There's bravery in being soft.

If there was one thing Sturgis was learning, it was that he had to care about his status. Especially considering his job. He was an open target for anyone who decided that code three or higher wasn’t worthy of participating in the sport. The bruises he carried at present were a sign of just that. He’d managed to stay on the damn broom regardless. To hell with anyone who tried to keep him from his game. As someone entered the locker room, he opened one eye, then two. “Please say there’s ice or whiskey in your hands.”

There was a clear grumble when his eyes landed on the deepening bruises the other held. Bitting back a sware, Reginal’ds fingers tapped idly against the desk, the only clear show of frustration.  “Sit down, && stay still.” His tone probably overly harsh was not directly aimed at Sturgis. Yes, he was constantly perplexed at the others stupid devotion to a job that could leave him in such a state, but it was also something he found admirable. 

The cat didn’t look starved for anything, but it still stared at him from where he stood in front of the shop. It had large eyes, and it didn’t blink even once. It made him uncomfortable. Theodore had a kneazle of his own, but this one seemed incredibly focused on the object in his hand. A muffin, to be exact. With a sigh of defeat ( this mental test of wills was grating ), he bends down and lets the little beast indulge himself in his morning breakfast. “Spoiled beast.”

Brows knitted together at the sight. It wasn’t that he was surprised to see the Nott fellow feeding the stray. because really even with all the rumours that Reginald would hear, it wasn’t an oddity to him, to see these glimpses of kindness in others. What truly confused him was that the cat was even interested in the muffin. “Isn’t that bad for him?” He couldn’t help the comment, even if he knew he’d be better served by keeping his mouth firmly shut. 

GENERAL : THIS OR THAT

Ted sighed, almost dreamily. Before he heard the sour tone to Reg’s voice and he shook his head. “You lot have no sense of wonder. In times like today, don’t we need a little of that? Something beautiful to keep us completely enthralled in wild wonder.” Then he realized how he sounded and laughed. “Or maybe I’m just too much of a romantic to be tamed into the harsh realities of everything around us. But snow would be a niec change. Quiet, calm. I’ll shut up now.”

He’d almost done a double-take, seeing her there, something was clearly wrong && Reginald’s stomach drop at the thought. Making his way to her, “Sorry I’m late.” He wasn’t those words, spoken louder than normal, where for everyone else. He didn’t trust his coworkers explicitly, nor did he trust the patients. Now closer, close enough for his words to remain unheard by others, he finally mumbled. “You’re bringing attention to yourself just standing out here, what’s wrong?”

Ah, snow. One of those wonders that always had Ted peering out the window late winter nights. “Anything can happen…. Don’t count out Jack Frost just yet, Reg.” He mused as he looked up at the sky. “What an end to the festival… Small snow storm.”

The others clear excitement at the idea would have been an annoyance had Reg not half expected it.  “It would surely be an inconvenience, but you’re right, shouldn't count anything out anymore.” But surely the organisers wouldn’t have overlooked bribing the weather witches to keep it clear-skied && pleasant for the festivities.  

“There are places where you can warm-up, Reginald.” The Hufflepuff was certainly a grumpy fellow, but Theo found it endearing. He didn’t blow everything out of proportion like so many others did. “Evening,” he said after a moment, realizing he hadn’t said anything to announce his presence. It was a little late of a response, but he doubted Reg cared much. “Caffeine instead of beer?”

“Perhaps but I prefer the weather like this, it’s not too cold, can you just imagine the craziness had they planned this last year?” The young man breathed, holding the chilled breath in his lungs, enjoying the way it seemed to waken him to the evening. “I’m on call.” He offered, as a brief explanation. In truth he had never been a big drinker, with work && then helping out at home, Reginald had always placed his responsibilities above any passing whim. 

The party was alive and Frank was enjoying the freedom of it; even if it was most likely constructed to be a surveillance mission. He’d taken up station at one of the bars; silently watching people as he had drink after drink. Not that he wasn’t in the party mood; it was just a bd habit he’d formed over the years.  Making himself as invisible as possible and watching life moving around him. He felt it best that he kept as low a profile as possible; he didn’t want to bring any more unwanted attention his way. That was until someone approached him and the alcohol started to talk. 

‘‘How about a beer? My round?’‘ He asked; gesturing towards the bartender.

He didn’t know why he’d even walked into the bar. Reginald had just allowed himself to be swayed by the atmosphere, following the crows, enjoying the light ambient.  Making his way to the bar, Reg wondered what non-alcholic drinks they might serve, if maybe he should, turn right around && escape while he could. “Thanks, but no. Came that instant response. “Not drinking tonight, have to work.” Came the mumbled excuse.