watch out for talons.

Pandora was about to call him out for saying that, wanting them to treat him like some revered hero, but thankfully he had the sense to recover from it which pleased her. “Thankfully you took it back, or else I was going to seriously rethink our friendship here,” Pandora was only teasing at this point, watching as he dabbed at his shirt, only for the butterbeer to easily come off. “If it didn’t, there are spells we could use to get rid of the stains you know,” she grinned at him. “Some of them do, some people just walk out without saying anything. It’s pretty standard,” she shrugged, not wanting to let it bother her. That wasn’t why she’d gone into the career anyways. “Oh I’m sure not only you but hundreds of your fans must love your face as well.” She gave him a cheeky grin before shrugging. “I mean it was your face that had me somewhat falling for you back in the day anyways, despite all of your slytherin tendencies.”

“Of course. Couldn’t walk around with a friend like that, now could you? I mean, what would your other friends say?” he teased back, though his tone didn’t heavily indicate it. A lot of people didn’t quite understand his sense of humour when they first got to know him - which was understandable - as he wasn’t the best at separating when he was joking and when he was serious. “Oh shush you,” he grunted at her, his ears going slightly pink and he regretted not taking his wand out right away. “Do they? Huh. Maybe.. I don’t know.” Though when he thought about his own family, he wasn’t sure if any of them would take their time to thank the healers either and he definitely knew their reason for it. Scoffing, he nodded sarcastically. “Oh yeah, absolutely. They would cry themselves to sleep if that got ruined, and we can’t have any of that, now. I --- “ but he stopped and glanced over at Pandora. “My Slytherin tendencies? Oh yeah? And I who thought it was my spiffing personality. Oh well. I guess I can live with it being my face.”

“So you heard of me,” he was cheerful in the knowledge and waved away the comment about ‘ruining’ the pitch. “Improved it. Temporarily. A victimless prank. Yes, that was me.”

He caught the tone and his smile became a bit fixed. “Of course you don’t need to sell. You have legions of admirers…somewhere I’m sure.” Gilderoy looked around significantly, turning passive aggressive himself for a moment. 

“Red wine? Alright then, but you aren’t going to be happy tomorrow mixing hard liquor after that, Benji.”

“Heard of you? Of course, you ruined the pitch. Delayed our practice.” Benjamin scowled as Gilderoy argued that he had ‘improved’ the pitch, rather than destroyed it. He didn’t entirely agree with the the prank being victimless either. Raising an eyebrow, he watched as the other looked around, and found it slightly amusing how the tone had changed in his voice. “You’re quite right. I do have a few. This is actually one of the first moments I’ve had for myself all day,” he commented, sounding rather pleased. “Well, it was, at least. And yes, red wine. I don’t plan on having any hard liquor after this, I’ve got a game tomorrow,” he said, followed by an apologetic shrug - at least close to it. “So for now I think the wine is enough.”

“No, of course not everyone is like that. There are many loyal die-hard Quidditch fans, those are probably better to run into,” she mused before laughing at his reaction and shaking her head before grabbing a napkin for him. “This is why you invited me to so graciously keep you company,” she teased before rolling her eyes when he made the jab about wanting to kill her friends. “Also no Ben, we don’t actually get fanmail, that would be ridiculous and very inappropriate,” she made a face just thinking about it. “if you get hit in the face, you’ll be taken out and a substitute will be brought in. That won’t help you win the game,” she challenged, even though her knowledge of Quidditch was limited, having only really gone to games at Hogwarts because her house insisted on her supporting them in the stands.

“I rather prefer those, to be quite honest with you. Having proper Quidditch discussions, and especially when they treat us like some sort of heroes. No, that’s .. that’s actually too much sometimes. I take that back. Partially,” he decided, and reached out for the napkin she offered him. “Yeah, for sure,” he grunted, and wiped off the drops of butterbeer he managed to spill on himself. “Thanks. And thankfully this comes off easily.” Looking over at her again when she uncovered the truth about the fan mails he just shrugged. “Well, how could I know? I don’t work there. I just stop by from time to time. Though, from all the weird things you have to deal with, I hope people at least have the decency to say thank you,” he finished, though eying her again as she challenged him. He glanced at her for a few seconds. “Fine. I suppose you’re right. Our substitute is good and all, but we have better chances of winning if I’m there. Plus, I kinda like this face.”

“Don’t sound too enthused,” Gilderoy teased at his stiff acceptance, “I might get the wrong idea. I’m Gilderoy. Please don’t shorten it. It detracts. You are? And, while you’re at it, what drink am I getting you? You can start bragging any time by the way. Don’t hesitate. If you only take one thing away from this conversation let it be this: if you aren’t willing to talk yourself up, nobody else is likely to either. Sell, sell, sell until everybody’s buying. Though, of course, maybe you can skip that step somewhat, since you’re already star of the Falmouth Falcons and all.”

The name of the man with the combination of the words that came out of his mouth made everything seem clearer. As far as he could remember he could only think of one other person who would fit this description. “Gilderoy? As in Locke- Lockheart? The one who once ruined the Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts by carving his name into it?” Benjamin couldn’t hold back a snort, followed by a slight grin. “Benjamin. Flint. Feel free to shorten it,” he added. The invitation to start bragging made him raise his eyebrows. While he didn’t mind letting people know he was quite successful and well off, telling them discretely of course, he did not like it when people told him what to do. Even if it was bragging, it felt more like an order rather than an open invitation. “Right. I don’t think I need to sell anything. But thanks for the tip,” he said, tone slightly overly pleasant. “Oh - and red wine.”

Pandora only laughed when he rolled his eyes at her, because clearly she was very amused by the way he was behaving today. She’d always been on friendly terms with Benjamin and he was one of her most loyal patients after his Quidditch games. When he told her of the latest excuse he’d heard, she only scoffed in disgrace. “Do people actually people things like that would work?” Although, she took him in and shrugged. “Maybe she wanted the tickets, and a Quidditch player?” At his words, she only grinned and nodded. “You are right though, we really are the best people in the world…you’d be surprised by the amount of fanmail we get for saving you time and time again.” Pandora was only teasing of course, but she enjoyed it when she had a sparring partner like Benjamin. “Don’t be such a twat,” she swatted his arm before shaking her head. “Ruining your face is not going to help you win the game.”

“Apparently they do, yeah,” he replied, glad she found this as disgraceful as he did. “It’s happening more often than you’d think, but of course not everyone’s like that.” Most people actually were really nice. They complimented his latest game, wanted to talk about Quidditch, get tips or autographs. All these things usually made up for the more unwanted attention he had to deal with. He took a swig of his drink, then nearly choked on it as he heard her suggestion. “I- what? No. Oh shut up,” he muttered, coughing as he put the bottle back down. “When you’re not trying to kill your friends, you are,” he said, overly dramatic, then frowned. “You get fan mails? At the hospital?” That didn’t really sound believable, but when had he ever been excellent at calling a bluff? “How do you know? Sometimes weird things happens in games. Though I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Pandora only grinned when he spoke about how he’s paid more than enough, she knew Quidditch players were paid astronomically high, so clearly Benjamin was in the same bracket. “No, unfortunately for you, people think you’re just walking around, waiting to find people to distribute the tickets to.” Pandora laughed at the thought of Benjamin walking around with spare tickets to hand everyone. “Tomorrow huh? I’ll make sure to leave an empty bed for you by the time the match is over.” Even if he said he wasn’t going to show up–Pandora had her doubts. “Sometimes I want to come to one of your games, just to make sure you’re not purposely trying to hurt yourself,” she teased, taking a sip from the drink the bartender kept in front of her.

Benjamin rolled his eyes at her words, imagining just what she described, though a small grin was still visible on his face. “Mhm, as if that’s what I enjoy doing in my spare time. A woman today tried saying she'd just gotten out a relationship and therefore I should give her a ticket, to help her get over her heartbreak. That’s just - are they even trying at this point?” He asked, brows furrowed. He wasn’t quite sure if the woman had only wanted a ticket, but he let that slide and had turned her down nonetheless. “Why, thank you,” he replied sarcastically. “Honestly, if anyone deserves tickets it’s you lot, making sure we don’t die.” Ben snorted, taking a big sip of his drink. “Why on earth would I hurt myself on purpose? Ruin this face? I don’t think so. I mean .. unless it would win us the game. I suppose.”

“Oh? You’re a quidditch player?” Gilderoy analyzed Ben with renewed interest, albeit interest of a different sort on that news. “That’s embarrassing. Not your job of course. That I didn’t know you on sight. I’m a bit out of game. I didn’t keep up with the league while I was in Thailand.” He smirked a bit when the other man seemed to be staring at him for a few moments but then let his own eyes drift away as if he didn’t notice. “Why don’t I buy you a drink, areal drink this time, no butterbeer and you catch me up on everything I’ve been missing. in the quidditch world? Brag about your career a bit? I promise to be impressed.”

“Yeah, I am. Falmouth Falcons,” Ben confirmed proudly with a short nod. He didn’t care if people recognized him or not so he waved his hand as to reassure the other it didn’t matter. “It’s alright. Anyway I think the league isn’t exactly everyone’s priority these days.” The offer of a drink came as a slight surprise to Benjamin and he eyed the other carefully. He was always up for a chat about Quidditch, but the way the other was looking at him made him a bit uneasy. And he still couldn’t figure out why he looked so familiar. “Alright,” he said finally, though as if discussing a business proposal. “If you tell me your name first.”

It was rare for Amelia to crave a drink after work. But today had just been one of those days and so she found herself in the nearest bar. She would just have a few drinks, not enough to get drunk but enough that she’d feel more relaxed than she currently was, and then go home. She didn’t even plan on talking to anyone until she heard someone speak and after glancing around and seeing no one else there she assumed they were talking to her. “I’m sorry, but tickets for what?” She asked, her brows furrowing in confusion. “I’m not after any tickets. But if you’re giving out some politeness I’d take some of that from you.”

Maybe walking around in Diagon Alley the day before a match was a bad idea, and maybe he should’ve learned that by now, but he’d been in need of some new robes and figured he might as well go see the other shops while he was there. It had without a doubt been a mistake and had left him moody, which led him to accidentally accusing innocent people of something they hadn’t done. Upon hearing the strangers reply, he turned around on his stool and quickly realised his mistake. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards by her comment. “Quidditch.  It’s -.. it’s been a long day. Think I’ve got some politeness to spare. My bad.”

“I’d have to question your salary if people think it’s your second job to give out free tickets, because really–for a professional quiddith player, you get paid more than enough i’m sure,” she chuckled before gesturing for the barman to come over to her. she ordered another glass of wine, this time telling him not to start a tab or else she’d be here forever. “so–when is your next game? which really means, when should i expect to see you at St. Mungo’s again?”

“Oh, trust me, the Falcons pay enough. Which I thought people knew. Then again, I thought most people knew we didn’t get unlimited tickets we could hand out to strangers,” he snorted and took another swig of his butterbeer. He’d mostly gotten used to it, but on some days it just annoyed him more than others. “Tomorrow,” he replied, letting out a chuckle. “I’ll try to stay out of St. Mungo’s, promise. It’s the Canons, I should be fine. Their beaters are terrible. Which .. when I think about could be both a good and bad thing.”

Pandora had been about to leave the bar when she’d paid off her tab, until someone familiar caught her eye. Normally, she only spotted Benjamin when he’d be wheeled into her ward at St. Mungo’s with some injury or the other, so she was rather pleased to see him out and about. However, the moment she’d approached him, she heard his words and scoffed. “You know, not everyone is here trying to mooch off of you Benjamin,” she retorted with a huff before taking the seat next to him. “But seriously–is that all people are asking you all the time?”

Spinning around as he recognized the voice, a slightly forced, but apologetic, smile crossed his face. “Oh yeah? Well, maybe there’s a few exceptions to that, like yourself, but I think that’s what most people are trying to do,” he said with a shrug, watching happily as she took the seat next to him. “Nah, it’s not all they’re asking me. But always right before games people seem to think my second job is to hand out free tickets. Which, surprisingly, it isn’t.”

Gilderoy’s confusion at being greeted in such a way without even a hello and where have been all my life was genuine confusion. He shot the other man a smile anyway though as he signaled the bartender so he could order his own drink. “Only if you’re coming with me to the game,’ he replied, having the vague sense he should know the man he was speaking to but not sure who he was except important all the same. 

“I’ll take a slow screw,” Gilderoy ordered the drink while still looking at Benjamin. A screwdriver with slow gin fizz, perfectly innocent drink order. Fortune favored the bold anyway.

“On- what?” Confused, Benjamin turned around towards the voice. “I’m playing. Of course I’m going to be there, I-” Shaking his head he realised maybe the wizard wasn’t after some free tickets after all. “My bad, mate. Thought maybe you were after some tickets, like everyone else seems to be today.” Throwing another glance in Gilderoy’s direction, he thought he recognized him from somewhere, but couldn’t quite put his finger on it... A fan? No. He kept his gaze on Gilderoy for what was probably way longer than necessary, trying to figure out why he looked familiar, before turning his eyes away upon realising this.

(HUNTER PARRISH, 24, HE/HIM), have you seen (BENJAMIN FLINT ?) HE is working at (FALMOUTH FALCON AS A QUIDDITCH PLAYER) who, rumour has it, is also (NEUTRAL) but don’t tell anyone. Some people say they can be (ENTHUSIASTIC) and (PROUD), but they can also be (RUDE) and (HOT HEADED) so watch out!