Trev Scabior sold his scruples for a galleon. (opportunist) wrote in wished,
Stepping outside, Trevor kept out of the way of the meagre foot traffic and rested in the shadow of the shop's entrance. Inside he'd left two of his newer crew members, stuck with the boring shop duty all the rookies got, arguing over the Falcons game. He liked Quidditch as much as the next man but he had been moments away from knocking their heads together and hexing them into silence. And while it was an entertaining idea he didn't feel like dealing with the whiny aftermath.
Intending to move on toward the Troll's Head, Trevor pulled a cigarette from behind his ear and lit up. The weather was fairly decent, it wasn't raining and not too cold yet, it was the most he could ask for after coming back from Fiji. It was certainly better than the cold he knew was only around the corner. Trevor turned and glanced into the alley as he inhaled and did a double take when he recognised the head of blond hair meandering past. "Oi," he called out, stepping off the stoop toward Verity. "Are you fuckin' mad?"