(Untitled)

[frogleygoof]

Week Name/Date/Time: ‘Natural Disaster’ / Friday, 17 February 2006 / 3:09 PM.
Location: Grounds, Courtyard
Open To: Thatcher
Currently Involving: Troy

So. Maybe things were looking the slightest bit up. He'd spoken to Lolita as well as Hanna, had a week to chill out and get rid of his mardy, and all-around, Troy was feeling a lot better. He'd meditated

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[cthatcherhale]

"Good move," Thatcher murmured, then grinned as his friend's fancy catch. He tried to match it - dashing out to catch the ball and doing a little turn just seconds before it was meant to drop in his hands. Surely there were birds somewhere about, and in as much as the boys needed their Macho Man-Talk While Holding Up a Visage of Rugby time, they could use the impressed expression of a few girls at the same time.

Hanna? Ahhh.. Hanna. Yes, Thatcher knew of her. "Yeah," he replied, grin staying as he turned to do an under-arm pass to Troy. "And good choice, mate. You don't want to be snogging every girl in school, you know, like me." Bigger grin. "Or hell, forget bloody Davison's bloke. Davison herself. I've heard she swings quite a few ways, and might just have a better reputation with the ladies than that which I've got."

Thatcher was apparently on a Davison-Insulting Spree that month. He was glad, however, that Troy dropped the L-bomb after Thatch passed the ball to him, otherwise he would have dropped it. "Lolita?" he asked, expression actually surprised. "...you've a death wish? Because if you do, I know a couple of people that could put you out of your misery in a much, much more humane manner."

[frogleygoof]

Troy snickered childishly, also upping the effort on the showiness. Though apparently, Thatcher was a lot better at that than he was. "You too, ol' chap," he laughed and only sort of wished they were playing football. Frogley had the perfect fancy-footwork moves on that sport.

He laughed deviously at Thatcher's accusation of the girl. True, Troy was far from happy with her at the moment, or for the past month. He'd been on the same Insulting Tirade that Thatcher would have been on. It could be a combination of the blasted bird insulting him, or intruding into time with Lolita, or the Quidditch control jealousy, or all around just being a right bint. As Troy would have said. Though he'd probably call her a few muggle terms that were a bit worse. "Make it anything with a pulse. Or a mouth, really. She's most likely that desperate." He sounded right childish and cheeky as he snickered, "Psh, now you're just trying to spread gossip." Blimey. . .the bird probably deserved scandal like that. He wouldn't be opposed to it.

Troy shrugged, knowing full well it was true. Though really, he expected Thatcher to beat him up for it, after seeing how keen he seemed to be on her when they discovered the fight.

"True. I know. Terrible, really," he sighed, throwing the ball back with less effort than usual. "Ah well. Unimportant."