A Weekend of Loveliness

I got myself a carpetbag. Sorta reminds me of the carpetbag in Mary Poppins, where she stored the lamp and whatnot. But back in the good ol’ days, carpetbaggers were scoundrels, and I quite like the sound o’ that. Doesn’t quite go with my birthday fedora, nor the pinstriped suit, but I’m into clashin’ too. In a good ol’ fashioned sorta way.

Don’t quite know what Iva’s got in mind for this weekend, but she asked me to meet ‘er at ‘er house, so here I am with my fedora, pinstriped suit, and carpetbag, filled with clothes and gags and goodies I don’t even know if we’ll need.

Just as I'm at the door, it opens and Iva's there, looking like the lovely she is in a blue dress that's flowing around her. And suddenly I'm getting the head to toe eye look treatment.

"My my," she drawls out, leaning against the door jam. "You certainly fit a fedora and suit nicely, George Weasley... I am almost tempted to whistle at the sight before me."

“Mind if I have the honour?” I ask, givin’ her a once-over, too. “T’would be a crime not to, with what you present.”

She smirks. "Not at all, dear. Do as much as your heart's content."

I whistle appreciatively at her lovely frame and offer her my arm. “You do offer quite the view, lovely. Allow this carpetbagger to show you on ‘is arm?”