"Perhaps," Ludo said with a wink, "But you know us quidditch players. We rather enjoy walking on the wild side." With his arm still around Greta, he slowly guided her towards the door. There was something thrilling about this exact moment. There was the fact that the other birds in the room were jealously staring in their direction, yes, but there was more--Greta Catchlove was fully aware of Ludo as an individual and she was still willing to give him the time of day. This wasn't some fling because he was a quidditch star, after all. Or maybe it was. But she still knew more about him than any of the other birds he'd found his way to the pub with in the past few years.
The air was warm outside, though one could tell it was ready to cool off into the crisp evenings of Fall any day now. Despite this, Ludo still kept his arm around her for warmth. "So, when Greta Catchlove decides to celebrate, what's her drink of choice?" Ludo asked curiously. He had thoughts about what she might say--she didn't seem like the straight liquor type to him...maybe something like a daquiri or a martini? A dirty martini sounded bloody brilliant right about then.
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