Marcus Flint (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} marcedflint) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} finnigans_rpg, |
Nodding with a smile at her answer, he commented, "I haven't been out of London in what feels like ages, except for games." He loved his career, and wouldn't change it for the world, but professional Quidditch didn't leave much time for things like traveling for pleasure. As they walked, he was aware of the people looking at them - a lifetime of being reminded of the 'importance of reputation' made it impossible for him not to be, but he didn't bother acknowledging any of the individuals who stared as they passed.
He'd known Pansy long enough to understand that that sly smile was something to be wary of, and his instinct was proved correct at her comment. Letting out a sigh, he said, "I'm not sure what there really is to tell. I pissed off the other team's Beater, he threw his bat at me, Roger got in the way and instead of me getting a dislocated shoulder, he got a direct hit to the torso and fell to the ground."