milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Removing the snow from atop the wooden picnic table had been easy enough and Scorpius, now with his robes properly charmed to repel water and insulated to protect him from the cold, is lying atop of it.

With an almost half-empty bottle of (pilfered-from-his-friend) Ogden's Old forgotten beside him, a fire curling in his belly, and an old, charred broom at his feet.

He had been working on a modified charm for the broom. It hadn't turned out as well as he would've liked, as evident by the charred (and still smoking) remains of bristles.

He's obviously not too bothered by the experiment gone wrong. Maybe the firewhiskey helped or maybe it's just one of those days. Peacefully perfect - or perfectly peaceful - and he can't be bothered to care.

He's just going to enjoy the oncoming night, gloved fingers curled loosely around the neck of the bottle.

[OOC: Back! Open until it scrolls.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

While half the bottle might nearly be gone, Scorpius hasn't had it all for himself. He's not absurdly drunk, anyway.

And he won't suffer much for what he has had. A good night's sleep and potion would cure him of any headache and nausea in the morning.

"What were you working on in the forge?"

"Not much. I'm between things so making some horseshoes and arrowheads along with some small repairs."

"How'd that one thing go? Sorry, I forgot what it was, but you were working on it when we met?"

His brow furrows as he tries to remember. It's probably not very important, seeing as it was ages ago, but he'd only remembered it just now.

"I think you were looking at locks?"

"A cabinet for Mia, I finished it a while ago. Are you done with school for the year?"

"Not quite," Scorpius grumps and then shrugs. "I've actually got Quidditch practice in the morning. The captain wants us on the pitch early."

He gives the bottle another glance.

"I probably shouldn't have anymore, remembering that."

"I can make some tea if that would help,"

He doesn't seem happy but Sam's not good with people.

"No, don't bother. The captain will be displeased, but I don't think he's ever happy with us, anyway. He's very..."

Scorpius furrow his brow, as if in imitation.

"...serious. Very, very serious about his Quidditch. I think he'll go on to play professionally, actually."

"Oh that sort. They win games but aren't always fun."

"Not always, no," Scorpius agrees with a laugh. "He has us running around on the ground. For a game that involves flying."

He shrugs, still grinning, rather goofy-like.

"But, he isn't that awful. I've learned some neat tricks from him."

"It never hurts to know how to run, keeps you on your toes. If you want another way to practice, I need to do some sparring,"

Since clearly using a sword will help just as much.

"Maybe it doesn't hurt to know, but that doesn't mean I want to be doing so at half five in the morning."

He raises an eyebrow.

"Sparring?"

"Swords, I try and practice but I've been sick so haven't for a while."

"I don't think... I don't know... If I'd be very good at that sort of thing."

Especially not while as inebriated as he is. He clumsily mimes swinging a sword.

"Not now, but maybe another time. Its not that hard."

Another time?

"Why not," Scorpius says, cheerfully so.

He's generally fond of new adventures, but, in this particular case, liquid courage might be playing some role in his agreeing to.

"Its almost night time and too dark to do anything,"

Also that whiskey is potent.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only