Blaise was well aware that flying and Quidditch were not the same. Not that he could have made the distinction right now if he'd wanted to. "Chambers said we fly" he pieced together a memory from the other day to add it into the conversation. "He also made journals."
Reaching into his pocket he took his journal out and placed it on the table. "Good or bad?" he looked over at Marcus as if waiting for an answer before he continued. "Too much talk, wrong filters." In his brain the words made perfect sense. Was this something he wanted to talk about? Swigging down the rest of his drink he looked around and waited for the next one to arrive having forgotten that he'd reached his predetermined limit.