had decades of much loving care. It was a place, for Michael and his friends, of much peace and sanctuary.

As far as Michael knew, although the family who owned it had seen its share of tragedy, this was always the refuge from it all. And in all his life, it was the closest thing Michael had ever known to anything of a long term home. Anywhere else were just flats or places he rented for a time and moved on. This---this beautiful farm, even though it wasn't his, was where Michael had planted his heart.

He stood for a moment, as if he were savoring the very essence of the air here. He was suddenly just a bit serious now. The peace of the place he loved so much fell over him like a veil, and he loved that feeling, like nothing in the world could ever go wrong or harm him or anyone he loved., illusion though it was.

"The creek is this way," he said quietly. "Then perhaps you'd like to meet the hippogryff and the unicorns. They've got more owls than Diagon Alley usually. And now there are all those bloody rainbow color pygmy puffs they ended up with somehow. They have scads of them now and can't get rid of the little blighters." He started the walk through the woods towards the creek.