Butterflies had erupted in the pit of her stomach, and suddenly Greer felt far more nervous now then even before the race. Swallowing a second time, her left hand shot up into her mouth as the man entered the room and began to make himself comfortable. One by one, the blonde began to chew hastily on the tips of her blood-red coloured nails. It tasted horrible, yes, but this was a coping mechanism for the sudden onslaught of anxious energy.
As his eyes moved about the room, Greer couldn’t help but notice how positively spotless his appearance was. Had he even been out on the track when she won? Probably not, as the distinct sparkle in his shoes suggested that they hadn’t just prodded around in the mud for the last hour or so… In comparison, the girl felt infinitely less kept and completely trashed. Greer wouldn’t normally have been so bothered by her sweat splattered, scratched up and dirty post-racing self, but this handsome individual seemed like the type to appreciate a well-maintained woman.
Or maybe he was gay.
Immediately, the girl’s bright greyish-green eyes narrowed and she pursed her lips curiously. It was rude to ask an individual their sexuality within the first few minutes of meeting them, wasn’t it? Definitely. And so she bit her tongue (she was learning!)
Pulling her hand from her mouth, she subtly dusted some of the dried mud from her riding pants and began to flatten her disorderly blonde locks, while simultaneously sitting a little straighter. Perhaps this would help her over-all first impression, even if by just a small fraction.
Without hesitation, the man sat down in the cushy cream-coloured, Victorian-looking seat directly across from her and pulled out the typical notepad and quill. He still hadn’t so much as cracked a smile towards her. As a matter of fact, the amount of disinterest in her was rather startling, something that Greer wasn’t entirely used to…
Definitely gay.
”Hello Miss. Lusk, I’m Emmitt Dawkins, Daily Prophet Reporter,” he introduced himself finally, in a very stoic fashion, and she felt her head tilt inadvertently to the side. Both of her eyebrows fell and her mouth stood open a fraction.
“How does it feel to be racing for the first time in almost two years?” Emmitt paused patiently and looked between her and the empty paper. Was this for real? This was probably the most professional interview that had ever been conducted with Greer, and she immediately hated it. Blinking a few times, Greer pursed her lips and shook her head.
“No,” she muttered and cleared her throat, “nope, I don’t like this one bit. Emmitt Dawkins, I know we’ve never met before, but this isn’t really how I like to conduct interviews. It feels very… impersonal. I’ll answer this one, but the next question you have to at least crack a smile or something.
Racing for the first time in almost two years was refreshing. I mean, it feels like I never really stopped flying, but I guess I’ve been out of the limelight for a while so most other people might think it’s a bigger deal than it actually is. I kind of can’t believe that I won 1st…” Pausing for a moment, Greer looked down at the bright blue ribbon fondly before glancing back up at Emmitt.
“Be honest with me, Emmitt, you’d rather be at a Quidditch match, wouldn’t you?”
