InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Dustin loves Piper"

Greg Goyle (goyle_g) wrote in finnigans_rpg,
@ 2015-04-20 13:40:00

Entry tags:

character: gregory goyle, character: tristan travers

Quidditch on a sunny Saturday
Who: Greg and Tristan
What: Quidditch, conversation
Where: Finnigan's, the Den
When: Saturday April 18th, Afternoon [Backdated]
Rating: SFW for now

In the months he'd lived in Monument Alley, Greg had learned to arrive early for Quidditch if he wanted to find a seat. So he set his home wireless to the right channel as he slowly caught up on the journal entries he'd missed through the week, a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans at his elbow. He didn't comment much, and he refused on principal to read anything from Granger, Potter or the stupid Weasleys, but he looked out for anything his friends had written and tried to commit important details to memory. When the pre-match coverage began, he gathered up his things and turned the wireless off before heading to Finnigan's.

He could have listened to the match at home. In some ways, it would have been easier - he could have set the wireless volume to the exact level he needed to be comfortable - but he'd found that if he tried to listen to it by himself, his attention wandered and at the end of a match he was left with the final score, but no idea who'd scored the goals or how Marcus had played. Listening at Finnigan's meant that at least he had the crowd around him to act as notification of important plays or goals.

Afternoon matches seemed to draw more of a crowd, and with as close to the end of the season as they were, he was lucky his preferred table was still free. Greg sprawled out on the seat, not looking like he'd welcome company much, and set the half-finished packet of Every Flavour Beans down on the table.

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goyle_g
2015-04-24 11:13 am UTC (link)

It would probably surprise most people to learn that Greg was actually quite observant. He had no memory for facts, nor faces, but when he was out in the world he was conscious of what was going on around him. It came about from years of putting himself between Draco and the nearest aggressor, so that Draco could belittle and mock without fear of getting involved physically - Greg and Vince were there for that. So he noticed, when someone approached his table, and looked up well in advance of his first words.

He didn't say anything immediately, instead waiting for the other man to speak. When he did, Greg frowned - the name Tristan meant little to him. Though they'd commented back and forth on the journals, Greg didn't particularly notice the names of everyone whose thoughts he read - unless they were already known to him. Fortunately, his memory for sweets of any kind was much better, and as far as he knew he'd only had cream puffs once this year. "Oh, right," he said. "Yeah, I got your owl." It hadn't occurred to him to owl back - what would he have said? He'd simply taken the thanks as one of those shows of manners that he was never really interested in and had forgotten about it. "You helped me with the St Patrick's thing," he added, because the cream puffs had been a 'thank you' in themselves, and thanking someone for their thanks just seemed needlessly complicated.

"You want to sit?" he asked. He knew Tristan already had a table, had seen him get up from it even before he knew he was coming over, but it was further from the wireless - far enough that with the chatter in the room, Greg would have been concerned about being able to hear properly if he had sat there. He figured that Tristan might feel similarly, and there was room at Greg's table for one more.

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