Who: Miles Bletchley and Tracey Davis. What: Dinner. Where: Flyte (some restaurant). When: Thursday evening. Rating: Low.
Unsure why she had even agreed to such a thing, Tracey had been trying to think of legitimate reasons to cancel dinner with Miles all day. Unfortunately she hadn't actually managed any, and as soon as her mother caught wind of the idea, any kind of cancellation probably would have had dire consequences on her part. What was it with mothers and trying to force people into relationships? Tracey supposed at the very least she wasn't quite up to the point of being married off.
Dressing for the restaurant and not Miles, she sincerely hoped he wouldn't think otherwise. Purposely planning to arrive late, she glanced across at the old grandfather clock in the entryway. If it had been a date, Tracey would have insisted that he pick her up from the Manor. But this was not a date; it was dinner, and only because she wanted to see if he could really chew with his mouth closed. Quite a feat for a Quidditch player, in her opinion.
When enough time had passed for her to be slightly annoying but not outright rude in her delay, she headed to Flyte, a restaurant she had never been to and hadn't even heard of until Miles had suggested it as the place to go. The private floo entrance and exit had been the big selling point, and it was in this manner that she arrived; ten minutes after their arranged time.