Gerard eyed the floating coffee particles wistfully a moment. Wasted, all wasted. But he couldn't afford to zone out now, he had to skillfully and subtly deflect Haley's attention. Give her nothing. Frivolous banalities. He could do this.
"Oh, no, I don't play. Not Quidditch." At school he hadn't been inclined, and as a vaguely coordinated adult that could ride a broom without falling off, he didn't have time. His flying activities usually involved, oh, right, endless patrolling to make sure no other students got menaced by random plantlife and micromantula infestations. Not something he really wanted to bring up. And his favorite international team, right. Wow. Fuck.
"The Tadfoles, you know, they're really... great," Gerard said airly. "They've got great, uh, form on the pitch, but I favor the--" fuck, Maja had mentioned them once, what were they -- "...the Lapland Lamias, actually." Well, it was sort of true. In that Gerard thought that was an awesome team name, but now that he thought about it it might actually be Maja's school team, not a professional one, and well. Bollocks. Gerard could barely keep his eyes open, let alone think of a new, safe conversational segue that didn't involve actually knowing anything about international Quidditch.
"So, uh, how's your life? It's been a while, right? Any, uh," Gerard panicked. He had nothing. All he could think was that that his head hurt and his ass still had a giant bruise on it, what did his wolf self even do, run around backing into giant rocks all night? And the coffee still wasn't ready, and Haley was watching his every move with big, alert, interested eyes, and Gerard had absolutely nothing. "...any juicy Ministry gossip?" he finished weakly. Oh, that was just pathetic.