Pesha woke Harry and Draco early in the morning - for the gypsies, which wound up being ten in the morning. "The game's afoot!" he whispered, looking excited enough to do a jig.
Harry yawned, "What game, Pesha?"
"Look!" Pesha said, squatting in the lorrybed and pointing out at a sharp-cheeked, busty woman. He would be barely visible if she came by. Pesha nudged Draco, and said, "Go on, tell her how rosy her applecheeks are!"
Harry gave a dubious look at Pesha, That didn't sound like a good idea. Before Harry could speak, though, Draco had hopped out of the wagon, and was strutting up to the woman (she was half again as tall as he was).
Pesha shivered with glee, "I didn't think he'd do it! Oh, this is going to be good!"
Well, now that sounded just ducky, didn't it?
Draco delivered the line, and the woman sputtered out a laugh, before putting her hands on her hips and taking on a lecturing tone. Draco was more wide-eyed than his usual innocent look, which probably meant trouble sometime in the future. He wasn't the type to take being made a fool of with good grace.
Pesha was silently laughing, even as stormy-eyed Draco came over.
"Put her there, pal," Pesha said, holding out a hand.
Slang. the devil to any stranger. Harry thought, dodging behind Pesha to slap it, and then indicating with his head that Draco was to do the same.
Draco, unfamiliar with this Muggle ritual, managed to get his hand on top of Harry's, but it mostly worked.
Pesha smiled, completely unrepentant.
"Why'd you have me do that?" Draco groused. Doesn't want to get on the old lady's bad side, I wager.
Pesha looked at Harry, rather than answering, "Now it's your turn!"
Harry gave a long sigh, "We're supposed to be working on our act." Harry corrected himself, "Well, his act, anyway."
Pesha nearly squirmed, "Later! Later! Later! Trust me, this'll be fun!"
Harry had the sinking suspicion that it was only going to be fun for the people watching back in the truck. Cautious, Harry asked, "After that, it's your turn?"
Pesha giggled, "Of course. I'll even do Ceija, and she's scary."
Harry nodded, "Okay, what's the line?"
A bell seemed to go off in Draco's head, as his eyes narrowed. Maybe he hadn't realized quite what he was being set up with?
"Hey baby, what's your sign?" Pesha said, lifting his eyebrows repeatedly.
Oh, my god, Harry wanted to groan, but he realized that nobody could possibly take him seriously, with a line like that.
So he put on his best Confidence Air (it was a mix of Hermione and Malfoy, and tell no one that). Now he just needed to pick some bird. Not someone who was his age, that was uncomfortably close to reality.
Even with his out of focus glasses, Harry's eyes widened with glee, as he saw this gaptoothed old woman - with hair still black as night, but wrinkles all over her face, only matched by the sheer unearthly size of her bosom. Harry waltzed over, smirking at her, and said, "Hey baby, what's your sign?"
She gave him a great, gaptoothed smile back, and purred out, "Yield." Then she actually shook her bosom at him.
Harry hightailed it back, eyes wide. he didn't need to look to know that Pesha and Draco were laughing at him.
Pesha was next, and jumped out of the lorry just as Harry was jumping in.
Ceija was sauntering towards them.
Pesha greeted her with a low bow, "May I part your lips with a sweet kiss?"
Ceija cocked a hip out, placing a hand on it, as she lifted the other side of her dress. "Only if you'll let me split your head next. With an axe." Her fierce grin said more, but most of it was unprintable.
Ceija strutted over, "You're supposed to be working."
"Of course we're working, couldn't you tell?" Draco said cooly.
"On your skit, not on giving me a fit." Ceija said, her sternness dissolving into a wide grin.
"After food," Pesha said, and they all went towards the large campfire.
[a/n: Pesha thought they needed a break. Please review?]
