(no subject)
Week Name/Date/Time: 'Promises and Plans' / Thursday, 13 October / 3:00 PM
Location: Quidditch Pitch
Open To: Clover
Currently Involving: Phillip
Phillip had rushed from Defense the moment Faust had allowed them to go. He had more important things to worry about than Faust's assignments, anyhow. Like Clover and how on earth he was going to teach her to fly properly. What did he know about teaching anyone? He'd learned most of what he knew about flying from just being reckless and attempting the next crazy stunt he could think of; no one had particularly taught him much.
He paced the end of the pitch nearest the castle, waiting for her to arrive. He'd gone over his broom a thousand times out of habit, just to have something to think about. Now he was resorting to running a hand nervously through his hair, worrying whether it looked all right.
An idle thought struck him. What if this is... a date? He swallowed. He may have been a flirt, but this sort of thing wasn't really something he had much experience with. He ran his hand through his hair nervously again and began scanning the horizon for any approaching figures.
He worried for a moment if she might have changed her mind. She'd never seemed to think much of him before, even if he always had been able to charm her senseless. But now, well, now things were different. He was anxious and nervous; he didn't feel his usual self at all. And it mattered whether she thought very much of him or not.
[Thread Closed]
Location: Quidditch Pitch
Open To: Clover
Currently Involving: Phillip
Phillip had rushed from Defense the moment Faust had allowed them to go. He had more important things to worry about than Faust's assignments, anyhow. Like Clover and how on earth he was going to teach her to fly properly. What did he know about teaching anyone? He'd learned most of what he knew about flying from just being reckless and attempting the next crazy stunt he could think of; no one had particularly taught him much.
He paced the end of the pitch nearest the castle, waiting for her to arrive. He'd gone over his broom a thousand times out of habit, just to have something to think about. Now he was resorting to running a hand nervously through his hair, worrying whether it looked all right.
An idle thought struck him. What if this is... a date? He swallowed. He may have been a flirt, but this sort of thing wasn't really something he had much experience with. He ran his hand through his hair nervously again and began scanning the horizon for any approaching figures.
He worried for a moment if she might have changed her mind. She'd never seemed to think much of him before, even if he always had been able to charm her senseless. But now, well, now things were different. He was anxious and nervous; he didn't feel his usual self at all. And it mattered whether she thought very much of him or not.
[Thread Closed]