Arcturus found it a touch morbid that Richard's brooms were named with death as the theme, but he was at the right age to be amused rather than concerned by that, and chuckled as he heard about Lady Morticia. He hadn't named his own broom; he'd never thought to, despite the fact that it had been his most prized possession. It still was, in fact, because while there was no denying that the newer brooms were faster, and with extremely advanced enchantments, Arcturus' Celeritas had been a gift from his father, to celebrate his earning a place on the Slytherin Quidditch team. Unlike many things at Hogwarts in his time, his status counted for nothing in Quidditch. It was all merit. The broom, then, was a reminder of what he thought of as his greatest accomplishment, and of his father, whom he was beginning to miss terribly.
The C-Class was certainly a better choice for the present, though, and he watched the demonstration of the sticking charm closely. It was far more sophisticated than he had imagined, and he nodded his approval. 'I'll try that out,' he said, 'once I'm used to it.'
Satisfied that he had enough knowledge to give the broom a fair try, he climbed onto it, adjusting his robe so that it was tucked and draped in the right places not to start flapping in his way. He took a moment to settle into the unfamiliar seat; the relative lack of cushioning made it less comfortable than his own, but he reminded himself that only a few decades ago, as he reckoned it, brooms couldn't be purchased with attached cushioning spells at all, leaving wizards to design their own. With varying degrees of success, according to his older relatives. He wasn't going to complain about this.
Leaning forward a little further than he usually would, he flew off, very slowly, again trying to get the measure of a completely new broom. A few careful, wide turns, a slow steep riseā¦ he seemed to be adjusting to this broom more quickly than he had the last - until a misjudged roll to the side which left him unexpectedly upside-down. He coloured a little in embarrassment, but righted himself, and then came about to fly beside Richard, close enough to be easily heard.
'I pushed that a little too far,' he admitted, with a good-natured, slightly self-deprecating smile. 'I shall try again in a moment, but what did you mean about 10Gs?' he questioned then. 'Is it a measure of height? I heard once that if you fly too high the air gets too thin and you might faint.' In Arcturus' day, such a mistake would almost certainly prove fatal, and so Arcturus and his friends had no intention of putting the rumour to the test. 'It's the only story I've heard of a wizard falling unconscious mid-flight. Excluding dramatic collisions and Bludgers to the head, naturally.' Both of which were particular hazards of Quidditch, not racing.