Tables were set up around the outside of the Great Hall - several smaller ones set up for sitting, eating, and conversation, as well as a few long tables covered with food and drink options
( Read more... )
Well, she didn't have a present, but she figured showing without one was better than not showing up at all. And he had been rather nice to her, teaching her how to fly.
She ambled in and made a beeline for the punch table. She's not exactly the life of the party, and he'll come 'round, she's sure.
One might say that Tyrion had been sulking and/or brooding for the past week. One would be right to do so, although Tyrion, of course, would have to dispute that opinion.
He'd decided to come to the party, though, not because he knew Sirius or anything, but because he was a fan of free booze.
He was slightly flummoxed upon entering to discover that he didn't actually know anyone except the other sarcastic crippled man, but, having spotted the well-stocked bar, he gamely hobbled into the room.
House appeared to be in conversation, so Tyrion made his way over to a woman standing by the punch bowl. He picked up a cup, eyed the punch skeptically and inquired, "If anyone drinks that, they aren't going to be poisoned or enchanted, are they?" Because he was really, really not up for either option tonight.
"God only knows," she says, with a snort. She brushed at the bottom of her buttondown shirt and sniffed at the cup in her own hand. "It smells like fruit, at least. I don't know if magic has a scent, but it's not obviously bad."
She wasn't nearly as startled as she pretended to be, but it was an excellent excuse to 'jump' and swing around and splash a nice bit of her cup of punch on his coat. In retribution, of course.
"Oops," she offered, innocently, and then she sipped the punch.
"Ha ha," I said, taking it and dabbing at my coat--thank God for house-elf laundry service. "You just wanted to cover me in soylent green, didn't you?"
"It makes an interesting fashion statement," Tyrion remarked, having decided what the hell. So far, no one had spiked the punch, but he'd decided the well-stocked bar was more definitely to his taste.
I raised both eyebrows at that. "...You have some weird dreams, Murph," I said, managing to bite my tongue before I added, my coat, or me specifically? See, I do have a few social skills.
"Yep." She sips her punch innocently, watching him over the cup. "Among other things." That should be enough to keep him off balance for a while. Time to change the subject!
She leans against the wall thoughtfully. "I need to get a wand. Have you gotten one already?"
She timed that so I'd sputter--I know she did. Trying to cough gracefully (and failing), I wiped my mouth on my sleeve.
"Not yet," I said. "Still be using the staff...there's supposed to be a shop that sells them somewhere in London." I couldn't for the life of me remember the name, but I knew it was there.
She ambled in and made a beeline for the punch table. She's not exactly the life of the party, and he'll come 'round, she's sure.
Reply
He'd decided to come to the party, though, not because he knew Sirius or anything, but because he was a fan of free booze.
He was slightly flummoxed upon entering to discover that he didn't actually know anyone except the other sarcastic crippled man, but, having spotted the well-stocked bar, he gamely hobbled into the room.
House appeared to be in conversation, so Tyrion made his way over to a woman standing by the punch bowl. He picked up a cup, eyed the punch skeptically and inquired, "If anyone drinks that, they aren't going to be poisoned or enchanted, are they?" Because he was really, really not up for either option tonight.
Reply
Reply
"Magic smells like soylent green," I said gravely, sneaking up behind her in flagrant disregard of my own personal safety.
Reply
"Oops," she offered, innocently, and then she sipped the punch.
Reply
"Nice to see you too, Murph," I said, raising an eyebrow. "You greet everyone like that?"
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
"Do any of them involve any other, um, food products?" I asked, fighting an extremely juvenile urge to snicker as I ladled some punch into a cup.
Reply
She leans against the wall thoughtfully. "I need to get a wand. Have you gotten one already?"
Reply
"Not yet," I said. "Still be using the staff...there's supposed to be a shop that sells them somewhere in London." I couldn't for the life of me remember the name, but I knew it was there.
Reply
Leave a comment