Winning definitely suited Wendy Tremaine. Bright eyes, flushed cheeks, inability to keep from gri--well, actually, that was what she looked like when they lost, too. It took an awful lot for Wendy to stop smiling, and even Quidditch losses couldn't keep her from her natural state for long. She'd just try harder, be more supportive of teammates, be a better team player--lots of things to improve on, she would say! It'll be all right, next time. But things always had a way of evening themselves out, she also believed, and this was a perfect example.
She stared a little dreamily out of the window their little table was seated next to, fork mid-dig in her toffee cheesecake, her mind flitting in and out of focus on the conversation. "---Oh! Yes! There were lots of parties! But most of the team stayed in one this one pub, for the majority of the time I was there. But it was drunken and boring and Quidditch players are obnoxious party people," she grinned.
If she angled herself just right, she could see Waterstones down the street. Just a slight craning of her head allowed her to see the illuminated windows, and though it was too far to make out anything besides the general size of the dark blurs that obscured the light, it was nice being in such a close vicinity to its Librarian. Wendy had been periodically moving her head to take in the view, as it looked too uncomfortable to be normal, and she wasn't sure she could give Psyke a good explanation.
Wait--wait, did she--was this--? Did this qualify as stalking? Eyes widening at the thought, she jerked her head back to look at Psyke, startled and somewhat harried smile brightening on her face.
"But enough about me! Why--how are you finding being pregnant? Names? Do you have names? Is Harper behaving himself?"
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