{and leave teardrops everywhere} gabby

He honestly wasn't expecting to stay at the party quite this long but he was definitely not sober enough to apparate home. The meade in his hand certainly wasn't going to assist on that front. He figured a nice walk to clear his head was in order anyway. Enough time to finish up his drink and contemplate his options. Plenty of time to brood, too, because the night had passed and no Orlaith. He wasn't entirely sure how to feel about that. He felt bad for feeling angry at her for it because he genuinely understood getting wrapped up and just having several important commitments on ones plate. He supposed he was frustrated because it had seemed that for a moment there everything had aligned perfectly. Maybe she just wasn't interested and this was her way of letting him down easy? Maybe she wanted something else from him? It was confusing because he just wasn't. sure if this was the type of thing he should push or not.

He could be stubborn about many things but pressuring someone to go out with him definitely wasn't one of them. (Oddly the most insistent he'd been about getting someones attention had been with Rod, funnily enough, but he didn't think it was possible to harass family, could you?)  There was something sort of dirty about it when your intentions were primarily self-serving, pestering girls like that. He supposed the best thing to do was to just... let it go for now, unless she called him out on it. He supposed he could ask her about it if he ever got the chance to. Ugh his brain was running in circles at this point he really just needed a- ....distraction.

The Slytherin paused, blue gaze flickering over the bloody gorgeous entity that stood a few paces before him, and he could very well feel his brain slowly giving up the fight to keep moving. His better sense told him to back away slowly, some kind of instinct that told him to run instead of moving forward. She was beautiful, and his brain was shooting so many warning signs at him. Merlin and Morgana he needed to keep it together. This wasn- fuck. He was really regretting polishing off that last beer, he thought idly, as his higher brain function finally caught up. Nothing quite that beautiful could be entirely human. He really wanted to touch that fine blond curtain of silvery moon-silk hair, though. Was this what it was like to be so at war with oneself? He usually had a lot better control of himself than this. At least he wasn't gapping and making a complete idiot of himself, though it still felt like he was a bit underwater. He didn't move, concerned he really would do something stupid if he did, but that meant staying when he should''ve retreated. "Want some company?" is what came out, and thank Merlin it sounded deep instead of squeaky.

@Gabrielle Delacour

Gabby didn’t really smoke — at least, not in her day to day life.

She was smoking now, though; She held a long, black cigarette between two fingers to the side, her other arm casually resting across her torso as she stared out at the dimly lit field. It was less of a smoking break as it was a countdown; Lottie and Steph were inside somewhere and if they weren’t ready to leave soon, then Gabby wasn’t going to wait for them. They had other people to meet up with, other places to go. The April break was too short for this nonsense. She took a slow drag of her cigarette, closing her eyes briefly.

Years ago, Gabby had attended a fashion show with her older sister in Milan. Afterward, a few blocks down, she’d spotted two girls (both models from the show) sharing a long, black cigarette in between kisses. The image had really stuck with her. Of course, she wasn’t gay or anything, but there was a very sexy, fuck-you sort of energy that the pair had had about them that had lingered in her mind, dirty alley or no. So when she was old enough, she’d taken up the habit. Just for parties, mostly; it was an aesthetic choice rather than an addiction after all.

She heard footsteps behind her, and turned to look. He wasn’t anyone she recognised. Gabby raised her eyebrows slightly, waiting for him to say something. When he did, she was quiet for a moment, considering it. Mostly she just wanted to make him wait. “Sure,” she said after a beat, a casual smile appearing on her lips. “Cigarette?” she asked, holding up her own one.

"Oui." he said automatically, brain moving on faster than he could process as he slipped quite easily into French. They way she'd called it a cigarette had sparked an automatic response in french faster than he could comfortably read the situation. He didn't really care for cigarettes usually but sometimes it was good to get his brain back down to working order. He probably liked the repetitive motions a lot more than the actual taste. He leaned forward instinctually, catching the offering between his lips before taking a long drag and stepping away. He let the air out slowly, bright blue eyes glued to the figure before him, as he tried to make sense of what exactly was happening. "Merci." he murmured, tilting his head back a bit in an effort to clear the cobwebs.

He really wanted to see if the sparkling silver waterfall that made up her hair was as soft as it looked, which was alarming, because he wasn't usually so easily reeled in by just looks. Her looks really were undeniable, though he was trying very hard to focus beyond just that incredible fact. "Beauxbatons's?" he asked curiously, tilting his head in a bit of a grin. He'd not miss anyone like her at Hogwarts which meant she had to go to a different school. The girls academy seemed the most plausible, all things considered, and her accent would fit in well there. There was another part of his brain that was sluggishly supplying thought now, which was pretty wonderful.

He liked being able to retain the skill of being able to think around a beautiful witch, no matter how striking the witch. The girl before him was quite striking, of course, in that ephemeral way that some girls had where they didn't quite seem real. It made him itch for the drawing pencil tucked safely away in his book. He knew he'd be tracing the cut of her cheekbones, and the plush lines of her lips as he tried to recreate her face on parchment. She just had one of those faces you wanted to draw, the type that would jump out of the paper and make people look.