Did I pack Mustard or Custard Sandwiches?

Cass stretches in her corner of the compartment. Around her lies a trick pack of playing cards with all jokers on them (and only very subtle differences), on her shoulder, her warty and bug eyed frog Bradley, a permanant frown fixed on her face as she sits lost in thought and one very big door stopper of a sandwich resting on her knees.

The question was, did she spread mustard or custard.

It sounds like a stupid thing, but in order to eat something and enjoy it, you need to expect it. You wouldn't eat a slug with all intentions of eating an ice-cream and be pleasantly surprised and carry on eating, even if you did have a fond afflilation with the slimy hermaphrodites. If you're like Cass and you label and jar all your favourite condiments and spreads on your section of the kitchen counter, and you have a tendency to rub the ink off with your palm while you're writing, then you can see how easily how the two could be easily mixed up.

In her mind, Cass tries to go back through her day and see if she can remember.

Emily had been wandering up and down the train pulling her stuff behind her in search of an empty or at leats quite compartment. She was glad to be goign back to hogwarts she loved the summer, mainly because she could go to digon alley and eat ice cream alot, but she was glad to be going back to hogwarts. It was like going back home. She hoped this year would be more interesting than the previous which had been a little boring. SHe was lost in her though of cheescake and ice cream when she saw an odd sight out of the corner of her eye. Well it wasn't odd it was just a young girl, but she had a large warty toad on her shoulder and was surronded by what appered to be cards. She also had what looked like a large snadwhich sitting on her knees. Emily smiled at the sight of the girl who was younger than her. She remineded her of herself when she was a first year. Although barely any time had passed the gryffinfdor had changed. She decided to see if the girl wanted any company. So she stepped inside the compartment and smiled at her. "Hiya, do you mind if I join you?" she asked her.

Lavender could hear the girls voice before she could see her. On arrival she appeared behind an older girl, who had just said hi to another girl, who looked to be a first year too. She contemplated whether or not to say hello. When the older girl stepped further into the compartment Lavender followed, she decided she would.

"Hey. Do you mind if I join too? Not much room on this train is there?" With that she sat across from the blonde girl. She was possibly the most beautiful girl she'd ever seen. Both girls were so pretty she was sure she'd explode. As Lavender surveyed her surroundings she noticed the pack of cards spread everywhere. "Cards? Do you mind?" She lent forward, about to take one, but waited for the blonde to say it was okay.

Cass' head snaps up when she hears someone speak. She gets a crick in her neck and winces, then panics at the thought of her expression looking at all menacing. The first year does an uneasy toothy smile, moves her neck about and then nods.

"Sure, Missie, not a problem."
Missie?
Missie?

Some people just looked like a Missie, she supposes.

Just as one girl graces the door, so does another, and Cass feels her legs are more than exposed, so brings her sandwich to her lap, puts her legs dangling quite precariously over the seat, and places Bradley atop the sandwich, as a few cards make their way to the floor.
"There never is," she says with ease, then wondering if she's ever had the pleasure of being on any train at all before.

She grins at the idea her compartment isn't so empty anymore, but her eyes slink down to her sandwich and her uncharacteristically still frog and she clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth in thought.
"Not at all, not at all. Mi casa, su casa." Me Cass, she thinks, mind-snorting. "If you have any magic muggle tricks, I'm all elvish ears."

Lavender picked up the card, studying it closely, only dragging her eyes away when the pretty blonde spoke sudden Spanish. Her eyebrow cocked questioningly, a slight smile playing on her lips. Common ground.

"Gracias. Me llamo Lavender," Lavender put her hand out for the blonde to shake, hoping she hadn't taken the Spanish too far.

Cass presses Bradley gently into the top of the sandwich, and looks to the side of the sandwich for any spillages. She figures that if it was custard it would come out pretty quickly, and if it was mustard, she'd be able to smell it. Which gives her a thought to smell it, but seeing as she has company she supposes she will have to wait.

She draws a blank at what the girl- Lavender- says, but realises quickly with her hand and the word that sounds like a name that she is initiating an introduction. So she repeats what Lavendar says with perfect intonation, "gracias. Me llamo Lavender too. I mean, Cassopeia. I mean, Cass."

Flustered as she is, she nods succintly and her eyes flicker to the other girl. Surely she has a name too?

Lavender knew she'd taken the Spanish too far, but shrugged it off.

"Cassopeia, what a lovely name," She smiled, before noticing an odd smell emiting from the blonde's lap. "Mustard?" She nodded towards the sandwich, it was a strange filling. "Smells like it," Lavender followed Cass's gaze to the third girl in their compartment, who hadn't yet introduced herself.

Emily had been lost in her won world and had completely forgot that she was tsnading in a compartment with two other people. She had been listening to their conversation with one ear while her mind had wandered. Suddnely she blinked to bring herself back to reaslity she smiled at the other two "Sorry that happens a lot, my mind wanders alot, concentraition isn't one of my talents" she said to htem. "it's nice to meet you both I'm Emily by the way" she added.

"Cassopeia is a nice name, like the stars" she said. She tried to stop herself from day dreaming again but the gryffindor's concentraion was defiently not the best.

Peter meandered down the train keeping a hold of Ralph who was riding his shoulder as always. Stroking the albino mouse, the boy’s eyes sweep back and forth, his other hand in his jeans pocket. He’d left his trunk with the conductor to load in the baggage car. He didn’t particularly feel like dragging it through a crowded train. That was just an accident waiting to happen.

Heaving a sigh, the boy stopped in front of a compartment that held three girls. An older one and two that appeared his age. Then again, you never could tell. Girls were bigger than boys were usually when it came to this age. He’d read about that in one of the many books his parents got him and that he’d read in the local library. Boys got their growth spurts during their teenage years so he wasn’t too worried. Even if he was on the shorter spectrum for eleven year olds.

Hoping and not really caring if the girls were scared of mice, Peter stepped into the doorway, knocking on the framing. Really, they were going to a school where there were sure to be plenty of mice. They would have to get used to it. Eyes scanning the girls they stopped on the one that looked as if she wasn’t sure what to do. She had a toad sitting atop a squished sandwich. That was rather odd, and Peter liked odd. Odd usually equaled interesting. “Peter Wiggin, mind if I sit with you?”

He knew it’d be rather crowded now, but they were all eleven year olds excluding the older girl. “If not I’ll go, it’s all the same to me.” Looking at the girl with the toad though he asked, “Can I know your name though?”

"Sweet to meet you both I'm sure. Oh, the name is something stupid from the father. Hopeless romantic, you know the type. He doesn't look it though. He looks halfway between a cross-dressing pirate and a blind wand salesman."
Cass doesn't seem to think they might not know either of the two clothing stereotypes there, and laughs; after all, it is very true.

She blinks when Lavender says the word mustard, and wonders if she's at all said anything about her sandwich. A weight is lifted off her shoulder though, as she comes to terms, albeit a little disappointed. Custard always have and always will taste good with bread. Nevermind, she grins toothily.

Cass inclines her head the the girl named Emily, and tosses a few cards to her sandwich frog tower in the process. "Sorry if I've gotten any dirt on the seats, I've had my legs up. It's these hall-creepers. There's too much of a groove for climbing that I never seem to use. I like them being clunky. I feel strong in them."
She adds the last bit as a piece of trivia. Her mother always says that in a conversation you have to include manners, a fact of the world, a fact about yourself, something cheerful and then a question. She thinks she's done most so far.

She is about to ask both of them a very very impromptu (and her afterthoughts warn her it was probably going to end up being mildly offensive) question, a boy is in the doorway. He knocks, and his presence is officially known.
The boy asks a question and she double checks the eye contact is with her (not Lavender, or Emily, or even Bradley) and nods. She begins "Mi casa-" but decides that wasn't so successful a thing to say earlier and skillfully changes that into a "sure!" Quite perkily too.

"Names Cass." And as this sounds glum and she needs to get it ticked off her list, she says, "is your rat secretly a man?"

Oh no.

Was his rat-? “Ralph is not a rat!” Peter would have named him Templeton if he had. “And he is most certainly not a man.” Wherever would she get that idea from?

Sitting in the only empty seat beside Cassopeia. Looking at the odd pile in her lap he asked, “Is your frog secretly a man?”

Taking Ralph off his shoulder and setting the mouse on his lap he smiled as the creature’s nose twitched and he made his way across the boy’s lap. Nose twitching a mile a minute it looked as if the mouse had smelled the girl’s strange sandwich. He shook his head and put his hand in front of Ralph. Ralph quickly found a way to quickly overcome that obstacle by putting his front paws on Peter’s hand and trying to scramble up. Holing him and petting him with the other hand, he nodded at the strange site of the frog card sandwich. “You have your frog test your food first?”

Touché, Mr Peter. Tou bloody ché.
"Fair point Wiggum. Sorry about that." Cass likes that this Peter boy doesn't get offended. Then again, he isn't a girl, which is what most of them would do. Deep down Cass knows she definitely would if that was her, but she pretends she's better than that.

"You know," she begins, her hands finding their way to pat Bradley "if he was a man, I wouldn't be surprised. Perhaps I need to like, get him tested or something. He is quite good at Riverdancing. That's Irish. My best friend lives in Ireland you know," she adds kindly to Emily and Lavender.

She watches with interest as the mouse Ralph teases with Peter, trying to get to her side. She figures a mamping toad- er, I mean, frog in the vicinity must be threatening. Which is why his question next seemed to startle her.
"Oh." Cass thinks about it, really deliberating. Good point again, Mr Peter. Give the boy an acid pop. "Because that'd be inflicting some sick surprise on Bradley here. But luckily Miss Fearless over here-" (she indicates Lavender) "tells me it smells like Mustard. Result! Unless she is lying, of course," she smiles warmly at her, knowing that that wouldn't be the case.

Or naively thinking everyone was lovely. Even cross dressing pirates and blind wand salesmen.

“All sorts of things are possible I suppose,” Peter admitted even if the frog teaching her to dance was a bit far fetched. The information about her friend naturally followed along that conversation since he was from Ireland, the boy guessed. Looking over to the girl Cassopeia gestured to then back to the odd pile in her lap, Peter gave the sandwich a dubious look.

“That’s all fine and good unless you’re allergic to mustard. What if poor Bradley has allergies? Has he had mustard before? Then you might better want custard.”

Peter didn’t know if animals had allergies but it was safe to assume that they did. They were living creatures and so it would fall in line that they too could be susceptible to things such as allergies.

"It takes all sorts," Cass reasons equivocally, thinking at how really abysmal Bradley's imitation of dancing really is. It's just too hard to tell the animal who she thinks has a vague knowledge of the english language (and cambodian. Hm.) that he cannot dance. Raven'd have a way of letting the toad down gently, she'll think about asking him about it later, if she even sees him before the sorting. Then again if they're in the same house, she could just wait until the feast! Fingers crossed.

"Exactly! And between you and me, I sort of prefer custard. So it'd be a bit awkward. Mustard is only nice on sweet things. Savoury? Bleuch. Only stupid people would mix their condiments like that." The girl shakes her head as if that's beyond her and utterly stupid, and taps Bradley. He ribbits quietly, like he's been sleeping, and shuffles slowly off her leg. Cass notices that he doesn't look so happy and slimy today, but she hopes that once he's eaten the special mixture she's brought with her when in the Feast he'll cheer and slime right up. He eventually sits on the very end of the seat.

Thinking about that, the boy shook his head. He only really had mustard on their customary things. None of which was sweet, or so he believed. Custard on the other hand, "That's a bit tart normally isn't it?"

Peter hadn't had much custard before. Curiosity had grabbed hold of him now though so he was determined now to try some. Even if he had to go to the kitchens and find out that way. Giving the girl a smile he asked, "So suffice to say you would never mix custard and mustard together then?"

Cass mock gasps. "Are you insulting custard?" That can't be right. It'd have to be some dialect. Peter doesn't look the type to say nasty things about custard. Not many people are, actually, not that all of the offenders actually look it. That's true.

Ralph's owner posed a very good question.
"You know," she says slowly, "I haven't even thought about that. Custard and Mustard, put together. Mus-cus. Otherwise it just sounds the same."
She laughs loudly, and looks up. "You two want to try any Custard or Mustard? Put together, I mean, but if you want them on their own I suppose you could?" she smiles encouragingly, rooting through her bag.