felixfortescue-blog

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That sounds like a challenge, Fawley.

I’m sure you’ll try.

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Oi! I'll get you for that, Fawley. Mark my bloody words.

Yeah, yeah.

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The usual, probably. Overdue to be getting to practice, aren't we?

That’s right. What would Peakes think if he caught wind of you ruining the team’s star chaser with your mono? Hands off, Fortescue.

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The answer is always whiskey, Hollingberry. Never trust a Wasp who doesn't drink his firewhiskey. 

If I give too much away, I take away the mystery. Whatever you fancy. I have all sorts of bottles. You are the guest. 

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Well I was hoping to avoid being called a degenerate and a lost cause today so that wasn't really on the agenda, no. 

—Bloody hell, Fortescue. Peakes is right around the bloody corner. Do you really want The Talk again? I don’t know about you but I’m done being on suicide watch.

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Those are some very vague statistics you're throwing out there Hollingberry. I like those odds. What are we drinking then?

You’ll have to find out that one on your own. But plenty of people have entered and lived to tell the tale. 

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Personally I think it's very big of me to humor your megalomania, Fawley. You're welcome.

I thought we were over the whole denial thing.

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Well that explains it then. Is the dragon particularly hungry or do you just not like parting with your gold? A lad hears things.

It’s made of the finest dragon skin and it’s my loveliest possession.

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I've heard rumors that those who dare to enter your lair never leave again, Hollingberry. Is it true you have your own dungeon?

Of course it is, Fortescue. Enough hot chocolate and booze for the both of us.

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Do you kiss it goodnight and spoon it through the witching hour, Noel?

I don’t think you understand how close I am with my wallet. 

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You're worse than my nan's bingo circle, Fawley. Can't take you anywhere.

Whatever. Nobody’s bloody gossiping.

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Maybe you've just never met a truly talented pick-pocket before. Unless you're suggesting you have a deeply psychic connection with your wallet.

'course I do. Blokes don't touch me without me knowin' and definitely not without my permission. And my wallet's a part of me.

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Who says I do? Come along, Fawley, I thought we were here to practice, not gossip in the locker rooms.

So what if it is? Who’s to blame for that? Since when did you start listening to what I had to say? 

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That's usually code for "I'm about to steal your wallet," Noel.  The leering is just a distraction. You do still have all your gold, right?

…I thought it’d be a bit cheaper. The bloke didn’t seem that bad. He told me I looked nice in my blouse, but he was probably just staring at my tits.

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Sounds like a dodgy sort to me, all that extra polish is probably just covering up the dents from where he dropped it. Were you windowshopping for brooms down Knockturn Alley, Noel?

Right. Nah, he just wanted way too much for the Cleansweep. Practically the same price as the new Nimbus, which is better. I was just browsin’. A girl likes her brooms.

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It seemed rude not to when you were so far into it. So the nimbus was not a nimbus but really a cleansweep? Why were you looking at Nimbuses anyway?

So ya just stood there for the whole twenty minute story?

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Were you talking to me? I thought you were just ranting out loud.

—So I told him that he can’t sell a bloody Cleansweep at Nimbus prices just because he threw another bit of polish on it.

Sorry, am I borin’ ya?