13th April, 1890 — QWC Roster Celebration, Puddlemere United Clubhouse
She had no love for Puddlemere - and no real love for parties - but she could put that aside, given the circumstances. The circumstances being last time she’d been here she had gotten herself on the first string of the national team, and also that she was relatively certain not everyone was as happy about this as her.
And Gus, though not one to usually take things seriously, was trying to be strategic here. The strategy was: find some allies on the national team. Plenty of players in the quidditch league were friendly, but she suspected more of them were comfortable being rivals than they would be to be teammates, and she’d be damned if any of them ruined this for Britain or for her. So: the plan was to make friends. Play nice. Join the boys’ club.
An easier task, probably, if the Harpies hadn’t just made it to the finals of the league, and plenty of their teams hadn’t.
So, whilst Gus tried to figure out how not to shove that in their faces - she was not so good a strategist off the pitch, if she were honest - she had been contenting herself by standing towards the corner, shovelling food into her face. And that was the last mouthful, she had just told herself (firmly), hurriedly brushing crumbs off her mouth as she turned towards the room at large and - collided face first with someone, crumbs and all. “Mmf, sorry -” Gus said, mouth still half-full of food.
open to someone who'd be at the QWC roster celebration, see above for event!
And Gus, though not one to usually take things seriously, was trying to be strategic here. The strategy was: find some allies on the national team. Plenty of players in the quidditch league were friendly, but she suspected more of them were comfortable being rivals than they would be to be teammates, and she’d be damned if any of them ruined this for Britain or for her. So: the plan was to make friends. Play nice. Join the boys’ club.
An easier task, probably, if the Harpies hadn’t just made it to the finals of the league, and plenty of their teams hadn’t.
So, whilst Gus tried to figure out how not to shove that in their faces - she was not so good a strategist off the pitch, if she were honest - she had been contenting herself by standing towards the corner, shovelling food into her face. And that was the last mouthful, she had just told herself (firmly), hurriedly brushing crumbs off her mouth as she turned towards the room at large and - collided face first with someone, crumbs and all. “Mmf, sorry -” Gus said, mouth still half-full of food.
gorgeous set by Lady!