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Roger James Timothy Davies (rogeringdavies) wrote in finnigans_rpg,

Roger smiled and shook his head slightly, torn between amusement and consternation at his apparent lack of ability to make his interest clear. "I do, it's true," he said, smiling wider. "But it's fine because I like listening to you talk about Quidditch, and things in general really."

He grinned as Marcus turned his head to hide his blush, clearly flustered at the direct line of questioning. Internally, Roger was dancing a jig because he had caused Marcus to be flustered, which meant that, well Roger didn't quite know what it meant other than the fact that perhaps Marcus wasn't as immune to Roger's charms as he pretended. "Spoilsport," he said with a definite smirk, before lifting his hands in truce. "Even I was a bit taken aback by Fitzpatrick's advice, not the most professional thing to say. It's not like we're all as close as you and me."

He looked at the other man up and down incredulously. He knew that Marcus worried that he was getting too old, but he was such a superb and gifted player, that the coach would have to have her head examined if she let Marcus go. Not to mention the fact that there'd be open mutiny amongst the rest of the team. "Oh please," he said, his dark eyes intent. "You've got the type of physique that I know for a fact people have sold their souls for, and do twice the training of all the young lads and lasses in the reserves. Plus you've received more caps for England than anyone else in the team - including me!" He sat back, momentarily embarrassed by the vehemence in his voice. "Sorry," he smiled self-deprecatingly. "I just... You're a great player, yeah?"

"Yeah I guess so," he said, dismissing his own high goal scoring rate and prowess on the broom with a wave of a hand. "Horrible piece of luck the thing with Moran's arms," he said with a shake of his head. "Who keeps bloody Venomous Tentacula in their garden, and more importantly, who falls asleep on it?"