Tracey sobered almost instantly when she realised she wasn't alone. The silly blush and laugh were gone with company just as quickly as they'd arrived in her solitude. Drawing in a deep breath, she nodded curtly at Montague, her greeting cut short by the scent of firewhiskey on him. With a daring cock to her brow, she questioned him. "Did I honestly just stay open late so that you could entertain yourself at the pub all night before showing up here?" Tracey didn't need his answer, her glare told him that.
"Very well," she stated, reaching out for the broom and ignoring him for the most part. Taking her time, she secured the broom into a pair of grips to hold it steady as she did her initial assessment, warily watching Montague from the corner of her eyes. "You should have brought this to me sooner. I don't like to be rushed, especially considering the match tomorrow." There should have never been any doubt that Tracey loved Quidditch. She wasn't half bad considering she wasn't allowed to play on the House team at school. Not that she'd give up what she was doing to even try.
"How's the balance? Looks like there's a bit of a elliptical wobble. Your weight probably compensates for it though." Tracey pulled the broom of the stationary grips and brought it down enough she could mount it and hover a few inches off the floor.