Ravenclaw Happy Hour (Open to Leon, Sully, and whoever else)

[firstbornhart]

Leon did have a point. It was the weekend and that meant time to hit the pub. Not that Donal was against hitting the pub during the week -- just that it was technically against the rules and well, the Shaw twins were fairly good at keeping him on the straight and narrow

Comments

[glitz_n_charms]

"I'll second that."

Sully shrugged out of his coat, the big, somewhat fuzzy monstrosity that he adores more than reason would dictate, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a somewhat battered book of matches. He'd lost his lighter and, while a teeny bit of magic would make that loss not matter, he thinks that matches might be the better plan once the firewhiskey's gotten into the mix.

Sully liked the Three Broomsticks. It was cozy, noisy enough with an always entertaining mix of people, and Rosmerta was a sweetheart. It was just what was needed after a really less than pleasing afternoon.

"I might need a few more bottles of this. Maybe just fill up a tub and I'll drown myself. Hufflepuff, really." He picked up his glass with a sigh.

[mightbeclever]

"I'll drink to that," Leon said softly, taking a glass and sighing almost wistfully. He held up his glass, before looking at Sully side long. "Your sorrows? I'm sure you could find better ways to lick your wounds." He shook his head though, "better luck next time guys."

Or something like that. He'd never been good at the consoling part.

"Just find yourselves a nice you lad, fellas."

[firstbornhart]

"Better luck next time? If we lost to Hufflepuff, what chance do we stand against Slytherin or Gryffindor? We need to up our practices like 200%." Hufflepuff. He didn't even want to think about it. Mal was going to be insufferable. Her boyfriend -- the Quidditch star.

"Hmmm...now there's a thought."

[glitz_n_charms]

Sully groans. "Maybe like 300%." He takes a long swallow of his firewhiskey, the burning almost like a penance.

But he perks up a bit at that, shaking a cigarette loose of his pack and lighting it. "Indeed. Instead of perhaps drowning my sorrows in a vat of liquor, I can drown them in pretty boy's -- well." He smirks at Donal, taking a long drag off his cigarette, not sure exactly how much is appropriate with the talk about boy-touching right now. "I'll just let that statement end there, let you dirty minded people finish it for yourselves."