June 26th, 1890 — Hogsmeade Memorial Ballroom

Halia had been to only one fancy party before tonight, and that was the party that was held on their behalf only a month ago in Honolulu. The British apparently loved their parties, as was apparent from the flashy dresses and shallow conversations happening at every turn. She felt obligated to talk to someone, but there was no one there—apart from her teammates, maybe—who didn't look like they wouldn't turn their nose up at her.

She found refuge at the refreshments table, where one of her teammates was hovering near a plate of moldy food. (The British were weird about their food. They were weird about everything.)

"I prefer the food to the people," she said in her native tongue, not nearly quiet enough to go unheard by the nearby Brits but already convinced that they wouldn't bother to try and understand her. "But I'm not sure about that." She motioned towards the plate of cheese.

---

  

Makoa had little doubts when trying out for the team that he would be chosen to represent Hawaii. Even now, standing amongst the strange British people (what was with them and their sensitivities to seeing skin?) he had the utmost faith in the team's abilities. Or perhaps just the men's abilities. The single female chaser was ... odd, and their seeker well...she was a bit younger and inexperienced than he hoped the seeker would've been.

Oh well.

He stood awkwardly towards the edge of the room, not caring in the least for this party or the food. Where was the fruit? Or the pork? "I'd prefer to just get the game going." He replied with a look of suspicion towards the weird white stuff on the plate. "Someone said it's made with cow. I can't think of what they do to the creature."

  

Upon closer inspection, Halia recognized it as something she'd been given during her first meal at the hotel.

"It's cheese. I think. They like it smelly here," she said, her nose scrunching. She'd noticed that most of the fancy foods smelled or looked plain awful; she missed all the fruits and fish from back home. "It would be so easy for them to poison us here. I don't know what anything's supposed to taste like," she lamented, not daring to touch it. She opted for a biscuit instead, which she had to admit was tasty compared to the other dishes she'd tried.

---

  

"Probably best if we don't." There was no telling what ingesting an unknown substance would do to them, and with the game beginning tomorrow Makoa wasn't willing to take any chances. "I don't trust them."

He gestured towards a table on the far side of the room. From the looks of it there was some fruit to be had. "I think there's some of our imports over there."

  

Halia let out a quiet laugh. There was a sizable group of Brits hovering by the other table, each with a different fruit in their hand. "If there's any left by the time we get over there. Apparently the British find enjoyment in everything 'exotic'," she explained with pursed lips. "Have you met any of them yet?" She glanced over to the small group of British national team players who were standing together on the other side of the room.

---

  

"Exotic." He scoffed. As though fruit was something not found all over. Were the Brits so unfamiliar with their land as to not understanding what basic produce was? "A few, none I'd bother to introduce you to. They're not the kindest bunch."

  

"I have no need to meet them," she said coldly. What would they have to offer her anyways? Friendship? She didn't want a reason to view any of them in a sympathetic light. "But I'd love for them to stop pretending our fruit is poisonous. I heard the ladies talking about 'the risks'—whatever that means."

---

  

"The risks?!" He repeated incredulously. It was fruit for Merlin's sake! Not some sort of goopy monstrosity like what was on the platter besides them. "Have they considered the risks of this ... this cheese garbage?!"

  

Halia nodded solemnly and scrunched her nose towards the smelly substance. "I heard they like it with mold. They say it makes it more flavorful. I'd rather die." And she was serious about it!

---

  

With mold...? What sort of insanity were these foreign strangers partaking in? "Mold..." Makoa scoffed, dropping his plate down on the table beside them. An appetite was impossible upon realization the Brits were trying to poison them. "What sort of idiot eats mold?"

  

Halia had to swallow her laughter. "The British sort," she snickered, before pushing the plate over in favor of the refreshments behind it. At leas the British couldn't mess up a drink... right?

Wrong.

Halia made a face as she swallowed the wine. It was bitter and dry and there was nothing good about it. "I've decided I'm not hungry," she muttered, putting down the glass. She looked up at Makoa and then towards the British players.

"At least we know they'll be malnourished during the game."

---

  

"One can hope." He replied gruffly. Hopefully they would be poisoned by the mold and in need of a healer. That was one way to play with subpar team members, at least. "Maybe we should find the rest of our team and warn them."