Helga always thought quidditch players were supposed to be charming womanizers, and while Mr. Tilcott did have a certain charm to him, it certainly wasn't in that way. She glanced back at her friends, who seemed to be too busy messing with the accessories and fabrics to realize that she'd wandered off from the group. Well, if she couldn't have the pretty dresses, at least she had this gentleman's attention to herself!

She had to clamp her lips together in a tight smile to avoid bursting out in a good-natured laugh at his fumbling. He was certainly sweet — that was for sure — but he certainly didn't have a grasp of her wealth or "importance". That being said, he didn't really seem to have a grasp of what the House of Lytton was for, either.

"Why on Earth would you need fabric for your broom?" she teased. "I don't suppose you're trying to start a new trend. Soon Kenmare will decide its brooms need to match its country's kilts! Plaid, ew," she giggled.

His real purpose for being there didn't take long to come out at that point. He was being followed, which seemed both creepy and completely normal at the same time. Weren't quidditch players used to being chased around? Isn't the fame why they went into the sport in the first place? It definitely didn't bring much income.

"Well I'm sorry to say that in your attempt to escape a silly girl, you've only managed to find yourself in the company of a different silly girl," she said, referring to herself.