SETH
What a fucking cauldron of
codswallop this season had turned out to be. He hadn't even played half of it, and here he was supposedly celebrating Appleby's, the bloody
Arrows' league win? His sister continued to refuse to move out from his house, he
still was forced to attend Healing, and now,
now---
Michal's head lolled on his own shoulders, eventually rolling into his hand propped up against his knees.
Now the image of Larkin mounted upon Nicodemo Penrose was permanently burned into retinas. What was she even doing here? How many times had she proclaimed her extreme indifference toward quidditch, he would have ventured to guess three drinks ago. Now,
Michal was utterly convinced it was purely to torture him, and decided the only way to erase that realization was through the consumption of firewhiskey.
Penrose, bloody fucking
Penrose---
Merlin he hated that guy.
With a huff, Michal unsteadily picked his head up, blinking quickly at the reintroduction of bright light to his burned retinas. Or, well, what he thought would be bright light. A great mass had appeared before him, hovering just enough to create something of a shadow over his slumped seat. One guess who this was. His brow furrowed.
Michal rolled his eyes, and let out a disinterested (or was it disgruntled?) snort. "Cheers," he uttered mockingly, relatively raising his glass at Seth before slinging it back.
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