"Oh, yeah, I eat," Gerard said, shrugging and snagging them a fresh pot of Kona without any of the Ravenclaws being the wiser. Bless the distraction of airborne sandwich fixings. "Just not normally at mealtimes, I guess. Clearly a mistake. What d'you reckon? I feel like Gryffindor's going to come out the worst, this round." Gerard's house was certainly doing a great job of dishing out havoc, but they were being pretty indiscriminate with their aim. Gerard had seen Schecter take a faceful of trifle from one overly zealous Gryffindor a few seconds ago -- heads were going to roll for sure.
"Taking classes sucks," Gerard said sympathetically, nudging the pot Nate's way. "I mean, the material is great, I'm just not so big on the grading system. And it must be weird, I mean, a lot of the professors were your classmates, right? I don't know that I could take a class from Mikey. Or Pete."
Chelsea and Byron, right. Names, Gerard was so terrible with names. But actually, now that he thought about it, Byron was sort of appropriate for Oblivious. The guy did have a fairly arrogant Don Juan air about him. Peaches was going to forever be Peaches in his head, though; he'd heard Byron coo it at her too many times during patrol. He'd thought the lovestruck teens would have eventually realized that the courtyard arch wasn't a good place for a secret assignation, but noooo, Gerard ran into them like clockwork every couple days. And it was either eye-scarring groping -- they were infants, for Christ's sake, Peaches needed to keep her hands out of Byron's pants -- or whispered screaming matches. It was sort of cute, in a disturbing way.