See, Lestrange wasn’t laughing, which meant he knew too well what this hollowness felt like. In the burst of a moment, he had to wonder why, but although they’d been teammates once at school, he couldn’t pretend to know him well enough to tell. He was a Lestrange, after all: Theo couldn’t fathom what kind of problems a family like that might have. Not that Cassius seemed like the worst of them... he couldn’t be, if Nathaniel Gallivan had always liked him.
(Not that there needed to be an easy reason for the pointlessness. And how could he ask, if that might also mean explaining why he felt this way?)
“Hm,” Theo hummed instead, considering the cigarette. It didn’t sound promising, really - but what was he expecting? “Maybe I’ll try sometime.” His gaze flickered upwards from the cigarette stub to the seeker’s eyes, a glacial, unreadable blue. “And the quidditch?” Theo asked, feeling a little desperation fraying at the edges at this thought. “The playing doesn’t help either?” Surely seeking professionally was still some kind of direction, some focus? It had to be a better distraction from the emptiness than just watching people play quidditch.
(Not that there needed to be an easy reason for the pointlessness. And how could he ask, if that might also mean explaining why he felt this way?)
“Hm,” Theo hummed instead, considering the cigarette. It didn’t sound promising, really - but what was he expecting? “Maybe I’ll try sometime.” His gaze flickered upwards from the cigarette stub to the seeker’s eyes, a glacial, unreadable blue. “And the quidditch?” Theo asked, feeling a little desperation fraying at the edges at this thought. “The playing doesn’t help either?” Surely seeking professionally was still some kind of direction, some focus? It had to be a better distraction from the emptiness than just watching people play quidditch.
