Lucian Flint

"That's an adorable nickname, but Marls works brilliantly too," the blonde teased as she hooked her arm around his and urged him away from the paintings and the bustling crowd. "I got us a bottle, we can't get shitfaced on one bottle alone, so I guess we've no real trouble here." Marlene said as she led them into one of the balconies, deciding this was a good enough spot for them to pop open the bottle she'd snatched. Doing so, she took a sip directly from the bottle, letting the alcohol burn down her throat before passing it to Lucian. "Come on, buddy, your turn. You've got this," she encouraged him as though it was the most difficult task ahead. "We need this night not to be as boring as it has been so far, I promise I'll wake you up for training myself if I have to."

"Where are you dragging me?" he questioned as her arm slotted into his, a groan in his voice as she pulled him along. Despite his groan he was quite happy to see her, both because she was a friendly face and because she was very entertaining. "Where did you get that from?" he laughed, following her out onto the balcony. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a bad influence?" he asked, knowing that he had multiple times. He took the bottle off her and a took a swig, giving a small grimace at the burn. "I'll hold you to that." He passed the bottle back to her, walking to the edge of the balcony and leaning back against the railing. "I take it you're having fun," he said sarcastically.

A corner of her mouth curved upward at his admission. "Coerced?" she repeated, as though she found the notion difficult to believe. "Now that's a story." The temptation to press further was there, but she resisted it. If Lucian wanted her to know more, he would tell her. If not, she had little interest in rewarding evasiveness with curiosity. She focused on the use of her first name instead, which did not escape her notice, nor did the teasing remark that followed, earning him a brief glance as he took her hand at last. "Have I?" she asked lightly. "I was under the impression I was being perfectly reasonable." Which, for Sabrina, was often far more dangerous than charming.

"Not really my thing," he confirmed with a nod, glancing at the room around him. Not only was he not into the pureblood parties (or generally invited to them), he wasn't particularly into art either. So coresion had been necessary to get him here. "But it's unfortunately not a very exciting story." He led her onto the dancefloor once she took his hand, a soft chuckle leaving his lips. "Maybe this is how you treat others, Sabrina, but you're not usually so complimentary to me." In fact, she could be anything but, and had spent a large portion of their schooling years looking at him with disgust. He wondered vaguelly what Nathan would think if he spotted them.

where: burke gala who: @luciansflint

Lucian spotted Sabrina when she was half way across the room, surprised when her direction led her straight to him. "Sabrina," he replied in greeting, her first name rolling off his toungue easily. Pureblood society had refused to accept him; he wasn't about to live by their niceties. "I was coersed," he admitted, though he didn't offer up any more details than that. It was entertaining watching her wonder, watching her try to figure him out. "You're on charm offensive today," he noted, a teasing lilt to his voice as he raised an eyebrow lazily. He had no doubt that he wouldn't have crossed her mind had she not spotted him. He watched her as she held her hand out, letting her wait a little before he took her hand. "Isn't asking someone to dance the man's job?" he queried, leading her into the throngs of dancers. He placed a light hand on her waist once they were in place, a slight smirk on his lips. "At least let me lead, yeah?" he teased, pulling her into the dance. Truthfully, he was just an okay dancer, but he was sure he could make up for that.

where: burke gala who: @luciansflint

Lucian had been at this "party" a couple of hours now and had yet to be sufficiently entertained. He usually avoided events like this, finding that he had far too high a chance of running into Nathaniel or his father. Meeting them instantly put him in a sour mood and often ended up with him saying or doing something his mum would later give out to him for. He only came because all his teammates were and he couldn't think of a good enough excuse to get out of it. He stared at a painting, not really taking any of it in, while he decided how early it would be appropriate to leave when he felt a tap on his shoulder. "Here comes trouble," he greeted dryly, spotting the whiskey in her hand. "I have training tomorrow, you are not getting me shitfaced."

"I'm aware." She tried to sound unbothered by it, but anyone that knew her would realise that she was in fact quite bothered. Winning mattered to her, she couldn't pretend that it didn't. "We are getting a replacement, been announced just last week. She's pregnant." Emma grimaced, rolling her eyes at how much of an inconvenience it was to her personally. Willa had avoiding the quaffle as to not get hurt, ridiculous.

"Who's replacing her?" he asked curiously. It was always exciting when players moved mid seasons, especially when they had been playing pooly up to then. He nodded in understanding as Emma explained the pregnancy. "I suppose that explains why she was avoiding the quaffle."

Marlene laughed softly under her breath. "Mm, see, I think your mother gives people far too much credit. Most of them are just bored and invasive." She glanced sideways at him then, a teasing smile tugging at her mouth. "Though, to be fair, you are very interesting. Tragic backstory, Quidditch career, expensive taste in footwear. I mean you’ve got all the makings of a proper public fascination."

"Yes well, she believes very strongly in karma," he laughed a little. "It keeps her from saying anything mean." About most people anyway; his father was an exception. "It sounds like quite a boring story to me," he replied, grimacing. He had at least learned that you couldn't trust everything you read in the paper.s

The blonde's expression softened for a fleeting second at his first comment, her gaze sliding toward him as they walked. “Right, because the wizarding public has never once managed to mind their own business,” she said dryly. There was something quieter beneath the joke, though-- mostly familiarity with what it felt like to have people decide who you were before you even opened your mouth. She bumped her shoulder lightly against his. “For what it’s worth, I think most of them are far less interesting than whatever stories they’re inventing about you.”

"Well if I was to listen to my mother it's only because their own lives are so boring," he told her, though he didn't agree. He thought people were just nosy, and didn't care about disrupting other people's lives as long as it didn't hurt their own. His mother was very much a believer that people were only mean to you because they were jealous of you. Lucian knew that some people were just pricks. "I am very interesting," he joked.

Sabrina hummed softly at his mention of the betting offices, the sound thoughtful rather than dismissive as her gaze lingered on him. She didn’t pull back when he leaned in-- if anything, she held her ground a fraction too easily, as though the implication didn’t quite land the way he expected. “Would that be such a scandal?” she returned, light but deliberate, the hint of a smile playing at her lips as she let the moment stretch just a beat longer than necessary. Then she shifted, just enough to ease the tension without breaking it entirely. “Though I imagine it would disappoint a fair number of people if I were.” Her eyes flickered over him briefly as she wondered, curiosity threading through her tone in a way that felt uncharacteristically genuine. “If winning isn’t the most important part, then what is?”

Amycus's eyes narrowed at the mention of his sister. Messing with Alecto, even suggesting messing with her, was all it took to send Amycus from a harmless dickhead to actually dangerous. "Scared she might decide to play again and put you out of a job?" He asked with a smirk. "Based on what I just saw, she wouldn't struggle to take your spot."

"Never scared of a little competition, Carrow, I'd happily see her back on a broom." Lucian had once cared a lot what these people thought, desperate to fit in to their little circle. But in the end nothing he could do mattered as long as his father refused to accept him so he had given up caring. Not giving in to the taunts was a skill that had taken him even longer to master. "Then isn't it a pity she's wasting her talents."

Marlene let out a quiet laugh, glancing sideways at him as they walked. “Half an hour later would’ve only given me half an hour more to dread the stack of parchment I abandoned on my desk.” She nudged him lightly with her shoulder. “Besides, you looked far too comfortable lurking out there. Very tragic. Very mysterious. I’m sure at least three people invented elaborate stories about you while they passed.”

"I could do with less speculative stories being written about me," he scoffed jokingly, with a roll of his eyes. Being a quidditch player he knew he had signed up for a career in the public eye but it wasn't something he always enjoyed. He might have done, in another world where his every move wasn't compared to his brother's and underscored by his father's lack of interest. "Somewhere different it is."

The witch held his gaze for a beat, as though recalibrating him in real time. The easy confidence, the lack of defensiveness— none of it fit as neatly into the version of Lucian she had carried for years. “That should make for an interesting match,” she said as her expression shifted, something quieter settling there as she let the conversation stretch instead of cutting it short. “Confidence suits you, I think.” It was a dangerous thing to say, but she let it stand. Then, with the faintest tilt of her head, curiosity threading through her tone, she added, “Do you actually enjoy it? The pressure of it all, I mean. Or is it only the winning that matters?”

"It's certainly keeping the betting officers busy," he mused, pushing his damp hair back off his forehead. He was quite surprised that this conversation was still happening; that Sabrina hadn't decided she'd had enough and left with some snipe. Lucian's lips curled into a smirk and he leaned closer to murmur to her, "Careful, Avery, someone might think you're flirting with me." He laughed, shaking his head. "Winning's the least important part. Well.. not the most important anyway. It does help make up for all the bruises."

where: magpies' pitch who: @luciansflint

Lucian dragged his forearm across his forehead as his team pulled away from the huddle, wiping his sweat from his forehead. It had been a rather strenuous practice, preparing for a big match this weekend, and he was glad for it to be done. He propped his broomstick onto his shoulder, walking towards the changing rooms when he heard someone shout out. "Have you been sitting there watching the whole time?" Lucian laughed, walking towards his friend. He greeted him with a fist bump, far too sweaty to force the man to hug him.

"Please. That was pure luck on your seeker's part. I would've gotten the snitch if it was a game that actually counted." Emma rolled her eyes. She had always been a sore loser, holding herself to the highest standard. Sure while she claimed the game didn't count she still beat herself up for losing. She just didn't let people see that, it would give them ammunition and she preferred to appear unfazed.

"But you didn't," Lucian pointed out with a lobsided but charming grin. He wasn't actually trying to annoy her but it had been quite an unexpected win; it ended a lot quicker than any of them had been prepared for. That and he did love winning, they all did. "In your defense, you're not the problem. Your keeper has been letting balls in for weeks."

where: ministry of magic who: @luciansflint

Lucian was leaning against the wall, one foot up behind him as he rested lightly. He was standing beside the door waiting, for far too long, for Marlene to join him. In a blur she was suddenly in front of him, pressing forward to kiss his cheek before he had registered her presence. "Hi," he laughed, kissing her back. "You know you could have just asked to meet half an hour later. People were starting to feel sorry for me, standing here on my lonesome."

Sabrina let her gaze linger on him a moment longer than politeness required, as if weighing whether this conversation itself was already crossing some invisible line. Perhaps that was exactly what made it interesting. “A match on Saturday,” she repeated, almost thoughtfully, before the faintest curve touched her lips. “Then I suppose I ought to wish you luck, if only so I am spared whatever mood you’d inflict on the world if things go poorly.” The remark was light, but deliberate, a measured step further than she should have taken. The witch folded her arms, studying him with that quiet, assessing precision that rarely left her. “You’ve been at it long enough to be confident, I assume. Feel like it's going to be a win?"

"Mm, against the Harpies," he elaborated with a soft nod. He gave a quick smirk at her wish of good luck, a lazy shrug curling his free shoulder. "I wouldn't say my moods are that bad. I'm mature now," he explained, though whether it was true or not was surely up for debate. "Fairly confident," he agreed. Cocky, some might call it. Once upon a time quidditch had made him almost sick with nerves but ever since joining the profession leagues he had had a quiet confidence in all his moves. "I can hardly say I think we're going to lose, can I?" he replied. "It'll be close, they're tough."

Just about done with errands, Sabrina was ready to have the night to herself, even if she had no particular plan just yet. The brunette was walking down the street, considering her options, when someone dropped a bottle of water at her feet. Out of habit, both her job and upbringing installing such attentiveness on her, the witch reached for the bottle and picked it up. She handed it over, a polite smile on her face until she recognised who it belonged to. “Right, you’re welcome,” she offered shortly at first, catching up with her brain for a moment. “Coming back from practice?” She wondered, nodding to the bag on his shoulder.

Lucian laughed as Sabrina handed the bottle over, noticing how her expression went from a polite smile to a much more hostile expression. He tossed the bottle back into his bag, nodding as he zipped it back up again. "Yeah. We have a match on Saturday so our last practice before then." Tomorrow would be spent recovering and prepping before the match the following day. Not that he expected Sabrina cared at all.

Amycus stuck his foot out, trapping the water bottle beneath his boot. It was tempting, so tempting, to use the tiniest bit of pressure and crush the bottle, rather than seeking to return it.

"I would have been a seeker if that was the case," Lucian drawled sarcastically, rolling his eyes. He watched as Amycus tossed the bottle from hand to hand, a bored expression on his own face. Jokes about his half brother had long since gotten old. "Why? Are you hoping we'll have something in common? Alecto's quite special."