Trev Scabior sold his scruples for a galleon. (opportunist) wrote in wished,
Stomping down the stairs, Trev ran a hand over his hair, smoothing it down as he entered the living room. "Fuckin' 'ell, Gretch," he griped, watching her sway in the window for a moment. "Shite...Watkins, you didn't Apparate here drunk did you?" He walked over and leaned back against the wall next to the window, looking down at her. "You want to lose 'alf your limbs, do you?"