#benflavio

“I’m going!” Ben snaps, clearly annoyed at being rushed. Squaring his shoulders, the teen drops his normally expressive face into something serious and stoney. Coco imagines he’s going for cool, but he seems to have landed somewhere between dead-eyed and constipated.

The group shuffles its way over to a cluster of black, leather couches near the entrance of the lounge. “This is going to be a disaster,” Amanda sing-songs with confidence.

Somehow, it goes even worse than Coco expected.

No sooner has Ben sidled up to the group than it becomes clear he has absolutely no opening line beyond a plain introduction. Of course, to someone as emotionally high-strung as Ben…this obvious tactic was never going to penetrate the reptile portion of his brain.

The moment the honey-haired boy turns those blue eyes up at the American, any hope of success goes out the window.

“Hello,” the boy smiles encouragingly at the silent wizard. His greeting is filtered through the prism of a pretty, European accent – one that has the ever perceptive Victoria covering her eyes in embarrassment for what it will surely do to their friend.

Her fears are quickly realized. “Yooo,” the Salem student responds in one long breath. Over on the couch, Learner is taking Vicky’s cue and hiding behind a pillow. Ben coughs dryly and tries again. “Hey.”

The three students continue to look confused before the girl laughs and gives a small wave. “Hey.”

Recognizing an apparently dangerous situation, Ben’s brain cells rapidly bail on him. “Yeah, do y’all know where the bathroom is?” He honks the question out at max volume, sending the trio rocking back slightly on their heels.

The blue-eyed boy shakes his head slowly, looking genuinely sorry he can’t help. “No.”

Sensing his presence is needed, their apparent host is soon at Ben’s elbow. Coco has no idea how or why she recognizes the auburn-haired boy as their host, Bublik. Though she imagines it’s the same way she and the others knew to brew their own potions, and show up to this particular door at ten o’clock tonight.

Unfortunately, whatever powers their host used to compel their attendance at his house party – he’s not using them to read Ben’s panic as he approaches the awkward quartet.

“What’s that?” he asks the American, having heard the tail end of his cringe-worthy exchange with the Beauxbatons group. “You need to take a shit? Bathroom is door at far-right corner.” He points somewhere to his left.