(Untitled)
Week Name/Date/Time: 'Settling Down' / Thursday, 24th November 2005 / 5 p.m.
Location: Quidditch Pitch
Open to: Anyone!!
Currently involving: Ellie
( Broomclosets. Yum! )
Location: Quidditch Pitch
Open to: Anyone!!
Currently involving: Ellie
( Broomclosets. Yum! )
Comments 6
Now was definitely the time to make his move-- er, to court-- ah, well to assist the ever so delectable and delightful Miss Ellie Lynn Wulff if she should require any aide in her most assuredly taxing work! And, of course, this was one of his many areas of expertise. (Quidditch, snogging, women, snogging, brawling, tempting death, snogging, championing the cause of win and awesome, snogging... in no particular order. Did we mention snogging?) It was of no consequence that in his last year at school he was no longer on the team -- for personal reasons that were nobody's business, thank ye kindly and keep right on walking, sir. Quidditch (and the broomshed) were longtime friends of one Autolycus Sly. He'd made intimate use of both.
Waggle. Waggle.
He'd been tempted to sashay in there when Miss Ellie went in, but at the sound of all the ruckus she was making on her own, he decided she was quite focused and so biding his time would be best. He posed quite elegantly, leaning against one of the goal posts just so, hands in his ( ... )
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But it was when she looked up to see a bouncily swaggering Autolycus Sly that she realized the broomshed must have gotten some bit of love and attention from some people. Namely him, and any random birds he'd talked into joining him! Sneaky git.
At the use of her first name, she grinned. Not exactly approving, but definitely not complaining, she waggled her finger at him lightly while giving a rather silly quirk of her lips. "I believe it's supposed to be something like... Madam Wulff. Or would it be Mme. Wulff? Bugger, I don't know; but 'Miss Ellie' makes me sound like your primary school teacher. In which case your devious expression and wiggly eyebrows would certainly be inappropriate ( ... )
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"Er, blue." He scratched his head, and smoothly slung his arm about her shoulders, leaning casually as he took in the whole of the shed and its "ambiance." That's what he was doing, of course. Not an excuse to touch a pretty lassie who was off limits, except that it totally was and they both knew it and he was just waiting for the slap or the punch that was coming next. Hoping for it, even? "Now, ye wouldn't be tryin' to insult a Gryffindor lad, would ye? Such a thing s'not in yuir character, not a lovely girl like yuirself, tut. No, t'must be somet'in else. Colorblind, I expect," he mused in a completely wicked fashion, watching her from the corners of ( ... )
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She smirked, then leaned back against him lazily, nodding as he looked over the shed. "Oh, insult you? Goodness no, why would you ever think such a thing?" she murmured, feigning shock. "See, that red paint peels horribly. And we all know that red is temperamental and therefore it merely causes itself grief. Blue, though. Blue's calm, y'see. Wouldn't cause a fuss up there on the shed!"
She grinned, looking to him as her arms crossed over her chest. It was a defensive move, in a sense, but it also held an air of comfort. As if she were perfectly content playing about with the student.
And bollocks to that! He was a fit bloke, surely he was near-eighteen. If not already! Pfft.
She gasped lightly as he suggested that she was colorblind, then gave him a nudge with her hip. "I am not!" she replied, eyes gazing at him mischievously ( ... )
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