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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.]

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"Right, a ball. Vaguely ball-shaped, anyway, with niches...grooves - What do you want to call them, I could show you."

With another small swig of firewhiskey, Scorpius leaves the bottle in Posner's care to retrieve a mound of snow from the ground and pack into a heavy snowball. He places it on the picnic table where he sat.

"It's bewitched to fall slowly so we've got time to fetch it before it'd reach the ground. If not, a steep, quick dive usually works. But you've got to time it perfectly.

"You can't actually reach for the ball, because you'll find your nose in the dirt, so it's all about the, uhm, the momentum and finding the right angle to pull up at and if you've done it just right, the bristle-end of your broom can hit it high enough so you can fetch it from the air.

"Anyway, this is a Quaffle."

After his explanation, he transfigures the mound of snow into a vaguely-shaped, bright red Quaffle.

"Normally, they, er, don't look like they're made of snow and could melt, though."

His magic would have been better if it hadn't been for the firewhiskey.

Posner takes another drink as Scorpius forms his snow-Quaffle. His eyes widen at the transformation, and he gives a definitely tipsy-sounding laugh, impressed despite the quality of the magic.

"Who bewitches them? Is it the players? Do people ever crash into the ground? What happens if someone gets injured?"

Usually he's better at controlling the questions that spill out of his mouth, but his judgment is slightly impaired just now.

Picking up the Quaffle, the consistency of it mushy and spongy to the touch, Scorpius sets it in his lap as he returns to his seat.

"No, they're officially bewitched or bewitched officially, prior-to any games. It's all very ...official."

He can almost mold the snow-made Quaffle to another shape, yet it always returns to its original Quaffle-shaped form after moments of messing around with it.

"Accidents happen all the time. I meant it when I said the Beaters are usually trying to kill everyone with the Bludgers. They might as well be, anyway. I've been knocked off my broom more than once. Nothing a trip to the hospital wing won't fix, generally. Death and disappearances, aside. The game usually goes on."

Posner watches the Quaffle in fascination, reaching out once to tentatively poke at it.

"Has anyone ever died in a school match?" He's quite impressed, really, that Scorpius plays a game he could possibly be killed in.

"Oh no, I don't think so. Nearly, maybe, but not quite. Honestly, I think it's only happened once or twice before in the history of the game. It'd of had to involve some serious fouls. We do have our rules," Scorpius says, handing the snow-made Quaffle to Posner for further inspection.

"It's not normally like that. I must not have finished the transfiguration properly."

He is somewhat drunk, after all.

Posner tries a bit of impromptu sculpting on the Quaffle, delighted when it moves back into its former shape.

"It's brilliant! I could never do something like that."

He pauses, frowning as he thinks about that. "I mean, obviously, I couldn't, because I'm not a wizard, but still. Brilliant."

Scorpius turns red in the cheeks.

"Er, thanks. It's, uhm... Well, it'd have been better if I wasn't pissed."

(Which he isn't boasting about, only stating the simple fact that it would have been.)

"But, Muggles can be rather fascinating too. I mean, you do have those computer things and such. You build all sorts of things without magic."

Posner bumps his shoulder companionably. "I'd take magic over computers any day. Most people don't even own a computer, really."

At least, not when Posner is from.

"And anyone can build things."

After a moment, he adds, out of the blue, "Oh, god. We are pissed, aren't we? Or I am...I think..."

Scorpius, as if taking the question quite seriously, observes Posner for a long moment.

He's appraising the level of drunkness in the other boy. It involes some staring.

"I," he says, with somewhat of a dramatic pause, "don't think you've had enough yet to be properly pissed. Nearly there."

Posner stares quite seriously back as he's appraised, eyebrows raised as he awaits the verdict.

He nods at the assessment. "I've never had anything that strong before."

"No? I've been having it for ages now. Not from that particular bottle, of course. Because that'd involve ridiculously small sips to have lasted this long."

He picks up the aforementioned bottle with a frown.

"But, since I was thirteen, I think. Which isn't to say I always drink like this, only that I think I forgot how strong it can be."

Which is all a ridiculously long way to go about asking, "So. Aside from that, what are you thoughts on it then?"

Posner considers the question a moment.

"It's...interesting.

"Am I meant to feel all tingly?" He purses his lips a few times, testing the sensation.

Scorpius presses his own lips together in consideration.

They'd probably look completely silly to any outsiders watching.

"I think, yes. Tingly would be normal."

"My lips and my tongue, mostly," Posner says, smacking his lips a few times.

"But it's...sort of nice. Not like when your foot falls asleep."

"I wonder if you were pissed when your foot fell asleep, if it'd be as awful as it normally is," Scorpius says, looking deep in thought. "Because I hate that feeling, too. I don't think I know anyone who enjoys that, actually."

Edited 2011-01-05 05:27 (UTC)

"You should try it," Posner says, like this is the most brilliant idea ever. "Sit on your foot!"

It only takes one look down at his booted foot before Scorpius shrugs and arranges himself to do just that.

It can't be a very difficult or dangerous challenge, can it?

"This might take awhile."

Edited 2011-01-05 05:55 (UTC)

"Hm, I reckon you're right."

He frowns, considering the problem. "I suppose we'll have to find a way to amuse ourselves until then..."

As if faced with one of life's greatest mysteries, Scorpius is stumped.

"Er, well, I can't actually move much so that limits us a fair bit. You look thoughtful, any ideas?"

Posner thinks for a minute again.

"Truth or dare?"

Scorpius, because of his rather isolated ways, has never actually been afforded the opportunity to play Truth or Dare before.

He blinks at Posner.

"Er. Truth?"

"Hmm..." Posner is totally unaware of his inexperience. Who hasn't played Truth or Dare, after all?

"Have you...ever kissed someone?"

He's assuming he has to answer that truthfully now. Veritaserum would surely help with this sort of thing. Not that Scorpius would need it for this particular question.

"Uhm. Yes," he says, suddenly shyer than he had been a moment ago.

The details are painfully boring and he isn't sure he needs to provide them, anyway.

Posner nods thoughtfully, reaching for the bottle to have another drink. Sometimes he wonders if he isn't the only person his age who's never kissed someone.

(Other times he's completely certain that Dakin's the only one of his classmates who has.)

"Your turn, then."

His turn?

"Oh, right. Uhm. Truth or dare, then."

That is how it goes, right?