The ball had never been high on his agenda. It had only become of interest to him when he realised that Quinn was, in fact, not going. This gave him an opportunity to one up Gillespie, showing up to the ball with Emma on his arm. His outfit had been very carefully chosen to make him look handsome, but not flashy enough to draw attention to him; sleek black suit, matched with a vibrant red tie to still show his house spirit amongst the festivities.
As the night drew on, Sawyer found himself losing Emma to the crowd -- or more specifically, he found himself losing her to the arms of Ben. While at first he felt his anger rising, sitting at a table nursing a butterbeer and grinding his teeth together, he soon realised that it has left him with yet another opportunity. Ben, occupied with entertaining the mass of people that always seemed to hang around him, has seemingly forgotten about his unspoken plans to meet up with his girlfriend. Ones that Sawyer had overheard him discussing with Miguel earlier, but it seems now to be the furthest thing from the young Quidditch player’s mind.
Not quite sure what draws him toward the Quidditch pitch to begin with -- he supposes if the couple was going to rendezvous somewhere underneath the guise of the night, it would be somewhere they both know quite well. Sawyer has seen Quinn hanging around for a few of Ben’s practices --- not as often as Emma, but she made an effort to be there as much as she could. Despite the brisk winter’s air bringing a pink into his cheeks, he continues down the moonlit path from the castle. Even the grounds had been decorated for the ball, with twinkling lights floating in the air to illuminate paths, and floating decorations hovering around trees, archways where there normally wouldn’t be decorated with blooming flowers and the occasional couple underneath them, stealing a moment to themselves. Sawyer keeps to himself, no eye contact with any other students lest they ask him where his girlfriend is -- something he would rather not think about now.
With the light covering of snow across the pitch, it crunches underfoot as he makes his way toward the one glowing light in the pitch. If she were going for stealth, a beacon drawing him directly toward her is ill-advised. Nonetheless, it gives him the light to notice how her hair cascades over her shoulders, and in the light of the stars and the moon above, he notices the softness of her skin, the pink in her cheeks from the cold air. When she turns to him, he jumps back slightly as she is startled, and falls to the ground. A hand reaching to press against his chest, embarrassed that she managed to scare him when he already knew she was there.
“Oh, my god, Quinn -- are you okay?” And once he’s over the way his heart beats in his chest, he is rushing to her side. She plays it off so coyly, as if it had been her plan all along, and Sawyer finds himself smiling at her. A soft, kind smile, one that he doesn’t often have for other people. He takes up her offer to seat himself beside her, and brings his knees up slightly to his chest.
“Oh, um. Thanks. I guess anyone kind of looks good in a suit, huh? I mean. You look really nice, too. I know you weren’t -- that you aren’t coming, but you look -- um. Beautiful. Your hair looks really nice.” His cheeks suddenly burn -- smooth, Sawyer. “What are you --- what are you doing out here all by yourself?”