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Bess was a terribly sore loser, there really was no doubt about it. She was glad her daughter had a bit more tact than she because someone had to comfort Drystan after the match and not be a baby about it. Her husband had ended up hugging her and telling Bess that it would be all right, but she'd been so bloody invested this season! Of course she'd cared last year, and the year before and whatever---but this season. She wasn't working, she'd gone to every match, she'd talked to the rest of his team regularly, she had conversations about quidditch and the whole---the whole bloody sport, the whole bloody team felt like some extended part of her family and---she hated the Kestrels.

"Five minutes?" she drawled, unable to keep the put off look from her face. She let Drystan kiss her hand and she let out a long breath at the site of the quidditch cup sitting upon the Kenmare green cloth. Disgraceful. The United were perfect on parchment, and it just had to be raining, it was really the worst sort of victory for the Kestrels if you thought about it, how were those conditions fair to prove---she could go on for hours. "That's a dreadfully long time."

Really, if it hadn't been an official Q.U.A.B.B.L.E. event and if her husband had not just spoiled her with the most gorgeous pieces of jewelry for Valentine's and her birthday, Bess would have made it a point to not show up. But her gold stone jewelry and her blue dress would hopefully make up for the terribly green decor of the night. Bess turned her gaze toward Drystan, the look of disdain still evident on her face.