Re: Bobby/Rowan
Bobby was only relatively stunned that nobody had actually gone around spiking the drinks. Kids would be kids, and that was a very kid-like thing to do. Not like he’d ever execute such a diabolical plan himself—if only due to sheer lethargy—but many were actually being well-behaved. He made little attempt to dress for the occasion. Whatever the occasion may be that was worth spending more than five minutes on his wardrobe. He wore straight jeans, vans, a v-neck and a hoodie that pulled over his blonde head of hair in hopes to cool himself a bit. Warming spells would have been convenient, but Bobby liked the idea of fresh air and cold, bitter wind that convenience.
He was perfectly content sitting on his own for a while, taking few swigs rather than imbibing avariciously but dear God, he could really use some cheap bourbon or something. In the midst of his thoughts, his back was being shoved forward and a bit of the beer had mottled his pants. However, what irked him most was the ungodly sound that penetrated his ears—the squeal that made him wince and press that ear into his shoulder unconsciously. “Um, no,” he said and dragged his sleeves over his knuckles, using the back of his wrist to dab at the small amount of his drink that spilled on his thigh. It wasn’t too bad. Hovering his hand over the pants, he merely mouthed a word and his pants were dry. “No harm done.” Finally, he looked up and then arched an eyebrow. “Oh you again. Why is it I end up wet whenever you come around?”