The Moroccan beater shattered Pettigrew's kneecap, causing Fallon to hiss in sympathy. That wasn't an injury she would wish upon someone, though at least it allowed him to stay in the game properly. A dislocated shoulder would be a far worse injury to manage in such a fast paced game.

"Keeping is a fun position," she mused. It wasn't her favorite — Fallon vastly preferred chasing above all else — but it wasn't as mindless as seeking. if she had the choice, she would remove the snitch from the game in its entirety. The seekers were always so far removed from the game and often a distraction from the action. She would admit watching for a glint of gold wasn't exactly easy, but it still wasn't as interesting as watching the beaters smack balls across the field.

She tore her attention from the game at his comment to look over at him. And Merlin, what was it with her and having random conversations with attractive strangers lately? Fallon had made it nearly twenty-five years without so much as a crush on another person (or at least none she'd admit to), and suddenly everywhere she looked stood attractive men. It wasn't fair. "It's been years since I last saw a match," Fallon offered with a shrug. She took a drink to steady her sudden nerves, more thankful than other for her excellent poker face. Could his eyes be any more blue?