Post by Protégé on Jun 26, 2006 16:22:40 GMT -5
He had shown up late. He had almost missed the game. He hadn't hit a bludger at another opponent, defended the goal-hoops, and never even touched the quaffle. Anyone hearing that summary would regard him as a failure as a captain, an utter disgrace. But he had caught the snitch. That little golden ball, the smallest, the least dangerous, the least seen even. But it was the most important. Catching it would practically guarantee victory. And he had caught it. He had won the match for Slytherin, despite the fact only he and the assistant Captain had showed up. He'd have to reward her for her hard work, being a keeper and a chaser. Ah well, this was time to celebrate and party for the victory. And where better than at Joker's Bar?
He was still in his green quidditch robes, walking down to the bar. His broom was still in his hand. Had he known whether or not it would get him in trouble to fly with it to the bar, he would have flown. Bah well, walking was perfectly fine. The weather was great, the sun shining, the breeze nice and cool, and no tension or pressure at all. The weather seemed to be rejoicing in this victory even. His cloak was flapping slightly in the breeze, not blown up highly in the breeze looking ridiculous, but just going up slightly, giving the feeling he had wings and he could just fly away right now. Not the way he usually looked, but hey, it was a special occasion.
Those who did know him would say he looked different. There was a slight upturn in the mouth, slightly more than the shadow of a smile, but not what would be regarded as a full smile. His dirty blonde hair was blown back, out of his eyes for once but fanning out all over the place. His eyes, now able to be clearly seen, had a glimmer in them, a light which had never been in the deep dark green of the eyes. There was a spring in his step, making him travel quicker than he normally did, despite the fact he normally walked fast. His free arm was holding onto his cloak, making sure that his mark as a Slytherin was clearly visible. He wanted everyone to know how proud he was that he was a Slytherin at this moment. Sure, it wasn't the most respected house, Gryffindor probably was. But for those who loved quidditch, it had to be respected.
Beneath his robes he had his casual clothes, making him happier that he was in something he loved to wear so much and not forced to have a complete uniform aside from his robes. His gray t-shirt may not have been silver, but he still liked how it and the green robes made him look more like a Slytherin. His blue jeans were normal, despite a little grass and dirt stains from his landing. His boots had more noticable grass and dirt on the toe of them, for in his happiness at winning, he had forgotten to brake when he was above the ground and instead tried to dig himself in with his toes while trying to stop the broom. There were no bludger wounds, for he had not even been targeted, and not much sign he had played quidditch. Except for the broom, the green robes, and the air of happiness around him.
Reaching Joker's Bar, he placed one hand on the building, calming himself down a bit and allowing other people to catch up. While he did, a small fact came into his mind. The legal drinking age in Spain is 16. With that thought, he proudly walked through the door, his manner and look drawing a few looks from other patrons. Ignoring this, he walked happily over to the bar and began to dig in his pocket for money. Speaking aloud, he said to the bartender, "Get me a shot of whiskey, Jack Daniels Tennessee Whiskey if you've got it. And be ready for more business, because I have a feeling I ain't the only one coming here to celebrate!"
He was still in his green quidditch robes, walking down to the bar. His broom was still in his hand. Had he known whether or not it would get him in trouble to fly with it to the bar, he would have flown. Bah well, walking was perfectly fine. The weather was great, the sun shining, the breeze nice and cool, and no tension or pressure at all. The weather seemed to be rejoicing in this victory even. His cloak was flapping slightly in the breeze, not blown up highly in the breeze looking ridiculous, but just going up slightly, giving the feeling he had wings and he could just fly away right now. Not the way he usually looked, but hey, it was a special occasion.
Those who did know him would say he looked different. There was a slight upturn in the mouth, slightly more than the shadow of a smile, but not what would be regarded as a full smile. His dirty blonde hair was blown back, out of his eyes for once but fanning out all over the place. His eyes, now able to be clearly seen, had a glimmer in them, a light which had never been in the deep dark green of the eyes. There was a spring in his step, making him travel quicker than he normally did, despite the fact he normally walked fast. His free arm was holding onto his cloak, making sure that his mark as a Slytherin was clearly visible. He wanted everyone to know how proud he was that he was a Slytherin at this moment. Sure, it wasn't the most respected house, Gryffindor probably was. But for those who loved quidditch, it had to be respected.
Beneath his robes he had his casual clothes, making him happier that he was in something he loved to wear so much and not forced to have a complete uniform aside from his robes. His gray t-shirt may not have been silver, but he still liked how it and the green robes made him look more like a Slytherin. His blue jeans were normal, despite a little grass and dirt stains from his landing. His boots had more noticable grass and dirt on the toe of them, for in his happiness at winning, he had forgotten to brake when he was above the ground and instead tried to dig himself in with his toes while trying to stop the broom. There were no bludger wounds, for he had not even been targeted, and not much sign he had played quidditch. Except for the broom, the green robes, and the air of happiness around him.
Reaching Joker's Bar, he placed one hand on the building, calming himself down a bit and allowing other people to catch up. While he did, a small fact came into his mind. The legal drinking age in Spain is 16. With that thought, he proudly walked through the door, his manner and look drawing a few looks from other patrons. Ignoring this, he walked happily over to the bar and began to dig in his pocket for money. Speaking aloud, he said to the bartender, "Get me a shot of whiskey, Jack Daniels Tennessee Whiskey if you've got it. And be ready for more business, because I have a feeling I ain't the only one coming here to celebrate!"