WHO: Therese Bonaccord and Michal Conway Lynch~
WHAT: MRMM surprisingly precious thread
WHERE: Bar/lounge/thing
WHEN: Last weekend!



She stared curiously across the room at the rather rowdy group from Italy, seemingly celebrating the fact that they were basically eliminated from play and were taking advantage of the free drinks and the beautiful hotel. The bar area was impressive and secluded; the dim lights highlighted the intricate art on display and the booths were carved into the walls for a bit of privacy, which was where they had settled. Therese had not wanted to venture far from the hotel where Michal was staying, blaming a bad portkey trip on her desire to stay in.

The past week had been strangely normal. She’d gone to work on Monday as if her weekend hadn’t been wracked with tears and pain, she’d gotten some cleaning done and actually did a bit of shopping. Mackenzie had been wonderful in her distraction tactics and while Therese had questioned her trip to Istanbul, she decided that a change of atmosphere was needed. She was already pleased enough simply to have Michal’s strong arm over her shoulders and Therese felt so relaxed in the position in the booth, though she could be confusing relaxation with exhaustion, that she completely missed what he was saying.

“Hm?” she hummed, breaking herself out of her silent reverie to look up at him. She reached up to take hold of his hand that rested on her shoulder, feeling a bit lightheaded from the one drink she’d had; when was the last time she’d eaten? “Sorry, the Italians are---distracting.”

Michal frowned slightly, but wasn’t bothered by Therese’s seeming moment of distraction. The Italians were attention-grabbing, per their usual reputation at international tournaments. And it seemed that this time around was no exception to their notoriousness; one of Michal’s teammates took up a good amount of his time that could have otherwise been spent not talking in Polish complaining about how the Italian seeker kept sending pastries and flowers to her room accompanied with highly inappropriate notes.

How horrible. He could think of a lot worse things to have happen to you. Like, oh... he didn’t know, perhaps experiencing such a drunken night that you and your friends wake up in a foreign jail with little idea with what had happened in the last twelve hours? And, only after to be told, vehemently, in Polish, that he was on cienki lód, thin ice, and just wait until he returned to Great Britain because then W.A.G.S. would retain full custody of his wreck of a public image, and they would not take so kindly to this indiscretion with such a blistering hangover it was ungodly.

Perhaps that was a bit too harsh.

He pressed his lips together, immediately warding off any (which was not many), thoughts about that night. It was in the past, and... not much could be done about it. He supposed. So, instead of thinking about it further, Michal leaned in closer toward Therese, and through her hold pointed with his hand toward the Italian group.

“That one, the seeker,” he started, ducking his head a bit as he spoke. “He’s been driving Irena mad. Keeps trying to talk to her and give her things so she’ll agree to see him.” Michal’s lips pressed together in a slightly amused manner. “Got a nice box of chocolates from that.”

Therese bit back a frown at the mention of the seeker’s advances, wondering how much of those antics were really going on in a hotel or two full of internationally renown and quite fit quidditch players who were separated from their significant others by a few different countries and time zones. Her initial reaction to Michal’s arrest had not been so seemingly nonchalant as she had made it out to be; Mackenzie had immediately been owled as Therese’s heightened emotions had her mind reeling with the worst possible of situations. After being talked down, it became easier to see how a rowdy night could have led to such events. And, she had come to realize, she trusted Michal. That had been a startling admittance even to herself, but Therese had decided that she did in fact have faith in her boyfriend.

Which of course was good, but it also made her wonder if her decision to keep the details of her miscarriage to herself until after the tournament was the right choice. She felt guilty for behaving as if nothing was wrong on her end, but was it fair to potentially put him in a worse state of mind than his stint in jail had? Even before this little adventure of the Falcon boys’, Therese had been worried about being a distraction. She had no desire to hurt him with the news in the way it had her, but was that her choice to make?

Finding herself distracted once again with her runaway train of thoughts, Therese shook her head slightly, a chill shooting up her back causing her to shiver. She looked up at Michal and ran a quick finger along his jawline.

“And how have you been keeping your admirers at bay?” she lightly teased, though she couldn’t stop the twist in her chest at the thought.

He turned slightly, not startled, but surprised by Therese’s nonchalant question. Could it even be nonchalant considered with potentially how loaded it was? Not that he thought... Michal did not think Therese was the jealous type, or thought that she meant it as a way for her to check up on him, but how many times, or different forms, had he heard that from an ex? He pushed his back up against booth to shift in his seat.

“Quidditch witches don’t have time for that,” he shrugged, and thinking it to be true. He couldn’t think of many witches in the field that as openly and unreservedly chased their desires as their male counterparts did. Save for Anya, of course, but she was a Falcon, and therefore unashamedly did as she pleased, as she should. Michal shrugged again, not sure what exactly to say. He didn’t think it prudent to assume she meant... fans, because that was a whole another level of a deep lack of realism.

And smugness. Who didn’t love reading fan mail?

“You must think I have witches knocking down my door with my newly affirmed bad boy image...” Michal let out a faux sigh, his amused and sarcastic tone evident. “But, alas...” he trailed off, sinking more in his seat to sit relaxed. “It is not the case,” he finished, blinking slowly as he briefly scanned the crowd before turning his attention back to Therese.

“Why, you worried?” He couldn’t help but let an amused grin form on his face.

She knew from first hand testimonials the trials and tribulations of professional quidditch witches. Each individual was different, but there seemed to be the underlying tone of needing to maintain that fierce exterior most of them portrayed to the public, whether they realized it or not. Therese understood it. In a sport that was dominated by men it was easy for the media to blame the slightest show of weakness on a woman’s femininity. How many careers were supposedly ‘over’ when a female player had a baby, and then was constantly compared to her flying styles from before she had become a mother? It was a strange world and created a strange set of people that Therese got to see the underlying effects of. She enjoyed these strange people, because she got to see what made them tick and that most were quite normal underneath it all.

Therese was also enjoying her time learning about Michal outside of the confines of her office. She had not had many relationships in her life, but that slight sense of mystery always piqued her curiosity and made her want to get closer to learn more. She couldn’t predict how he would respond to certain things, like her silly question or her more devastating news, but Therese enjoyed that she couldn’t read his mind.

She twisted to face him more, pulling her leg underneath her to give her some height, her lips pursed in thought. Truthfully, she supposed there would always been that voice of concern that was attached to dating a celebrity, and with the complete sham her last real relationship had been, Therese found herself quite surprised that she felt confident in her answer. She batted her eyes and gave a slight shake of her head.

“Moi, worry? No.”

His amused smile turned to one of ease, and Michal lifted his hand dangling over her shoulder to brush his knuckles against Therese’s cheek. “Good,” he let out, feeling comforted by her words. It was relieving to know that he did not have to worry about unnecessary issues coming up because of things that were out of his control. Their control. His control.

Feeling relaxed (even though he shouldn’t be, right? Because when you were embroiled in an international drunken scandal, wasn’t it part of the suffering to always be anxious about what will happen?), Michal let out a content breath. This was good. They were good. Therese did not seem upset about his recent discretions, something he could not even deny from himself had concerned him, and she did not seemed bothered by what was the undeniable alternative universe that was Euro Cup.

“But if I did have any,” he began, slowly moving to press his face into her neck. Michal took the moment to take in her smell, before beginning to trail his lips up her neck lightly. “I’d just post a big picture of you on my door so they’d get the right idea.” His lips formed into an entertained smile, and Michal let out a laugh into her skin.

Her hands moved to the front of his shirt and Therese had no qualms about draping her legs over his knees to slowly move into a better, closer position. Yes, she most certainly needed a night like this. Drinks, kisses, and a night in with no other worries. It was good to feel normal, and she was going to relish it for as long as she could. The tournament created a strange vacuum and Therese settled on the idea that dealing with any ‘real life’ issues could wait until Michal was back in the United Kingdom and under less heightened circumstances. There was nowhere to be for a while, and Therese planned on doing as little as possible.

Don’t get her wrong, that included Michal, of course.

“One with a glare of severe judgment,” she laughed, twisting to kiss him fully. She had missed him, a few weeks seeming like much longer than they really were. Maybe the rest of the month would move by faster, or maybe she could use a bit more of her holiday time.

Those thoughts were for later. For now, there was a loud ruckus going on behind them by the bar, and Therese trailed her hands up to wrap her arms around Michal’s neck, not flinching at the sound of crashing glasses and plates. She was glad that the Italians were experts at creating distractions and attracting the attention of the rest of the lounge’s patrons as she did not particularly wish to be disturbed at the moment.