megan didn’t stumble. she was always graceful, even when drunk. so no, she didn’t STUMBLE into seamus - she simply tripped. someone else tripped her. grabbing seamus by the arms to stabilise herself, she huffed at the sight of him. “oh, it’s YOU.” straightening herself, she huffed again. “y’know, i think we could really get along if you didn’t have such shitty taste in men. i could help you, even - but you ruined it. sorry, not sorry.”
seamus instinctively grabbed megan’s arms when she grabbed his, as much a defense tactic as it was to make sure she wasn’t about to fall on her face. “oh?” he arched an eyebrow, letting her finish. “hello to you too.” seamus was fairly certain he hadn’t said more than three words to megan off the quidditch pitch since early sixth year. so the timing was odd, but he understood where she was coming from to a point. “i — sorry to disappoint?” it’s not like your taste in girls is much better, he very nearly said. but somehow, his limited self-control pulled through in the interest of not getting hit.
