(Untitled)
Week Name/Date/Time: ‘Picking Up the Pieces’ / Tuesday, 14 February 2006 / 7:30 PM
Location: courtyard near Great Hall
Open To: Troy. Durrr.
Currently Involving: Lolita
Much at the same time that a hundred different couples were snogging it up in the Great Hall (under the horrified gazes of ten professors, no less), Lolita Damon was skipping dinner and ( Read more... )
Location: courtyard near Great Hall
Open To: Troy. Durrr.
Currently Involving: Lolita
Much at the same time that a hundred different couples were snogging it up in the Great Hall (under the horrified gazes of ten professors, no less), Lolita Damon was skipping dinner and ( Read more... )
Troy bobbed his head back and forth a bit. "How many people living today are as good at it as I am?!" He held his arms out a bit, gesturing to himself. "Really now. I got an owl from some Falcons thing a while back. . .Who knows? I just hope we play some bloody Quidditch soon." He raised his eyebrows a bit, "It's not unrealistic!" He pouted a bit, and lowered his tone. "Is it? You don't think I'm utter shite, do you?"
He looked at her a bit warily, as if perhaps his dream, his goal, his plan was all a sham. Or if it was simply childish to even want to be a Quidditch athlete. "Well. . .yeah. I think so. I think if I get out there soon enough, I might play in some minor leagues, and then maybe work my way up. I mean, I know I'm at a disadvantage already, with that skank taking my spot, but. . ." Now he was rambling. Troy took a breath and tried to calm himself from the fear of his whole life's goal crashing down around him. (Hey, nobody ever said he wasn't gullible to a fault!) So, he finished with a solid "Yes. I do."
He seemed to give a sigh of relief. "Well, I dunno. It's nothing to me really. I just assumed if you didn't kill him already, that means you might have. . .er. . .never mind. Not important." Well. He wasn't about to say what he REALLY wanted to say to her, which was something along the lines of 'Because I love you and I hated Hale even looking at you like that.' Nope. Wasn't gonna' happen. Troy did ask blunt questions like that, mainly because he didn't have the common sense or social know-how to tell if a question probably shouldn't have been asked.
"Or just dodging all the bloody birds swooning over how lovely Val's Day is, right?" he smirked, even admitting this year, the holiday was a painful bore. In previous years he'd done the whole romantic snoggy thing, but now? Not worth it, really. "Fatigue from the sappiness and just how bollocks the whole day is. At least that's my excuse."
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"Falcons?" Lolita repeated, thinking that if she heard the word again, it might click in her memory somehow. Nope. Still didn't do a thing. "I've never heard of them. I wouldn't go playing for some obscure team, if I were you." After a second's thought, she added, "You don't suck, but the chance isn't good. Some people get contracts simply for being in the right place at the right time. And really, Troy, you're never in either one. I suppose you could start stalking talent agents, but..." She shrugged. "You'll run the risk of arrest."
Lolita held up her hands as if to say that her words were only words of warning. "If you want to, go for it, by all means. I'm not trying to discourage you; I'm telling you to think. For once. Truthfully, it's nice that you're so optimistic. But optimism always gets crushed somewhere along the way by some major trauma. Here's to hoping you don't get smushed." She was being completely honest--she didn't know if Troy could take being crushed. He was too...perpetually happy.
Ahhh. Troy was going to work his way up? THERE was a viewpoint Lolita had totally missed. It had never occurred to her that it might be effected to slowly climb to the top; she'd always wondered how hard it'd be just to burst in, banners flying, and own whatever goal one was trying to reach. That was more her approach. No wonder she was always fearing failure. With THAT approach, your chances weren't too great, eh?
"It's not wise to kill someone in school. Every bit of evidence can be traced," Lolita explained, joking but sounding perfectly serious. Her attempts at sarcasm generally weren't very effective for that reason. Ehh. "There are eyes and ears in every inch of this blasted campus." She looked at Troy curiously, expecting a better explanation, but dropped it when she thought that perhaps he was too air-headed to know his own reasons for asking.
But his musings were surprisingly close to the mark. Lolita couldn't hold back a small laugh. "I think you're right," she replied. "A crushing weight, it is. Frankly, I think my brain is rotting in my skull from inhaling all the sappy fumes in the air." Lovely thought there. Heh.
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"We'll see, we shall," he shrugged, not seeing how he could fail. Of course, he was too blindly optimistic to realize that perhaps this would be more difficult than he expected. His naivetie convinced him that one letter meant he had what it took, even if he was just put into a reserve team after graduating. After all, there was always that one Gryffindor captain 10 years ago who entered the Puddlemere United reserves after graduating. "I thought," he nodded. "I think I'm. . .in good shape." He'd always seen his perpetual happiness (well, of course, minus the mopey week he'd had) as a very good thing. Confidence and positivity got him very far. Or at least he was too blind to see thr truth.
He beamed with admiration, and sighed deeply. "Psh. No bloody kidding. Makes you wonder what else all these kids've got to do if they resort to gossipping constantly."
"It's weird. At first I was all depressed because I had no bird to share it with, with Sam with Delouise now, and Ami gone, and all. But. . .I'm bloody glad I don't have to bother with it all." Troy added this as if he'd said Well, I'd really only want to spend it with you. But of course, he'd never be able to say it aloud. "Y'know what I mean? I've been napping all day to stay away from everyone ooh-ing and aah-ing over their flavours of the week."
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"That breaking heads thing sounds like Avis Abernathy," Lolita said, thinking of the pyromaniac fifth year Gryff that she thought would make a great sister. Lolita would gladly trade her two crazy-arse little brothers for Avis, any day. "But no, actually, I've not heard of them. Or maybe I have, but there're TOO many bloody teams that call themselves the 'falcons'. It's getting rather pathetic. Someday there'll be a falcons vs. falcon game that'll make fans go blind with confusion."
As for a favorite team of hers...Lolita frankly had no idea. "All teams will be a disappointment if you give 'em enough time." Never an optimist, she was. Never. In complete contrast with Troy, which was further proof that they'd never match well enough to be--aaah...to be nothing. Lolita was most definitely NOT thinking of anything. Not at all. Ahem.
"Hmm. We I suppose will see, in time. Good luck." It took quite a bit of effort to keep from adding, "you'll need it," but when the words never escaped her lips, Lolita was oddly proud of herself. Finally--self-control!
"Psh. No bloody kidding. Makes you wonder what else all these kids've got to do if they resort to gossipping constantly."
"Oh, that's easy," Lolita replied instantly, shrugging. "Nothing. They just laze about, but when something soap-opera-like comes up, they jump to life. Like...like cheesy jack-in-the-boxes...or summat."
Sam with DeLouise. Uhhh...was Lolita to take that as meaning, 'oooh if Sam were single, I'd totally go after her AGAIN"? Momentarily doubtful, Lolita was slow in responding, but hopefully not so slow as to let Troy catch on to something. She could NOT allow that.
When she'd finally jolted herself awake, Lolita nodded and replied, "I know the feeling well. But I, unlike you, haven't had the luxury of sleeping through half the day." Cue a very Lolita-esque smirk to get back in her own shoes. Worrying about Troy was proving to be quite taxing on her personality. For one, she was losing touch with her 'lone eagle' sorta thing going on...
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Troy tried to think of any other professional sports teams that called themselves the Falcons. He couldn't really think of any, so he shrugged and tilted his head a bit. And then looked at her exasperatedly, or fakely so, at her mentioning of disappointments. "That's what makes it so bloody brilliant! Teams always changing, cheering for the underdog, that sorta thing! Y'know? Dissappointments can always go from that to. . .the best team in history in a matter of years! It's always a surprise!"
Troy didn't perhaps mean it like that, per se, with the Sam and Darin deal. He meant it more as. . .the bird had gone from Grade A to, well, down the ladder. More of a 'What's with that?! She's gone to HIM?!' Though that may have been the Quidditch rivalry affecting his judgement. He remembered one particularly heated row on the pitch with Darin, years back, causing Troy to actually get kicked out of the game. He got right git-ish when it came to Quidditch, especially rivalries, threats to his success. Troy took Quidditch seriously. To the point of scary.
"Oh yeah?" he said deviously. "Well, what have you been doing this lovely Valentine's Day? Waiting around for me? Making Valentines? Snogging some bloke in a corridor, all secretive?" He braced himself for a punch, sort of biting his tongue and waggling his eyebrows cheekily at her.
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"Brilliant? Please, the champions and underdogs switch out every year or so, it seems. It's like a pre-set schedule they all operate on, almost as if they plan things so all fans are happy in the long run, and always get a chance to blow all their pocket-money on team memorabilia during a short-lived winning streak. Conspiracy, is all it is." Uh. She sounded quite a bit more cynical than normal for someone barely eighteen, but then, Lolita may not have been very normal at all.
Wheeew. Troy apparently hadn't noticed her delayed response to his reminiscences about Sam and Ami. Figuring she shouldn't draw attention to her shortcoming(s), Lolita decided to just drop it and look interested in Troy's past love life. ...Rather difficult task, it was.
She could not, however, keep a mild look of disgust from her face. It wasn't that Sam was a bad person--really, she wasn't. Even Lolita would admit the girl was generally pleasant to everyone. The trouble was that she was smart and pretty and modest and had blokes lining up at her door just for a glance. THAT was irritating, and might've made Lolita incredibly jealous if she weren't Lolita. (Given the actual circumstances, though, Lolita was more prone just to stand around scowling.)
'Bloody arse,' Lolita was tempted to snap at Troy, but impressively kept it to herself and instead elbowed him in the ribs, a kindly, lax gesture by her standards. Had it been anyone else who'd teased her like that, the poor guy would likely find himself bruised and on the floor in a matter of seconds. Chyeah.
"I don't take lightly to those jokes, Frogley," she warned him. "Don't be going all Thatcher Hale on me, now. What have I been doing today? I've been putting up with his colourful comments, that's what."
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He also bit his lip and sighed disappointedly at her cynicism. He tried to think of if that would have been true, maybe all these fat rich men in pinstripes smoking cigars and playing poker games to see what team would be best in the league in a given season. Kind of seemed like muggle 1920's horseracing, to him. . .And there was the perfect example of his overactive imagination running away with him. Especially when he thought of that old Robert Redford and Paul Newman movie. . .Ah, the perils of being muggleborn in a wizarding world. Nobody knew what "The Sting" was, and he wasn't going to make himself sound even more muggle, especially not to Lolita. No, his odd daydreamy moments would have to remain in his brain.
Instead he grinned, eyes flashing and looking all goofy in classic Troy Frogley fashion. "You have now?!" he tilted his head and bit his tongue, nodding. "Well, I think you're good at tolerating that. At least better than you used to be. Maybe over time, your defenses have been crumbling. Not that it's a bad thing at all. I rather like it."
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She took notice of Troy's dejected sigh, and almost felt bad for pointing out all the cons of his naive belief in the saying 'you can do anything you put your mind to'. Personally, Lolita thought that sentence was bull, but that didn't mean she could ruin the notion for more naive people. Namely, Troy Frogley. "Agh, sorry about that. I am a wet blanket," she said, sounding as if she'd known it forever, but truly, it'd just dawned on her. Her slow reaction time was pretty sad, considering that Troy had been chiding her about her cynicism for ages already.
Lolita didn't mind muggleness, really. She was only a halfblood herself, and thought the elitist vein running through the wizarding world was nearly--if not definitely--just as insane as the Dark Lord himself (killing people and making yourself out as some sort of god? Definitely didn't translate to 'normal'...). The only issue she might've had with muggleness was that its pop culture was entirely lost on her. Like whoa. Beckham was one thing; he was everywhere. The Sting was...not. At least, not to Lolita's knowledge.
"I don't," Lolita shot back sharply at Troy's declaration, then realised what she was denying. "What defenses? I don't know what you're talking about," she insisted, looking perfectly innocent.
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Troy shrugged, "Nah, it's fine." He knew better than to say something along the lines of 'Well, yes, you are.' Besides, he didn't mind, per se. Sure, it was a bit discouraging, but he'd put up with it. It was LOLITA, of course. He'd put up with anything she threw his way.
Laughing and stepping back, he nodded and put on much the same innocent expression. "Right. Must just be another bird I'm focusing on," he playfully replied. "Must be a misunderstanding, of course." That was how Troy saw it; perhaps someday she'd give into his compliments and signs of caring for her deeply, maybe someday she'd realize. The odds were against Troy, but it was a struggle, a war he was willing to fight. Or just keep dropping hints and teasing her like this, staying blissfully unaware and silently hoping every jeer and 'Get a life, Frog' was in actuality a sign of something. . .What that something was, he didn't know. He could only hope it was something similar to what he felt towards her.
"Bleh, must be all this Val's Day shite getting to my head and messing it all up!" he laughed, still looking at her closely.
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