[falmouth] we'll all float on [elias]

march 2001

Even Quinn had friends outside of the world of quidditch. She somewhat preferred them, actually, as the professional quidditch friends she did have all liked to get together and compare their own accomplishments and there was never enough time to focus on Quinn and why she was so great. So, when Elias Dörfler had sent his congratulations for her win against Pride of Portree in the form of flowers and a card, Quinn had jumped on the opportunity to see him so that they could catch up and, more importantly, get to talk about herself.

Instead of choosing to go out anywhere, the Irish woman had invited her friend to her house in Falmouth. She had successfully caught the snitch in her last match and as much as she loved the attention she was receiving when she frequented her favorite places, she wanted a relatively quiet night at home. With food and drinks and plenty of praise, of course. She had cleaned her home as much as possible, and her living room almost looked like an organized person lived there. Still, it was obvious that Quinn had a few odd collections and eccentric tastes and tended to hold onto things instead of getting rid of them.

But, the scents wafting from the small kitchen should more than make up for her interior decorating tastes. She had spent the afternoon making a tomato sauce from scratch; she could have saved herself so much time by cooking with magic, but the smell of cooking onions and garlic was more than enough reason to take her time simmering everything down together. She'd prepare the spaghetti noodles and garlic bread a bit more magically once Elias was ready to eat.

She was just checking on the large pot of sauce when she heard a knock at the door. "It's open!" she called, only one room away. Quinn quickly wiped her hands on the closest towel, took a swig from her nearby glass of wine, and straightened out her sweater. She twirled around to grab the bottle of wine off the kitchen table and flicked her wand at her half-empty glass and a fresh one so that they would follow her out of the room as she moved to intercept her guest.

@Elias Dörfler

Elias had read the Daily Prophet's coverage of the Falmouth Falcons' most recent match as he walked back from the coffee cart to his office and had nearly spilled his morning brew down the front of his robes when he stopped in his tracks and was bumped into by the wizard behind him. He had always followed the British league as well as the Germanic, but ever since befriending Quinn Regan he had given more careful attention to the Falcons' record. He had stared at the final score for a few seconds before he could believe it: Quinn had caught the snitch and won the match against the Pride of Portree, one of the top teams in the league.

By the time he had rushed back to his office, however, he was telling himself that he had always known that Quinn would win and had never doubted her skill in the first place. A quick order was filled out and sent with one of the Ministry's owls immediately, and he had received a confirmation the next day that the large bouquet and congratulations note he had sent to Quinn had been delivered successfully. He was happy to spoil his friends and family and never missed an opportunity to practice the proper etiquette he had learned from childhood.

Quinn had extended a dinner invitation a few days later and he had happily accepted, more pleased than he would ever admit to himself that he was friends with a famous quidditch player. He enjoyed Quinn's friendship in of itself, but it was a bit satisfying to casually drop her name in conversation and see the impressed looks on other's faces. On Saturday evening, Elias had checked his hair carefully in the mirror by the door before grabbing the bottle of red wine he had set out on the table and disapparating. He appeared on her front step in Falmouth and inhaled the fresh sea air before knocking on the seeker's door.

He opened it slowly when he heard her call from inside, and poked his head in to check that she really had intended for him to let himself in before he stepped in the rest of the way. The delicious scent of a caramelizing tomato sauce hit his nose and he smiled appreciatively, glad that he had chosen a bottle of red. He stepped inside and carefully wiped his shoes on the mat before turning to greet Quinn, who had come out of the kitchen to meet him. Two glasses were trailing behind her, one already half-filled with red wine. He was a bit disappointed that his show of hospitality might not be useful after all, but flowers had hardly been an option when he had already sent a bouquet earlier in the week.

"Congratulations again," he told her warmly, presenting the bottle as best he could despite its superfluity. "I see you've already opened a bottle, but I suppose one can never have too much wine." Once she took the bottle, he removed his cloak and draped it carefully over his arm so that it wouldn't wrinkle. He had never been to Quinn's home before -- the two usually met up in pubs in London or further south -- and he was amused at her eccentric decorating style. It was a bit cluttered for his taste, but he could see that it fit her well. "You have a lovely home," he offered obligingly, fully aware that as a guest he was required to pay his host the appropriate compliments. He felt sure Quinn wouldn't mind. "Dinner smells delicious. Thank you very much for the invitation!"

Quinn beamed as she saw him; she really did enjoy her collection of friends from all over. This particular one was German, and the German accent was ranked third on her list of favorite accents, behind Swedish and Portuguese. Her grin widened as he spoke, enjoying his accent almost too much to here the much deserved praise come her way. "Ooh thank you," she cooed, mostly in thanks to the congratulations but also to the bottle of wine. She took the bottle from him and tucked it under the arm that was holding the open bottle. "Now we don't have to pace ourselves." She laughed, glad that she had planned this dinner on a night before a morning she didn't have to train at dawn.

"There's coat hooks right there," she motioned as best as she could to the series of mismatched hooks on the wall next to the front door with hands full of wand and wine. She moved around a couple squishy arm chairs to set the wine bottles down on the least crowded table in the room, the wine glasses still following her around. She plucked her own glass out of the air and took another sip as she directed the empty one to Elias. "Please, help yourself." Keeping her glass in hand, Quinn plopped down in the squishiest arm chair, pulling her legs up under her. "Oh, thanks!" she grinned again, quite pleased with her interior design abilities. She knew it wasn't everyone's taste, but it was hers, which meant it was the best.

She motioned to one of the many remaining seating options; if there was one certain thing about this room, it was that there was no shortage of comfy places to settle down. "Make yourself comfortable," she offered, as if there was any other option in this house. It oozed that homey, cozy quality that she had grown accustomed to growing up. "I'm making spaghetti, I hope that's okay." It seemed to be the best option to offer as dinner to a guest she had never cooked for. It was hard to find someone who didn't like a dinner as generic as spaghetti, especially not when it was made by her.

"And the flowers were gorgeous," she added, hoping she wasn't too late with her thanks. Being appreciative of others' efforts was something she was trying to work on, if only to earn her more appreciation in return. The seeker was at least being sincere about how beautiful the flowers were, which only made sense because flowers were always supposed to reflect the recipient, right? They were currently gracing her kitchen table and they had been thriving on all the afternoon sun the kitchen received.

She didn't wait for him to sit before launching into questions. "Did you get to see the match?" It was her best one yet this season and she was going to be slightly disappointed (but she wouldn't mind) if she needed to recount everything for him. "And the Cannons beat Puddlemere," she added as an afterthought with a bit too much excitement, though who was she to talk? The Falcon's had lost to the same team just a month ago. But that didn't matter now.

Quinn took the bottle from his hands and he laughed lightly at her joke. He'd been so busy with work lately, that he hadn't had a nice night to just relax and drink with a friend in a while. He could tell that his compliments had been well-received, and Elias turned, satisfied, to hang his cloak on the hooks that Quinn had indicated. He was slightly amused as he took in their mismatched appearance, but chose one shaped like a cat holding out its paw and carefully draped the dark and heavy fabric over it. When he turned back around, she had already started leading him into her comfortably overcrowded sitting room. He wiped his feet carefully on the mat before following her, taking hold of the wine glass that was still floating by the front door, politely waiting for the moment that he would be ready to retrieve it.

He maneuvered his way through the odd collection of furniture that made up the room and, upon her invitation, eventually sat himself down on the small love seat that was positioned next to the armchair Quinn was occupying. He had to rearrange the large collection of mismatched and colorful pillows on the sofa in order to get comfortable. He reached over and picked up the already-opened bottle of wine that Quinn had just set down and poured a glass for himself, his eyes taking in the collection of porcelain cats that were ornamenting the small table. Taking care not to knock one over when he replaced the bottle, he then leaned back into the cushion and smiled at his friend's thanks; he knew Quinn loved to have her accomplishments recognized, and it had been no real trouble to send the flowers. He was slightly disappointed that he didn't immediately spot the flowers in the room, but he supposed they must be stationed somewhere else in her house. It was hard to imagine his friend hiding such an obvious symbol of achievement from her friends.

"I'm afraid I missed it," he responded, the appropriate amount of polite regret in his tone. He rolled his eyes slightly at her comment about Puddlemere's defeat. That one he knew about; even if he didn't follow his roommate's matches religiously, there is no way Oliver's behavior following a match would ever fail to alert him to the outcome. "You'll just have to give me the recap. From the article I read, it seems your catch was particularly spectacular."

Lifting his glass, he looked Quinn carefully in the eye before uttering the traditional "Prost," and taking a sip of wine. It was rich and warm on his tongue, and he relaxed into the sofa, getting comfortable for what he was sure would be a highly-detailed account of Quinn's own performance in her most recent match.

"Ooh, it really was spectacular," Quinn replied with a genuine smile, quite pleased that she could continue talking about herself for at least a little while longer. It was no easy feat coming up with so many wonderful things about herself to talk about, but somehow she would manage. "Well, you may have noticed we aren't exactly having a perfect season." She took a large gulp of wine as she contemplated their near bottom league standing. "But we've been doing a few extra hours of practice every day since then, and actually today and tomorrow are the first days off I've had in a while," she digressed, but it really was all very important to the overall story.

But anyway. "We were having an incredible match, really." She had previously been blaming the chasers for all of their previous losses, even when she was the one that had missed the snitch. "We were already up by twenty points when I made my catch, though that was really close. That cow nearly knocked me off of my broom." Portree's seeker was not portly by any means, but Quinn was not about to give her the benefit of the doubt. "We did this great side-by-side dive and then the snitch suddenly changed directions and my reflexes were just that much better." She nodded, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I think she cried," Quinn added with a shrug, really not caring about her opponent's feelings. None of the members of that team were on the Irish National team either, so she really didn't have to be friendly to them, ever. She laughed at both the thought of the crying seeker and Elias raising his glass with his ever so serious "Prost." She returned the serious look, but said "Sláinte," with a definitely lilt to her voice before draining her glass.

She set her glass on the table, deciding to wait at least ten minutes after her guest's arrival before getting too inebriated. One glass of wine was already getting to her, and she could feel her cheeks warm up with every passing moment. "I can't remember when I saw you last," Quinn said, resettling herself in her chair, a sincere look of sadness on her face. "So it has definitely been too long. You have to tell me what you've been up to while you haven't been attending my matches," she jabbed, but she was smiling. "You know I could get you good seats if you ever actually did want to see one, right?" She hadn't yet given him the chance to answer his question, but there were more important things at hand. "We have next week off, but we play at home the week after that, if you feel like coming back to Falmouth." And who wouldn't want to? This was a lovely place.

He could tell he had done the right thing by asking Quinn to recount her performance for him. He'd read a summary of what had happened in the Daily Prophet, but he knew she would be excited to give him her own account. He looked impressed and chuckled at all the right moments as she talked, enjoying her recount of the events. It was interesting to have an inside perspective of the game. "I wish I could have been there. But I'm sure it was spectacular," he offered, grinning at her as she laughed at the memory of the catch.

Quinn properly returned Elias' traditional gaze before downing her glass of wine. She hadn't been kidding about not pacing themselves. With a laugh, he knocked back the rest of his wine, too. It was hardly the most pleasant beverage to chug, but he had survived yet another stressful week at work, Quinn had won her match, and they were seeing one another for the first time in a while. Might as well celebrate when they had wine to spare. The heavy liquid burned the back of his throat and nose a bit, but he reached over to pick up the open bottle off the table again and generously refilled both of their glasses, starting with Quinn's on the table and then matching the pour in his own.

His friend was already ahead of him by a drink, so he went ahead and kept sipping his wine even though she hadn't yet picked her glass back up. He nodded along, appreciating the dramatic sadness in her tone. Quinn knew how to make him feel appreciated, that was for sure. The two had a good thing going. "Honestly, I think it's been months," he mused, trying to remember the last time they had actually gotten together. Quinn was moving on, though, and he grinned at her suggestion. "I'd love to come to a match. I don't get to see enough quidditch, and I definitely don't see enough of you."

He sighed at her suggestion of coming in just two short weeks. "I'll have to see about your upcoming match, though. Work has been an absolute madhouse. It's no wonder we haven't seen each other in ages." Just thinking briefly about how stressful things at the Ministry had been over the past few months gave him an uncomfortably tight feeling in his chest, so he drained the rest of his glass, hoping he'd start feeling the buzz soon.

"I'm sorry I've been so absent," he said sincerely as he set his glass down on the table. "I've just been incredibly busy -- it's been a fair amount of back and forth between Berlin and London. And I moved apartments just before Christmas, wanted something a bit more central. I have barely had a moment to breathe since September." The summary of the past few months left out a few glaring details, including the big family news at Christmas as well as the fact that he was now living with a rival team's keeper. But he knew Quinn well enough by now to recognize that it would be better to keep things light, and he hardly wanted a lecture on his choice of roommate. He was much more in the mood for a stress-free evening.

He grabbed the bottle and poured another refill, glad to feel the warmth in his stomach and chest that meant the wine was starting to work its magic. The smells coming from the kitchen were incredible, and he hoped they would be eating soon. "So, what have you been cooking? Is there anything I can help with?" His offer was genuine, but he hoped it would also remind her of the food she had been preparing for them. Once he'd eaten a proper meal, it would feel a bit classier to be drinking all of this wine.

Quinn waved a hand in front of her, figuring out that he probably wasn't going to make it to a match any time soon. "Seriously any match, just let me know and I'll get you good seat," she added with a nod, hoping that would be open-ended enough that he couldn't help but agree. "Apology accepted," she said with a laugh. She wanted to keep the mood light; he didn't need to tell her twice that the Ministry was busy these days. Her favorite brother worked there, was heavily involved with the dome, not to mention that her three youngest siblings were all there. They were all fine, of course, or Quinn probably wouldn't be in the mood for such a dinner.

So instead, she decided to focus on his bit about moving apartments. "Ooh, I'll have to come see it sometime! Especially now that you've seen my home," she made a grand gesture with her hands, letting him take in all the glory of the room. "And thanks so much for taking time out of your busy schedule to see me," she chided him jokingly, finally picking up the glass of wine she had been eyeing for the past five minutes.

She smiled as Elias refilled his glass again, thrilled that she was such a good hostess to have a guest enjoying himself so much in such a short amount of time. "Pasta sauce," she said, inhaling the garlicy aroma. "I was planning on spaghetti, if that's okay. And I was planning on spaghetti even it that isn't okay." She moved to get up, her wine glass in one hand, grabbing the open bottle with the other. "It won't take more than a couple minutes to have everything ready to go," she said over her shoulder as she walked to the adjoining kitchen.

"You don't have to do a thing, though, so just have a seat." She motioned to the obvious table and chairs in the room, the flowers she had received from Elias right in the middle. Quinn set to work immediately, keeping her wine glass in her left hand but replacing the bottle with her wand in the other. With a few swishes of her wand, a large pot of water was boiling, then the dry spaghetti was added to it. A bit more wandwork and the loaf of crusty white bread was buttering, garlicking, and seasoning itself. The smell of the loaf cooking itself filled the room, only adding to the slightly sweet and acidic smell of the sauce.

The pot of noodles drained itself, tomato sauce spooned over the noodles, and the finished garlic bread was thickly sliced. All in all, it took about two minutes, and she even had a chance to finish half her glass of wine. "Ready," she said rather obviously, turning to her friend. "Bowls," she had two big, white bowls lift themselves off a shelf, "Utensils," forks and spoons laid themselves out on the table. She used her wand once more to dish up the noodles and set the bowls on the table, one in front of Elias and one across from him.

She took her seat, happily digging in to the dinner. The wine had been tricking her into thinking she wasn't hungry, but she was starting to realize just how wrong she was.

Elias smiled at her open invitation; it felt good knowing that she wanted him to come. It had been quite a while since he'd seen her team play, and he would love the experience of greeting her after a spectacular win. "I promise I will do my best to come as soon as I can," he told her, grinning but still conveying the seriousness of his promise. He would have to be sure it wasn't a match against Puddlemere, though. He would hate to choose between his friend and his roommate. He laughed at her suggestion of coming over to see his apartment, though he supposed she would have to find out eventually who he was living with. It would only be the polite thing to do to have her over, now that she had hosted him. "Absolutely," he agreed, but she was distracted now by her wine glass and he decided to leave the topic at that for now.

"That sounds wonderful," he replied graciously. Elias was not one to complain when offered a meal anyway, regardless of the dish, but who could say no to pasta? He stood up as Quinn moved into the kitchen, being sure to replace the pile of pillows he had moved earlier on and grabbing the second bottle of wine. He had to blink for a moment to find his balance before he could walk, the wine delaying his senses just a tad, but followed her into the kitchen after a short moment. Quinn turned down his offer for help, instead motioning him toward the table that held the flowers he had sent. It really did seem like she had the situation under control, but he hated to sit there, idle and useless, so he took the opportunity to rearrange the blooms more symmetrically in the vase and to uncork the second bottle to give it time to breathe. Just in case.

Next moment, Quinn had set two steaming bowls of pasta on the table in front of them along with a freshly toasted loaf of garlic bread, and he felt his stomach grumble. Smiling up at her appreciatively, he toasted the meal with the traditional "Guten Appetit!" before beginning. His first bites reminded him of how hungry he was, and he did his best not to eat at a pace that was too quick to be polite. He finished eating sooner than he might have hoped, but decided that he could fill the remaining space in his stomach with more wine. "That was delicious, Quinn. You are quite the cook!" He grinned as he lifted his wine glass once more, the heavy food and wine making him more relaxed than he had been in weeks.

As he set his glass down on the table, he realized that Quinn's glass was empty again. "More wine?" He asked, indicating the second bottle that was waiting for them on the table. "Or would you prefer a digestif?" He was in no mood to stop drinking, not now that he had the chance to focus on something other than the ever-growing list of stressful things in his life. Quinn was a good friend to have around for times like these, he thought.

"So, besides flying, what have you been up to these days? Or is it all-quidditch-all-the-time?"

Quinn was not far behind Elias in finishing her own bowl of pasta but had somehow managed to finish her wine first. "Why thank you," Quinn said as she beamed, fully aware she was a good cook but it was always nice to hear the compliment. "I'm glad you liked it," she added with another smile, because honestly how could he not? She picked up her wand again, moving the used bowls and utensils to the sink behind her to soak. She didn't very much want to deal with those right now, not when there was the offer of more wine. She pushed her empty wine glass towards her guest as he offered her more, adding a quick "Please," as she did so.

"Ooh," she said, pausing with her fingers still on her glass. "If by 'digestif' you mean 'hard liquor' then yes. I think I would," the seeker said with a grin. She didn't have training until very late tomorrow so she would have all day to recover before then. Plus, the wine she had already had was convincing her that whisky would be a really good idea. "But you just opened that bottle and it would be a shame to waste it." She released her glass to him eagerly, laughing as she got up to grab some options for then while he refilled her glass.

She crossed the room to rummage through a low cabinet, full of bottles upon bottles of different sorts of alcohol. "I get so many things as gifts," she said as she reached her arm back among the bottles to find the exact whisky she was looking for. "But with all the training I hardly ever get a chance to drink anything." She found a bottle of Irish whisky and maneuvered it out from the cabinet before diving back in to see what other options she had. There were too many things to choose from though, so instead of asking Elias what he wanted to drink, she decided he would be perfectly fine drinking the same whisky she did.

Quinn resumed her spot at the table, bottle of whisky in hand, and after one more move of her wand, there were two mismatched, short tumbler glass in front of them. She pulled open the bottle, filling both of their glasses with more than their fair share of whisky. "Hope you wanted it neat," she said, depositing the bottle in the middle between them and taking her glass in hand, raising it slightly before taking a larger swallow of the alcohol than she had bargained for.

She giggled, setting her glass down, feeling the warmth from her mouth and throat spread outwards to the rest of her face. It was a good whisky, but she really knew nothing about what made a whisky good in the first place. "What were you asking?" He had asked her something but she had been much too distracted by the alcohol to pay any attention. It was most likely a question about herself, of course, but at some point in the evening drinking had become her number one priority.

"Oh, right." Quidditch, that's what it was about. "All quidditch all the time." She nodded, half smiling. The witch really did love her job, but it left a lot to be desired in the way of free time, especially during the season. And now that she was on the main team for Ireland, what little time she had before had somehow managed to float away. "I love it but I really want to see people outside of quidditch sometimes, you know?" Like her family, or anyone that wasn't her teammate. It had basically been since New Year's since she had really had any one-on-one time with anyone not quidditch-related, which is probably why she didn't mind telling all of this to her friend now.

She took another drink from her glass, finding it much easier this time. Quinn was pretty sure she didn't want to know about Elias's work, mostly because she found most ministry work rather dull, even though both her brother and father also worked there. "You play in a friendly's league, right? How is that going?"

It seemed they were on the same page about where this night should be heading, and he refilled her wine glass as soon as she slid it toward him across the table. Quinn had stood up immediately at his suggestion, and he was glad that she seemed agreeable to the idea. She was certainly being a gracious host already, and opening her liquor cabinet for the two of them to indulge themselves was just about as gracious as it could get, at least by Elias' book. He laughed lightly at her complaint about getting alcohol too often as a present, and decided that this would be the last time he would get her something so predictable as a bottle of wine. Surely he could come up with something more personal for gifts in the future.

She returned with a bottle of Irish whiskey. Elias didn't know much about the drink, to be honest, but he had no complaints. So far, Quinn had proven that she had good taste. He took the glass she handed him with an enthusiastic thanks and tossed back some of the liquid. It burned his throat, but the flavor was rich and he was surprised to find that he quite liked it. He took another sip, smaller this time, as he listened to her laugh and explain about her busy quidditch schedule. He nodded sympathetically as she mentioned wanting a wider social circle. "I bet your family misses having you around," he suggested. "I know it's hard for me to be so far from them." He didn't know how close Quinn was with her family, really, but he imagined it must be difficult to have scheduled commitments all the time. At least he could take his work with him, if he really needed to. Thinking about the life waiting back for him in Germany brought back a bit of the anxiety that he had successfully been avoiding this evening, though, so he finished the whiskey she had poured him and set his glass on the table. The warmth had spread to his fingers and toes now, and he could feel his cheeks going slightly pink beneath his stubble.

"It's going very well," he responded enthusiastically to her question about his own quidditch playing. This was an easier subject for him, to be sure. "Obviously we're not even close to the level of playing you're at. But the best part of it is the social aspect!" He emphasized the word 'social' in the hope that Quinn would recognize that he was a part of the league for the fun and the competition and the stress-relief, not so that he could play on a professional level. He hated to think of her comparing their playing level. "That's what makes it so much fun. You need that!" He added suddenly, trying to speak at a normal volume but addressing her a bit more loudly and enthusiastically than was strictly necessary. "You have to find people to go do other things with, or you'll get too stressed. You have to have balance in your life, because, otherwise, how will you be fresh for quidditch?" This all sounded pretty logical, and he nodded wisely at her as he lifted the wine glass that he had refilled earlier to his lips, and took another long sip. "Trust me. I know. Because I do it the opposite way." It made sense in his head, anyway. "Trust me," he repeated, grinning at her as if he'd just bested her in some great logical debate.

He was enjoying the feeling of providing this great help to his friend, and clung to the subject even if it wasn't making perfect sense. "I'm going to find you something to do," he proclaimed. And then, an idea struck him. He was already feeling quite clever at this point, and this idea really was going to be the best one he had all evening. She didn't need something -- she needed someone. Why hadn't he thought of this before? Clearly, he needed to drink more often, if he was going to come up with great plans like this. "I know what you need," he told her, very serious now. "I have the perfect plan for you." Elias grinned over his wine glass at her, excited that he was holding out on her, hoping to catch her interest with the mystery.

Oh yes, her family missed her and she missed them. She and her favorite brother were finally living in the same country but still only managed to see each other every few weeks for dinner, and having a relationship through post was no where near as good as being able to spend time with them in person. And she had only been able to go to Dublin for a couple days, never in a row, during February when the rest of her siblings were home from school, all because of quidditch. But thinking about what little time she was spending with them would only upset her, and she wasn't about to do that in front of a guest.

Instead of saying anything in response to the comment about her family, Quinn only shrugged and took another drink, letting out a long sigh when she replaced her glass on the table. At least they had whisky. That was a good replacement for family for the time being.

She was happy to get back on the topic of quidditch, even if they were no longer talking about her and her accomplishments. Quinn grinned, agreeing with him silently when he said they were no where near to being as good as she was; well, obviously. But seeing as he was still a guest in her house, she didn't really need to spell that out for him. Plus, he clearly knew it. "I do need that!" Quinn matched her volume to his, nodding even though she thought she was already an extremely fun person.

There was no hope for Quinn to be able to follow his logic, so she just sipped as he spoke, nodding when it seemed like she should. She needed to balance out quidditch with fun, apparently, because he balanced fun with quidditch? She was nearly certain that a lack of fun in her life wasn't the reason she had slipped a little during the season, plus wasn't last week's match proof enough that she was still doing great? "I trust you," Quinn found herself saying after throwing back what whisky was left in her glass. She didn't actually trust him, but apparently the whisky did.

"You can't just say you have the perfect plan and then not tell me what the perfect plan is," Quinn raised her eyebrows, her eyes wide, a grin on her face. While she doubted that he did actually have the perfect plan, she was incredibly curious to know what he was thinking. He was probably going to tell her to find a hobby to pick up, like knitting or organizing, or get her to join a non-competitive quidditch team. She wouldn't mind showing amateurs how it was done, but she definitely didn't have enough free time in her quidditch schedule for more quidditch, despite how agreeable she was becoming with all the alcohol.

She didn't remember draining her glass of whisky, looking a bit puzzled as she realized it. She grabbed the bottle and poured herself some more before giving Elias another pleading look. "Seriously, tell me," she asked again, this time refilling Elias's glass.

Quinn was nodding along enthusiastically as he spoke, and he felt his confidence growing with her affirmation. Why shouldn't she trust him? He had proven already that he was a good friend: the flowers, the wine, the fun evening they were having. He prided himself on his ability to see what other people had to offer, and he could see that Quinn's passion, humor, and good looks were not being used to their full potential. If she would just spend a bit more time and energy on something other than quidditch, her social life could really bloom. And he was going to be there to help.

"I have the perfect plan for solving your balance dilemma," he hinted. Elias could see her mind racing, trying to guess what he was going to suggest, but he had a feeling she wasn't going to be expecting this. She refilled his whiskey glass again, so he set down the wine and turned back to the harder drink, in no hurry at all to unveil his master plan. Besides, it might be easier to get her to agree if she kept drinking the stronger stuff. She seemed already eager to hear his plan, though, so he grinned and knocked back the drink before looking at her intently.

"I am going to set you up," he told her. The way he said it made it clear that it was not a suggestion so much as an announcement; he had already picked out the perfect guy for her and he wasn't intending to take no for an answer. "And you are going to love it," he added, winking at her mischievously. She could try to argue, but Elias had his determination and complete confidence on his side. He had half a mind to send a letter to his roommate to let him know that the evening was scheduled now before Quinn could even waste time trying to debate the subject. As far as Elias was concerned, it was decided.

"Now, don't forget you've already told me you trust me," he reminded her, grinning again. The alcohol was erasing all his worries and insecurities, at least for now, and he was relishing the feelings of freedom, laziness, and contentedness. He was enjoying his newfound role as matchmaker, a new combination of bossiness and caretaking that he had not explored before. "Don't spoil my fun by trying to argue." And with that, he raised his glass again, waiting for her to match him. If they drunk on it, the deal was sealed -- at least in his book.

Her balance dilemma? Apparently she had already forgotten what they were talking about; she knew she didn't have a balance problem. It had been years since she had fallen off her broom, and that was only when she was knocked unconscious during a match, which had nothing to do with her balance, thank you very much. Still, Quinn was very eager to find out what his brilliant plan was for fixing her dilemma all the same as he seemed to think he had a rather clever idea.

She drank when Elias did, not wanting to have to plead to hear the idea anymore. If it was such a good idea, he'd tell her eventually. And eventually came quickly, but the idea that came with it was not what she was expecting. Not at all. "You're going to set me up?" Set her up how? With a man? Did he even know what she wanted? He hadn't even tried to make a move on her, ever, so really, just how good was his judgement on people?

But, he was German, and surely he had more than one eligible German friend. And those foreigners were always so much more appealing than anyone she had found so far on this miserable, damp island. Maybe that wasn't an actually bad idea. But of course, she wasn't going to give into the idea just that easily. "And I'm going to love it? That's rich," she laughed as he winked at her. She gulped at her whisky again, her entire face warm by now. The woman would most certainly be spilling the contents of her glass everywhere as she put it down if she hadn't just drank everything.

Quinn grabbed at the bottle again, tilting it into her glass, not taking her eyes off of it as she continued talking. "You know, I do not remember saying that I trust you." She grinned, setting the bottle down and picking up her glass again. "In fact," she took a sip, not remembering whisky tasting this good before, "I think you must have made that part up." She laughed, pretty sure that she actually had said that she trusted him, but she wasn't about to admit that.

She nodded along, raising her glass as he did so. She took another big swallow, not bothering to set her glass back on the table because she knew she would be needing it again momentarily. "So," she started, trying to stifle a laugh at how confident he had become after proposing his idea, "If I can't argue with you, you have to at least tell me something about him." Quinn knew what she wanted to hear: tall, dark, handsome, knew when to shut up, the basics that were hard to come by in Falmouth.

The seeker was nearly sure she hadn't actually agreed to anything yet, but had started realizing she also hadn't disagreed. Surely there would be plenty of time to get out of the whole thing later.

Elias let out a little laugh as he watched her internally struggle with his suggestion. He could tell that she resented the idea that she needed his help a bit, but she looked intrigued, too. He simply gave her a little smile in response to her questions, not offering anything as she talked at him. He was going to just let her work through her emotions, hold out a bit longer to see if he could get her interested. Now that he was sure that he had a great idea, he knew he had to play it right.

The seeker matched his silent toast and drank with him, and he grinned at her as he set his glass down again. This was going splendidly. She wasn't arguing, at least not much, so he plowed ahead. "Alright, I'll give you something," he agreed. He leaned back in his chair and stroked his beard, a caricature of deep thought. He couldn't actually tell her who she was going to be meeting, he knew that much. She would never agree to date a rival player, not given how competitive she was.

"This is all you need to know," he began. There was a mischievous smirk on his face as he paused for a moment, enjoying the drama and suspense. "When he walks in, you'll know immediately. You can get there early, and then when he enters, it'll be clear that he is the one I picked for you." Quinn could make of that what she wanted. He hoped she would interpret that to mean that her date would be extraordinarily handsome and exactly right for her, and not that his picture appeared in the paper nearly as often as hers did.

He sat up again rather suddenly, wanting to maintain control of the conversation and not give her a chance to object or ask more dangerous questions. "Now," he told her seriously, "as soon as I get home, I will set everything up. You won't need to do a thing, just show up looking incredible, and I promise, you'll have an exciting night. That won't be too hard to accomplish, will it?" He grinned at her slightly pink face. He knew it was from the drink, not his comment on her appearance, but he felt confident that any hesitation she might still have could be overcome by another drink and the right dose of compliments. He couldn't wait to tell Oliver.

Quinn nodded fervently as Elias finally agreed to give her any sort of information about the setup she had yet to disagree to. But as he seemed to be taking his precious time thinking it over, stroking his beard, clearly just now coming up with a person to fit his wonderful idea. She was really tempted to throw the remains of her glass of whisky at him, but she would rather not waste any of that liquid on anyone but herself.

She leaned in as he finally said something, only to pause again, surely just to get a rise out of her. She drummed the fingers of her free hand against the table top, doing her best not to snap at him and give him the satisfaction he was apparently searching for. "I'll know immediately?" Quinn raised an eyebrow suspiciously, halfway between still wanting to throw something at him and wanting to pry whatever information she could from him. Somehow she didn't think she could do both.

Instead she did neither, apparently deciding that she trusted his judgement, once again reminding herself of all his inevitably German friends he could be setting her up with. She was on the verge of asking for at least a name so that she would know how to find him, in case the sort of man she was picturing was far off from whatever he was actually sending her. But Elias had other plans, suddenly sitting up and looking at her much more seriously than he had the rest of the evening.

"That'll be easy," Quinn said quickly, grinning and acknowledging the 'look incredible' part more than the 'exciting night' part of his request. She was still incredibly doubtful that she would be getting any sort of enjoyment out of her forthcoming evening, but she had to admit that she was intrigued. Even if she had a terrible evening, at least her mystery date would have a great story to tell his buddies about his wonderful night with Quinn Regan. Agreeing would really be the least she could do.

But she also didn't want to seem too eager. She spoke up as the clock starting chiming faintly from the next room, but she paid no mind to how late it suddenly was. "And are you just going to tell him that he'll know me immediately?" Quinn raised an eyebrow again, curious to know how he was planning to sell this to the other party involved. Sure, he'd probably just tell him who he was being set up with and be done with it.

"And you better tell him to look incredible, too, the next time you see him.., at work?" She finished with a question, trying to get some sort of clue as to where he knew this guy from, though at this point she would also settle from him just pouring her another glass of whisky.