Caradoc followed Emmeline into one of the rooms, trying not to cradle his left arm awkwardly but finding it difficult to do much else. He pondered the best way to word an answer to her question. What had happened, really, was that he'd allowed friends to encourage one lapse in judgment after another - not something he was especially proud of. Still. It was Emmeline, and this was what she did all day. He expected she'd heard a lot of strange, and stupid, things.
"Well," he began slowly, hoisting himself onto one of the small examination tables and stretching his arm out before him. "Fell off a broom is the shortest explanation. The longer version involves an impromptu reunion and some old idiot friends - who it seems are still idiots, incidentally - got me to come out for drinks and then managed to convince me to play some pick up Quidditch."
At least his head was beginning to clear. He'd done the least drinking out of the lot, it seemed. The buzz was starting to wear off, though Caradoc hoped there wouldn't be any lingering affects - an injured arm was enough punishment.