(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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[frogleygoof]

Muscle powerhouse? Troy couldn't say he wouldn't be terribly happy about being considered that. Of course, he never saw himself as such. Also, he couldn't deny that part of the reason for his Friday jogs was perhaps to pick up on birds

[frogleygoof]

Troy, not being very used to calling people negative names, really only sounded quite childish when he in fact did. "Git" was practically the only thing in his vocabulary in that respect.

Raising his eyebrow at that one, he threw the ball over to Thatcher. "Well, I'm gonna' have to take your word on that one, obviously," he replied, shuffling a bit farther. Sometimes conversation was better than practicing tackles, after all. "Meh, I think I'll be getting off the playing field soon, I reckon."

[cthatcherhale]

Catching the ball, Thatcher paused to toss it back and forth between his hands. He'd agree with Troy over the 'conversation was better than practicing tackles' bit - he'd never admit it, but sometimes practicing sports was a man's only excuse to talk man-to-man with others. Yes, manly talk under the thick disguise of manly events. Machoized the entire thing, really. Men such as Thatch and Troy weren't the type to sit about and gossip. Ah, yes, they'd stand about and gossip while throwing large, hard items at one another. See? Manly.

Brow raising, he dropped the ball to kick it to Troy. "Off the playing field? Looking for a new playing field to inhabit, then?"

[frogleygoof]

Troy ran back a bit to catch the ball, sliding a bit on his knees just for good effect. Getting back to his feet, he laughed and shrugged. "Yeah. See, I kind of embarrassed myself in front of this bloody gorgey Hufflepuff bird. Hanna, you know her?" He threw the ball back a bit harder to mix things up. His face took on an impressed expression, shaking his head. "Real looker, really. Blonde. Eyes like. . .David Bowie, all two colours and such. LOVE that. Well, anyways, I made a right arse out of myself in front of her, and then realized, I don't want to be snogging every other girl in the school. Psh, leave that to Davison's bloke."

He sighed and tugged at his hair a bit. "New playing field? Well. . .oy. Lolita, maybe?" he looked back at Thatcher warily, wondering if he'd hit a nerve.

[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

[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