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Greg Goyle (goyle_g) wrote in finnigans_rpg,

Greg shrugged. "I'm not really hungry." He had vague memories of being taken to the theatre (wizarding, of course) as a child and there being ice cream, but he didn't need to eat. A drink was a good idea, though, so he dutifully fetched Pansy's and bought one for himself. When Pansy paused to look around the theatre, Greg stood awkwardly at her side waiting for her to be done so she could lead the way to their box. Once they got there, Greg settled immediately into the chair. It wasn't as comfortable as his couch at home, but it was better than his mother's dining chairs had been.

He snorted slightly as he turned the programme over in his hands, the front featuring a stylised picture of a broad-shouldered man in a red cloak. "He looks like a Gryffindor," she complained, disdain evident in his voice. He perked up a little when Pansy mentioned his death - perhaps the goblins would get him after all. Even if they didn't, it sounded better than Greg had expected. He peered over the railing of their box at the crowd below them and the red velvet curtains over the stage. "It sounds okay." There was no need to pretend for Pansy's sake that he was more excited than he was - a thought which prompted him to make a further disgusted face. "I'm glad I don't have to be here with someone else."