[THD - The Goblin Hole] You're stabbing me through you [Quinn]

She was watching out the window. She'd never seen anything like this before, not in person. She'd heard people did this. She almost wanted to poke her head out the door to watch properly, but instead she settled for peeking through the dusty pane. It had been business as normal outside the window just moments before, a small crowd walking by the window of The Goblin Hole, a goblin-run establishment. Morwen had a mixed drink in front of her that tasted great but she had no clue what was in it and had been told by the bartender not to ask. She had been sipping it slowly, waiting for her friend Jane to meet her. Why Jane wanted to meet at The Goblin Hole was a mystery, but Morwen liked a little adventure from time to time. She enjoyed being somewhere new and somewhere fun.

Things were going poorly for Morwen, still. It was the weekend and she didn't have practice, which was nice, but she was still reeling from her loss at the League championship and still struggling to work harder than ever. Her meet and greet with Quinn Regan had only made things worse for her in terms of her spirit. She was still annoyed, though trying to get over it. Morwen's temper was like a boiler, it crept up and up until it was ready to blow. She was getting close to her boiling point now, so she needed some friends and some relaxation.

There was a live band at the bar tonight, playing some good music and trying to hype up the small crowd that gathered. Morwen wasn't paying it any attention. Instead, she was looking out the window and the crowd outside. A flash mob had began and everyone was dancing and Morwen felt invigorated. If she knew the dance, she'd probably be out there doing it, too. That's when she noticed the girl pushing her way through the crowd was none-other than Quinn herself, caught in the middle of the flash mob.

Morwen covered her mouth as she cackled to keep down the sound. Regan pushed her way through the door to the establishment, likely to get away from the movers and shakers outside. Morwen smiled at her and waved her over like they were good friends. “Having fun yet, Regan?” She asked playfully. She was in good spirits. Good enough that she didn't think Quinn would bother her.

As usual, Quinn Regan assumed that any commotion happening around her had something to do with her. It usually took nothing more than her appearance to cause a stir, she noted, but after the third person bumped into her without offering an apology or stopping her for a photo or an autograph, she knew something was up. Never mind that said bumpers were also moving in a choreographed fashion, moving almost as gracefully as the Falcons’ chasers flew down the pitch.

Needless to say, this was not the sort of situation she wanted to be in. Why did she have to keep wearing flat shoes on days when she sorely needed some extra height? Elbowing her way out of this crowd, which contained at least a dozen more people dancing, would have been much easier at an average height. “Oh for Merlin’s sake,” she elbowed another man out of the way when he only shimmied in response to her “‘Scuse me.”

She pushed her way out of the square and through the closest door, ready to seek refuge until people could come to their senses and only bother her in a way that made her feel appreciated. The Seeker was almost always expecting to be recognized, to hear her name on yet another fan’s lips, but she certainly wasn’t imagining the upbeat and almost cheerful hello that greeted her just a few seconds after she had entered the establishment.

Morwen Rhydderch had been less than grateful a few days ago when she had tried to talk to her. Had she been able to ruminate on her mistakes and see the light? She returned the wave, replacing her flash mob-induced scowl with her love-the-public smile, one eyebrow arched. She glanced over her shoulder, back through the window. The dancers were still going strong and it didn’t look like they would be slowing down any time soon. What harm could it do, really, to sit with the other woman for a few minutes as she waited it out?

Quinn slid onto the stool next to Morwen, declining when the goblin bartender asked what she’d like to drink. She was in no mood for alcohol, especially not if she was to keep her wits about her around the Harpies chaser. But apparently that wasn’t the appropriate answer for the goblin, who insisted that she order something or leave. It wouldn’t do to get into an argument with a goblin; she had found they weren’t as easily persuaded by quidditch memorabilia as wizards were. “Tea, then,” she settled on quickly, willing him to leave her be so she could focus on her new neighbor.

“Is this pre- or post-training drinking, then?” She asked with a friendly smirk, making a jab more at the coordination of the Harpies as a whole rather than anything more personal.

The jabs were already starting, but Morwen was in good spirits. Having watched the other girls struggle her way into the bar had been more than satisfying enough, and she figured Quinn deserved a little break. She took in a deep breath. “On pre-gaming, definitely.” She replied sarcastically. “Actually, you know, I think we got off to the wrong start the other day.” It had been the other girls fault, but Wen was willing to ignore that for now. Despite it all, Quinn had been right. It was smarter to be on good terms than it was for them to publicly feud. There would be an imaginary feud between them in the papers regardless, probably, and Morwen would prefer for there to be no actual ill-will between them.

“Tea at a bar? Don't tell me you've gone teetotal. Let me buy you a drink.” She offered. This was about as nice as Morwen was going to get, and she was really trying her best to bite her tongue. She was extending the olive branch, so to speak. She wondered how much longer Jane would be, and hoped she was at least a few minutes away. She wanted to get this drink out of the way so they could go back to ignoring each other.

“Quite a riot outside, huh? I saw you stuck in it on your way in. I've never seen one of those before, really.” She admitted, being a little talkative. She took a sip of her drink. That was when they announced the contest starting at the bar. A dancing contest. Morwen raised her brow. Who would be silly enough to dance on the bar? Actually, it sounded a bit like fun. Also it was a contest, which meant there was a winner, and that always spoke Morwen's language.

“I'm sure you're too good to enter a contest like that, eh?” She asked, leading into it. “I bet you five galleons that I'd beat you in it.”

That was probably as close to an apology as she was going to get, wasn't it? She decided to leave criticizing the drinking alone, knowing full well that she had no business encouraging good training practices, not to this woman who flew for the Harpies and for Wales. "I think so," she agreed, happy that she was coming around to her way of thinking. She didn't openly despise anyone off the pitch, preferring to save those sorts of feelings for the actual match and, with the exception of a few players, usually reserved her most intense aggression for the opposite Seeker.

"Tea at a bar," she reiterated, shrugging casually. "Training with Ireland later and I'm the designated flyer today." She smirked, not feeling like she really needed to explain her penchant for not drinking during the season. She was an athlete, her health wellbeing kept her employed, and she wasn't about to mar her success with a hangover. "Never mind that if you buy me a drink, I'll just owe you one, and I really doubt you're going to want to do this again." Not even just for the fact that they played for multiple rival teams, but who had time to meet up with people who weren't even grateful to be photographed with her?

The bartender goblin delivered her tea and she thanked him half heartedly, taking a tentative sip as Morwen continued talking. "I'm still not sure what the point of it all was." She shrugged again. Quinn had never been one for any activity where she wasn't the center of attention. Even if she understood the whole basis behind the flash mob, she wouldn't have wanted to join unless she could be guaranteed that all eyes were on her.

And almost as if the goblins behind the bar could read her thoughts, they were announcing a dance contest. On the bar. For nothing other than a tab worth a few galleons. It was almost tempting. That is, until her companion's thinking lined up with her own. "Five galleons?" Quinn arched a dark brow at the other woman. "Have some confidence in yourself, Rhydderch." The Chaser's talents clearly didn't lie on the pitch; surely they must be hidden somewhere else. "Make it ten."

She pushed her tea to the side, thanking herself for not wearing heels, not willing to injure herself in the process of proving a point. She lifted herself up onto the bar, light as a feather and nodded again to the woman below. "C'mon." Quinn was sure she was a better flyer than dancer, but she wasn't about to let that get in the way of beating her.

There was nothing like a competition to get Morwen's blood flowing, especially something she was certain she could do well in. Wen was a trained dancer, both in ballet and hip hop styles. She was confident in her ability to move better than the other girl. She shimmied up onto the bar, too. “Ten it is, then .” She smiled. She needed this win, after the cup and the other girl's jibes. She usually didn't feel such a strong desire to prove herself, though admittedly she often struggled with wanting to be the best at everything. The truth was, she wasn't used to not winning. As a dancer, she had almost always won first place. In school, the Gryffindor team had won the cup every year. She wasn't used to failure. This was her first real taste of it, and there was nothing she could do but hold her head up high and try to grab victory the next year. Runner up wasn't quite that bad, right?

The music began to blast, and Wen started moving. She let herself feel the music, trying to pretend she was in a club, listening to Beka play. He would pick a great song for her if they were having the competition somewhere he played at. He would make sure she won. As Beka certainly wasn't there, winning was just for Morwen to decide. She pulled out some special tricks, not feeling the least bit silly about where she was. The onlookers were lucky yo see her dance on the bar, really. They were lucky to see her dance. As much as she didn't love her present company, she had to admit that they were lucky to see Quinn dance, too. They made quite the pair dancing off against each other—both trying to prove something to the other.

Morwen only hoped that she could do more proving than Quinn today. She needed something sweet after the last bitter meeting. She was trying her best to be affable today, trying to cover up some of that bitterness, but deep down she was pretty sure she knew exactly who Quinn was, and pretty sure Quinn knew who Morwen was too.

Quinn honestly had no idea what she was doing. Dancing had never really been a thing that seemed like it required skill and so she had never tried her hand at it. At least, that's what she was telling herself. Her talents had always lied on the pitch and those acrobatics she could do on a broom certainly didn't translate well to a bartop in a goblin bar. She followed along with her competition as the music started, playing off the moves that Rhydderch was pulling.

But as much as she hated to admit it, she was being out-danced. Did this count as being hustled? She decided to save her eye rolling for later, when she wasn't needing to concentrate on not toppling off of the bar. Not only would that be an embarrassing thing to do in front of this woman, it would be nearly impossible to explain the reason behind her injury to other people, especially if she was supposed to be 'taking it easy'. Ugh, was her center of balance changing already? That could really be the only plausible reason she wasn't absolutely winning this.

She was, admittedly, the worse dancer. She vowed to claim that she had let Rhydderch win until proven otherwise, only taking pity on her performance in the Finals. She slowed her movements as the song came to an end, hands on hips as she pursed her lips, pulling out her reserved eyeroll as they announced the 'winner' of the contest. She was upset yet still in a rather alright mood, reassuring herself that she hadn't lost any real sort of contest. Still, she had lost, skill or not, and was properly sulking by the time she had reseated herself on her stool.

"We're going to have to find something neither of us are good at," Quinn said with a smirk, unable to come up with anything that fit that category nicely, "For a real competition." She sighed dramatically and pulled out her coin purse, pulling out galleon by galleon and stacking them up neatly on the bar. "Unless of course I can just fund your pre-training liquid lunch." She smirked again, though this time it was a bit closer to a sincere smile than anything else.