Roger waited until the first round of drinks had been chugged down, not particularly liking the way some of the men were leering at Fleur, even though that was entirely why he'd brought her. They might have delusions that they were going to be enjoying Fleur on a more personal level, but they were certainly mistaken. If he couldn't fuck Fleur, no one else on his team was going to. Ever.
"Right," he said, glancing at Fleur for a moment, waiting for her to remember she was supposed to be taking notes. "So, Billings. Here's my cards. I desperately need a Seeker. Anyone who's followed our last few games knows that, and I'm the first to admit it." There were a few smirks and nods around the table. "I know you're second string here, and, of course- we'll have to wait until after you've gone through January practices, see how you acclimate to the different flying conditions. But, pending everything goes well, I'd like to have you starting, say, mid February. March. I know you've got a year left on your contract, but we're willing to negotiate something fair for both teams."
Billings considered this for a moment, murmured something to his agent. Then he smirked at Fleur. "All the girls in England look like this one?" Another set of smirks and murmurs. "I know what you're playing at, Davies. Come on Sheila, tell me who else you're trying to lure out to Portree."
Roger frowned and glanced at Fleur, hoping she wouldn't be so offended at being called a Sheila that she'd forget to use her veela thing. Which he was really hoping she'd use. Soon.