flintsnark (flintsnark) wrote in the_quaffle, @ 2013-11-22 23:39:00 |
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Entry tags: | char: katie bell, char: marcus flint |
Who | Katie Bell & Marcus Flint
Where | Flint's Office, English Facilities
When | End of the Week
What | Having one of those weird moments
Rating It's Marcus, so language.
Status | Complete. Partial Log.
Katie stood under the hot water of the shower, letting it warm her body. It'd been cold and wet on the Pitch today and she was exhausted. Both mentally and physically. Training had started for Nationals and she was already feeling a little bit ragged. She'd had a visit from Adrian the other day in which her entire world had turned upside down. Given the circumstances, she was surprised that he'd been so... polite about it. Of course, finding out you father had an affair and had a love child with an Australian witch was probably a shock for him. Katie, on the other hand, was still trying to digest the news. She'd sent an owl to her mother, trying to understand and figure this out. So far, nothing had been sent back. Adrian was her brother. She had a sister. It was so bloody strange. It made very little sense to her.
Stepping out, she grabbed her towel, unsurprised when one of the reserves said Marcus wanted to see her in his office. Katie sighed, wondering how she could get out of that. Pausing for a moment, considering just leaving, Katie shook her head and headed to her locker, quickly changing into a pair of jeans and an England hoodie. A quick charm and her hair was dry and pulled into a ponytail. Grabbing her kit, she headed out of the locker room and made her way down the hall to Marcus's office.
Pushing the door open, she watched him for a moment. It was strange to see him behind a desk. It was so... professional. "Hey," she said, stepping inside, closing the door behind her. "Look, I know. I've been off all week and I'm sorry. I'll work harder and I'll get my head straightened out." She wasn't surprised that he'd call her in. She hadn't argue with him once. Had accepted all of his orders without complaint but had played without any passion or drive.
Maybe her acknowledgement of her less than stellar performance would sway his need to yell at her. She wasn't sure she could handle screaming at the moment. The last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of Marcus Flint.
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Frustrated was likely the most polite word to use in order to describe how he was currently feeling. Luckily, Marcus had never been polite and had no problem admitting that he was bloody fucking irritated as fuck. This National team was a bloody nightmare. Not only was he not flying with Clint or Adrian, but Bell was so far off her game she resembled a bloody first year Hufflepuff on a broom, and - to make it a highlight in his life - the third corner of this triangle was some moron from the Magpies who kept informing him that his coaching style was not how they did things in Montrose. Needless to say, Marcus was one comment away from kicking his arse all the way back to fucking Montrose.
When Katie finally showed up, Marcus glowered at her. He just didn't fucking get it. She played fine during tryouts, so what had crawled up her arse. His thoughts hadn't bothered to consider that it might be the news Adrian had shared with them a few days prior. For him, it wasn't something that was all that surprising. Things like that happened all the time. Hell, he wouldn't be surprised if he had a bunch of bastard siblings kicking around. It was a bit shocking, he supposed, to find out it was someone you were familiar with but still not that big of a deal. In the end it wasn't such a big deal for her. She had her status boosted by association. Socially speaking, she wasn't exactly top of the dog pile. Ultimately, he didn't care. This was Quidditch not life. She was allowed to fail at life. She was not allowed to fail when it came to Quidditch.
"Off, is putting it lightly," he commented, studying her through narrow eyes. "It's embarrassing. What the bloody hell is wrong with you?"
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Katie wasn't surprised the glowered: she wasn't surprised by the question and it wasn't necessarily something she wanted to get into with him. She dropped her kit and flopped down into the seat across from him, returning his gaze. She knew she was playing like shit and she knew that he knew she was playing horribly. Crossing her legs, she let her head drop to her hands and shook her head. Taking a deep breath, she looked up and tried to find the words.
"It's nothing," she said, shaking her head. "Just an adjustment to the new coaching style and that idiotic Magpie who will not shit the fuck up about shitty Montrose." If Brooks didn't let it to, she was going to deck him and she wasn't going to be sorry in the least. Of course, that was only partially the truth and it didn't happen often that she let her personal life affect her game. It'd been a rough couple weeks from going to the most loved woman in Quidditch to the most hated and then the whole Oliver issue... She'd already heard he was showing off his cellar. Clearly that meant her feeling were nothing to him. And now her father wasn't her biological father. Her biological father was dead and she had two siblings.
"It's been a rough week..." She muttered, knowing there really wasn't any excuses she could make. "I'll get it straightened out." She raised a brow, wondering if he knew. Probably. "I swear, I'll get my shit together by Monday."
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This complacent attitude, while it might work well in the Captain/Assistant scenario, was rather irritating. He didn't like it. Hell, he didn't like her challenging his every bloody thought either, but this was just ... irritating. There wasn't another word for it and if there was it was currently escaping him. More importantly, it irritated him that she tossed out the worse excuses in the world and expected him to believe that was it. Resisting the sudden urge to shake her till her brain turned the right way, he leaned back in the chair, arms crossing to further prevent himself from reaching across the desk. "That would be useful," he responded, regarding her promise to be back in the game on Monday. It would have been useful to be in the game this past week, but at least they weren't yet neck deep in the Nationals. He might have actually have killed her had they been.
With her sitting directly in front of him, it gave him the opportunity to study her features. It still bloody fucking surprised him that none of them had actually put the similarities together. It was easiest to tell across the eyes. She had the same eyes as both Adrian and Tori. Then there was the height. Christ, she was practically a female Adrian, which happened to be the unsexiest thought to have ever cross his mind. Moving past that thought was going to take some work. It was still odd. He recognized the fact that she was related to Adrian, but didn't have the same ... respect, he supposed, for Katie as he did Tori. Tori was like a little sister to all of them, as was Lyssy. Bell was still Bell .... just from a different perspective.
Just thinking about it was giving him a headache. "So, Pucey, huh?" he muttered, the sound a little on the gruff side, "I suppose that makes you a little less Gryffindor."