InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Please don't make me kill you."

Marcus Flint (marcedflint) wrote in finnigans_rpg,
@ 2014-08-28 23:03:00

Entry tags:

character: blaise zabini, character: marcus flint

Who: Marcus and Blaise
What: Friends drinking
Where: Finnegan's
When: August 28, 2004; early evening
Rating: TBD - Currently SFW, but may change.

Marcus still found it a little strange that he spent so much of his free time in a bar, given that his own drinking habits tended to be 'little to none'. But it was the atmosphere and the social environment that kept bringing him back, rather than the alcohol, and when Blaise had asked for company tonight, there had been absolutely no reason not to join.

So once practice had ended for the day, he'd headed out rather than just staying home. He walked from his apartment, rather than taking any magical means, because even now it was a wonder to have the freedom to do. The ability to put one foot in front of the other that took him to a destination of his choosing that wasn't another wall, and to breath in clean, fresh air while he did so was no longer a novelty, but still not something to be taken for granted. It may have taken him a little longer than it would have otherwise, but his enjoyment in the action far outweighed the few extra minutes it took to navigate his way through Diagon and Monument Alleys to get to the pub.

Stepping inside, Marcus moved out of the way of the door and stood still for a moment, giving his eyes a chance to adjust to the difference in the lighting before looking around for the familiar face of his friend. Not seeing the other man anywhere, he made his away further into the room, claiming a table for four along one of the walls. He sat down to wait for Blaise and whomever else might be joining them, consciously choosing a seat with his back to the wall so that he was less likely to be sneaked up on, just one of the quirks he hadn't quite been able to rid himself of since the war.

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dark_blaise
2014-09-16 02:14 am UTC (link)

By this time Blaise didn't care where he was. A table at Finnigan's, a booth at the Hog's Head, some random bird's flat, or his own bed, any of them wold work. "Not my type," he reminded Marcus as he stood or rather stumbled his way out of his seat.

At least when he got wherever he was going for the night he would definitely sleep well. Better than he would have had his brain been functioning properly so as to keep him wondering all night long.

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	marcedflint 2014-09-20 01:01 am UTC (link)
	"I know," Marcus said, quiet and reassuring. He led Blaise out of the pub and made sure that the man was settled in his own flat before heading home himself. While the conversation had been enlightening, he'd had to tuck the information away for later and see what, if anything, Blaise had to say about later, in the sober light of day. (Reply to this) (Parent)

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