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"Brianna."

Arista didn't know if she was in the mood to absolutely lose herself at a party, or if she wanted to hide inside a hole for the rest of her life. Or at least the start of the European Cup. The season had gone from exhilarating to possibly the most embarrassing she'd ever played, because of how far Pride had fallen so fast. Redemption at the European Cup did not appeal to her. In fact, she considered hanging up her broom and never again playing the game of Quidditch.

Since that was getting to be melodramatic, even for her, so she thought it best to not remain in her own company any longer. Instead, Arista had gotten the name of the biggest party for the night, informed Brianna she had positively no choice but to accompany her, and had now spent the majority of the night staring down a fourth flute of champagne, telling herself no.

"Brianna, I am—will you stop staring, I said it's—"

It was not helping that there were multiple people attending this party that she wished to avoid. Feeling as if every time she turned around, she had to turn right back the other way, Arista made up her mind to snag that fourth glass when a tray floated past her again. She had her hand wrapped around Brianna's wrist, intent on dragging her back into the dance floor, when she got a hard elbow in the ribs. Scowling, she turned to demand why, when she saw Brianna staring and tossing her head meaningfully in one direction. Arista turned to look in the indicated direction, then whipped her head back, shaking her own head furiously at Brianna, and narrowing her eyes.

The person in question had already been the subject of the third most severe dressing down Arista had received in her life, and she had hoped once Brianna had gotten that out of her system, it would be the close of the subject between them. That did not appear to be so, given the strength with which her friend was now tugging on her skirt.

"Brianna, don't you dare—stop, don't—no, no, I'm not—!"

But her pleas (and snarls and threats) fell on deaf ears, as the witch she called her closest friend shoved her squarely in the back, sending her sailing right into his not-quite-waiting arms.