That was the thing. Cecily Gallivan had, at worst come across as silly to Fitz—though in truth, it had only been in the past year that he had grown to see her as woman at all, not just Nathaniel Gallivan's young daughter. It made her wantonness earlier in the day all the more confusing and, if he was honest, arousing. Of thought. And other things.

"I hadn't thought so," Fitz answered after taking another drink. "She seemed to be decidedly...ordinary, if a bit quidditch-obsessed." Far be it for Fitzroy Prewett to condemn anyone for that however. "She was not experienced by any stretch," he added quickly, recalling the lack of practice (but not enthusiasm) to her movements, "but plainly not for lack of interest."