Shula coughed. She'd done her best to pay attention to the discussion - but her interest in it had waned very quickly and while she'd definitely enjoyed the momentary distraction that was watching Abbas, and his beautiful curls, she'd already investigated the entire room with her eyes and was considering counting the light fixtures. It all sounded very pointless.

Death wasn't that strange a thing in their world and she knew spectators enjoyed seeing as much blood and gore as they enjoyed everything else about the game. They literally had players armed with bats hitting explosive balls at other people with the intention to maim and knock players off their brooms often several hundreds of feet in the air. As a seeker whose capture of the snitch could very well be the difference in winning and loosing a game such bludgers were constantly coming her way. It was a fact of life. It was why Quidditch wasn't exactly seen as the most ladylike of sports and had her own family not been so involved in the game she very much doubted Mikail would even have let her play, even if it was one of the few things she was actually good at.

Her leg started to twitch and she started to yearn to move as she listened to everybody and she tried to still it.... trying to at least pretend to be somber and well behaved.  It was on the tip of her tongue to remark that she wouldn't be getting into any fights and was raring to go if Hassan needed her to replace him because she was bored and needed something to do but she held it in.

"So, be nice, don't 'goad' " She paused, reusing the word her brother had used and turning the word over with her tongue - it was such a funny word and she would've liked to say it several more times as she had liked the way it sounded but her eye fell on Mikail and she quickly decided to resist the urge to do so and rushed through the rest of her sentence. "the British and sit tight whilst we wait for further news. Is that it? Can we go now or is there something else we need to do?"