After an eyeroll to the quidditch man's logic Megan watched the drunken rage boil in the younger man's face. She'd seen it a number of times with her brothers. She instinctively chose to move between Greg and the older man.
"You do know that there's more to the sport than feelings right?" She asked rhetorically as she positioned herself between the chaps. "Even if there is political tension around Flint, that's not what they're paid for. If they seriously can't forget about it on the field - they're not doing their job. So, suck on that one, for a second."
Megan quickly shifted gears and extended her hand to the anger tinged bloke. "Hi, they're idiots. Can I buy you a drink?"