Carys wasn't expecting that answer, she had been waiting for some snarky comment about the referee. Her eyebrows went high at Drake Parkin's words, and she slid up onto a stool, her elbow pressing into the counter as she mused, "Ohh, Parkin, I really think you need to rephrase that sentence. Allow women to play quidditch? Really?"
Her eyes narrowed as she repeated the remark. She didn't particularly know Parkin very well, but seeing as he was on the Magpies and was the only one not to have some sort of controversy this past year (save for the Canadian import--), that must mean he kept to himself...or at least, was really, really good at hiding his indiscretions. Or was he just a total prat and the reporters had learned to avoid him because of it? Carys didn't know, or particularly care, but she wasn't going to stay quiet with a comment like that.
"Does being a quidditch player mean I have to leave all my femininity behind?" she asked, checking out her perfectly manicured nails. Carys was the youngest of three sisters, and from the time she could sit up on her own, her father had her on a broom. Gender roles were never an issue in the Llewellyn home, which was probably why they didn't get on too well with their more traditional relatives.
"Gotta be tough, since it's such a manly sport, yeah?"
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