#luciansflint

Lucian had been waiting long enough to make her feel at least a little guilty— which, admittedly, was no easy feat. By the time Marlene finally hurried down the Ministry steps, shrugging into her coat and looking only mildly frazzled, she was already calling his name. She reached him without slowing, pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, and exhaled a breathless, “Sorry. Apparently leaving work on time is considered a personal attack.”

The witch slipped her arm through his as though she hadn’t kept him there at all, flashing him a grin that bordered on dangerous. “Come on, then. I’ve had a miserable day and you promised me drinks, so I fully expect us both to make regrettable decisions before the night’s over.”

The sensible thing would have been to go home. Sabrina had told herself as much the moment she'd left the Ministry, again as she crossed into the quieter streets, and once more when the silhouette of the Quidditch pitch came into view against the fading evening sky. She had ample opportunity to turn back and no shortage of excuses to convince herself that whatever curiosity had lingered since the Burke gala had no place demanding another evening of her time. Yet her footsteps never faltered.

Practice was still underway when she arrived and she chose a place along the railing without drawing attention to herself, gloved hands resting lightly against the worn wood and from there, she simply watched. Removed from polished ballrooms and carefully measured conversation, Lucian Flint seemed... lighter. There was an ease to him she hadn't yet encountered, one untouched by family names or expectations. It suited him rather well, and that realization came with a quiet annoyance.

When the whistle finally signaled the end of practice, the witch made no move to leave as she watched as teammates dispersed mindful of the curfew creeping ever closer. Only then did she allow herself to wonder whether coming here had been a mistake. Not because she regretted it but because, for perhaps the first time in a very long while, she had arrived somewhere without a purpose she could convincingly explain, even to herself. So she waited to see if he'd notice her, and if he didn't... she hadn't yet decided whether she'd be relieved or disappointed.

Ludo spotted Flint before he spotted him. Not a difficult feat, really. Lucian had a habit of positioning himself just outside the center of things, just far enough to avoid becoming the focus of attention. Amused, he made his way over, drink in hand.

"So which one is it?" His expression remained perfectly innocent. "The witch you've got your eye on, or the witch who's got hers on you." Only then did he glance over with a grin. "Don't tell me it's neither." His gaze swept the ballroom once more. "Because if you're not going to make a move, I'll have to do all the work myself, and frankly, I wasn't planning on spending my evening arranging introductions."

When she spotted him across the ballroom, she found herself changing course almost without thinking. The smile she offered upon reaching him was as poised as ever, though there was something distinctly knowing in it. "Mr. Flint." Their last conversation had left Sabrina with an unfamiliar problem: she had not quite decided what to make of Lucian Flint. Shee generally preferred people to fit neatly into the categories she assigned them and Lucian had, rather inconveniently, stepped outside his.

"I'll admit, I didn't expect to see you here tonight." The comment was light enough, though the slight arch of her brow suggested she was interested in hearing what had brought him here. "Though I suppose that would have been disappointing," she added, the hint of a smile touching her lips. As the orchestra struck up another dance, Sabrina glanced toward the floor before returning her attention to him. "Tell me, are you as interesting a dance partner as you are a conversationalist?" Without waiting long enough for him to answer, she extended her hand. "I'd like to find out."

Marlene Mckinnon knew how to party, even if it was a Ministry affair and awfully respectful of pureblood traditions. She'd found a way to get one of the bartenders to hand her a full bottle of firewhiskey and she'd managed to sneak it away with no one stopping her. Who to share it with was a question yet to be answered, her eyes searching through the crowd until they spotted a familiar face standing on a corner by himself. Unable to help herself, the blonde made her way over, tapping on Lucian's shoulder to get his attention. "Hello darling," she offered with a posh accent very much unlike her own scottish burr. "Are you drunk yet or am I about to make your night a whole lot better?"

He'd been watching the practice with keen eyes, a favorite passtime of his nowadays. Ludo valued talent like no other and he believed in supporting those who had it, hoping to help shape the great players of history. Once it was done, he'd waited for most to leave until he caught a moment alone with their star player and his friend. "Look at you, all improving and kicking ass," the wizard called out with a grin plastered on his lips. "And you don't even look tired."