LogFAQs > #962082727

Nope, I adore her. In fact I have this fantasy where we start talking at a Harry Potter convention afterparty or something like that with THE JK Rowling. We exchange a few pleasantries. She asks what I do. I say I think she's doing a great job as a writer. She laughs. I get my drink.

"Well, see ya," I say casually and walk away. But see, I've got her attention now. How many people voluntarily leave a conversation with JK Rowling? She touches her neck as she watches me leave.

Later, as the night drags on and the coterie of fat neckbeards grows increasingly loose, she finds me on the balcony, my bowtie undone, smoking a cigarette.

"Got a spare?" she asks.

"What's in it for me?" I say as I hand her one of my little white ladies. She smiles.

"Conversation with me, duh."

I chuckle.

"What's so funny?" she protests.

"Nothing, nothing... It's just... don't you grow tired of arguing on twitter?"

"You get used to it," she says, lighting her cigarette and handing me back the lighter.

"What would you do if you weren't trying to deal with all the constant TERF stuff?" I ask.

"I don't know, teaching, I think."

"And if I was your student, what would I be learning?"

"Discipline," she says quickly, looking up into my eyes, before changing the subject. "Where are you from?"

"Hogwarts," I say.

"Oh wow. That's lovely."

"It's ok," I admit. "Not everything there is to my liking."

"What could possibly be not to your liking in the Wizarding World of Harry Potter?" She inquires.

"The death eaters." I tell her. "They're irritating, completely unintelligent, they're everywhere and they are badly written."

Then I wake up.