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Violet wasn't sure what she was doing here, really -- it wasn't as if she really knew any Quidditch players well, but Charlie had invited her out of what she assumed was some sort of gratefulness for her not trash-talking him in the rags or making their little one-night-stand public ... and she'd needed somewhere to make a bit of an appearance with her new hair. Not only was it cut, but it was coloured -- well, a little more work-appropriately. She thought it made her look quite smashing, really.
She swirled her drink absently, watching with some amusement as the paparazzi made attempts to take stealthy pictures of some of the more inebriated players. Was it really necessary for them to be so careful when the players probably wouldn't remember a thing in the morning anyway?
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