WHO: Adrian and Millicent WHERE: Their flat -- I'm assuming it's in London? *scratches head* WHEN: Early evening. We'll say it's backdated to yesterday, since that's when she responded. WHAT: ... Hardcore cuddling. Except not. RATING: With Adrian and Millicent, it's already a given PG-13 for language. STATUS: Closed/Incomplete
While waiting up for Millicent, Adrian had taken up the empty couch to thumb through his newest Quidditch catalog, and with Helter Skelter settled comfortably between the crook of his neck and shoulder. His mind had been in shambles lately, and while the ordering catalog wasn't the most effective of distractions, it would serve as a decent substitute until Millicent was home.
He focused in on the pages, reading the description of a new broom polishing product -- something he'd need relatively soon, he imagined. He'd made plans to meet up with his brother-in-law later in the week so that he might could borrow his older Nimbus 2000 model, and while the broom was still in considerably good condition, he could imagine that the finish of the handle was most likely a little worn and weathered. The polish wouldn't restore its shine completely, but until he could afford another broom model (he certainly wasn't up for taking anymore pity gifts from Daphne), he could at least put in the effort to make the temporary replacement look nice.
The kitten lifted and turned his head at the sound of someone entering the flat, and Adrian shrugged him off his shoulder, setting the magazine aside before throwing his legs over the side of the couch and standing up. Stretching out his arms above his head, he shuffled on into the kitchen, standing directly behind Millicent as he peered over her shoulder. "Hi, bitch," he said tiredly, his chin propped on her shoulder. Normally, anyone else would've taken offense to that, but their greetings of "bitch" and "fuckhead" were a casual given for the two. "So you did stop--? What'd you get?"
He still wasn't too hungry, but he wouldn't reject it if she offered.