Vince snapped his fingers in defeat, threw his arm down as if dismissing the winning football for a touchdown spike at the end of an excruciating game, and growled like a wolf. Was he the only one that was ever going to get Hufflepuff? Fuck!
"Probably. There's a lot of assholes strutting around this lot, I'm sure. I would've preferred Slytherin to fucking Hufflepuff any day." Vince then took on a scarily accurate English accent, though he stole so in a higher pitch to of course, mock the pre-pubescence of the Harry Potter cast. "C'mon then, 'Arry. Bloody 'ell! Let's 'ave ourselves sum loonch! My stomach is all a'growl!" Both brows rose, pronounced as an unspoken thank you, to Mr. Sorting hat holder. Vince briefly imagined what it would be like to have that job, in much the same manner that there's a brief, comically boring cut-away in 'Family Guy' every now and then. It consisted of him... standing there. All day.
Unless Billy wanted to stick around, he'd eventually head for the elevator, and of course, back outside.
"Don't be surprised if I occasionally call you Potter now. I love inside jokes. It makes people feel left out, thus making me feel special."