Ben was looking forward to this immensely. He always liked Quidditch, of course, regardless of where he was sat or who was playing. Being in a private box was a welcome luxury, particularly given that he likely couldn't have justified even a middle-of-the-pack seat in the stands below while still saving judiciously in order to provide for his new household (the rent and utilities of which, he was acutely aware, he would have to shoulder in a few short months). He could have wished for something stronger than champagne, but given they had no idea how long the game was going to last, it was probably a wise restriction on Fitz' part.

Of course, most of his attention was focused on the match, not the booze. He was keenly watching Art, of course, but let his eyes drift through the rest of the players as the game started. The Hawaiians had two girls on the team, which was secretly exciting to him — he rather enjoyed watching women play Quidditch. He didn't really understand how any red-blooded young man could reasonably be against women playing. Women on broomsticks were sexy, full stop. He may not be able to actually do anything, now that he was married, but that didn't mean he couldn't watch and enjoy while the match lasted.

Apparently he wasn't the only one enjoying the view — or at least, Miss Gallivan's comment struck him in that light. Perhaps he was only projecting onto her because of his own feelings about it, but he couldn't help but respond with a chuckle, "Suave is a strange word to use to describe a beater, don't you think?"