"Yeah, I do, but that's not the point," he said with a shrug, after letting Lisa passed and leaning back against the door again, tapping his fingers on his arm in agitation. "Point is, I want to get pissed. You ready? Or do you need primping time?" he asked with a raise of an eyebrow, though they both knew it was Terence who invested the most amount of time into his looks.
"I'll even pay, if you like, I just have to get pissed," he said, face hard. His eyes rested on the quidditch awards resting on Marcus' shelf, thoughts elsewhere. He'd taken his rookie of the year down the day he got back from the hospital after the accident. He didn't think about it too much anymore, but in times like this it was easy to slip back into the old dark thoughts. He knew it was ridiculous and presumptive to think it, but he still sometimes thinks about how people would know his name, how they would cheer, and how he, in blissful ignorance, would have never known what it was like to not be able to fly faster than thought.
Shaking off his thoughts, he pushed off the door and put his hand on the knob. "Ready?"