Emma's eyes narrowed at Marcus. "As Adrian is on family leave," she said, crossing her arms. "I am not allowed to force him to do anything. He is currently exempt from all Falcon related obligations. If you have a problem with that, perhaps you should discuss it with management and the lawyers. However, I would avoid them if I were you as they are starting to get a little sick of your shite."
Emma didn't swear. So, it wasn't a surprise when Clint's eyes widened and Katie tried to hide a smile. It just seemed so wrong, that word coming from her.
Glancing at Bell, she looked back at the Captain of the Falcons. "As for Bell," she shook her head. "I don't really have any say over what she does as she's not apart of this team. You two, however, are turning into a weekly event and it's exhausting. Perhaps you should attempt to think about what your actions are doing to your team and the people who are working for you twenty-four hours a day. And no. None of this has anything to do with my sex life and if you bring that up again, I will go out of my way to make your life a living hell and as of right now, I have carte blanche to do whatever I think is necessary to make sure you stop making this team look ridiculous.
Katie glanced at everyone in the kitchen, feeling slightly light-headed as her arm wasn't stopping. "Um," she said, warily. "I really could just make a statement or something and I'm sure I can get this blown over... The press usually loves me."
Emma's head turned to Bell. "Unfortunately, Miss Bell, you are still on rather thin ice with the general public because of your association with Mr. Flint. Right now, they pretty much consider you the anti-christ and hate you for crushing Oliver Wood's delicate heart. So. Let's attempt to look generous this holiday season and refrain from bar fights, prostitutes and anything else you regularly engage in."
Clint sighed, not really in the mood to attend another charity event but maybe they could come up with something that wasn't a bloody black tie event. "Is there anything we can do that isn't a bloody gala?" he asked, already having to attend one this season was enough.
"Actually, yes," she said, raising a brow. "There is. There's a Quidditch camp for under privileged kids going on next week. Perhaps I can get you scheduled in for a few hours since team practices end this week."
Clint nodded. He'd much rather do that then flit around a ballroom and dance with people he didn't give a shite about. Kids were more fun than half the idiots that bought up the gala tickets.