who ? terence higgs and zacharias smith when ? afternoon, this week where ? the snitch what ? attempting to have a drink rating ? pg status ? complete
It was one of those days where Terence wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. Usually he’d be at a training practice at this time but Falcons’ had a different schedule, which Terence still hadn’t adapted with seeing Elle, thus he had free time to do, well, whatever it was he wanted to do. So Terence had figured he could go to the Snitch to see Lincoln. Despite the fact that Terence and Brianna had divorced, Terence’s relationship with her siblings hadn’t changed, he was still close to all of them and in case of Lincoln considered him his best friend. Which of course was rather awkward when it turned out Lincoln wasn’t at the Snitch.
“I’ll have a pint of lager,” Terence said to the barmaid wondering just why he was going to drink on his own. Maybe what they said about the Falcons and alcoholism was correct and as soon as you joined the team your liver gave up on life. Either way, Terence didn’t exactly have better plans for the day, so he figured he might as well have a drink, maybe some food, too, at a later time. The day was only half way through and Terence really had no plans for it, so drinking seemed like an idea. He thanked the barmaid – whose name he really couldn’t remember, which was embarrassing – and picked up his beer.
It was that ridiculously bad luck that people sometimes got that made Terence spill half of his drink on the person behind him. You know, that luck where you’ll trip over the only rock on an empty road? Or that luck where you will spill your drink on the only other person in the pub? Not that this was the case, there were at least three other people in the Snitch, so really, Terence could’ve taken his pick. “Fuck,” he swore and it was quite uncertain whether he was sorrier about spilling his drink over someone or, well, just spilling his drink. “I’m so sorry,” Terence apologised, quite unsure what the appropriate response was. He could’ve offered a drying spell but that would leave their clothes still smelling like beer. A cleaning spell, maybe? Terence really was no good at those.
“Well,” he paused. “This is awkward.” Which it was. So response? Appropriate.