way up in the clouds [maisie]

"Great," Maisie agreed with a nod of her head and a bright smile. She needed some time off and spending hours on a mountain, in the middle of nowhere with a packed lunch and a flask of coffee seemed like a soothing balm to her soul. At Circenn's nex offer, she blinked. "Perfect," she smiled again. "It'll save on the postage," she joked warmly, finding herself looking increasingly more and more forward to spending time with him.

But at least he was laughing. She liked the sound, she realised. Circenn was already handsome but looked downright godlike as his face lit up and Maisie found herself staring at him for perhaps a second or two too long than was deemed polite. "That's me," she replied with a dimpled grin. Being called a mystery was rather exciting. It conjured up visions of a sexy, confident young woman in red lipstick and nothing at all like the actual Maisie who was so nervous all the time, she burst into tears when she dropped her tray in the Ministry canteen and someone asked if she was okay.

He was staring at her after her accidental outburst and she looked right back, biting on her lower lip. It was a slip of the tongue but she didn't know whether or not she should be pleased or worried that he'd recognised the undertone. Maisie was sure thousands of women had a wayward crush on Circenn. It wasn't his looks but his gentleness and humour that had her hurtling towards a fully fledged fancy and alarming speed.

"Oh good," came the reply with a tinkling laugh, any residual awkwardness quickly fading and her smile spread before she scoffed. "Stuck? As if," she grinned. "Thank you for letting me work with you," she corrected Circenn quickly and gently. He'd ordered a black coffee and it made perfect sense.

Maisie wasn't expecting Circenn to react to her touch, much less than placing her hands on top to create a hand sandwich. However, it put her instantly at ease and she let out a little sigh of relief. Touch had the tendency to ground her. "Thank you," the brunette stated softly and she meant it. She had a lot riding on this but so did Circenn - his team, his fans, his reputation - it was all quite a lot. Maisie had the sudden urge to hug him but she just about managed to refrain.

"Okay," Maisie began as she took a quick, fortifying breath. She was aware that she was basically holding hands with an international Quidditch star but she had no desire to move it. Instead, she simply decided to write with her non-dominant hand. "The venue is sorted, so that's one major tick for us," she began as she struggled to open her file with her right hand. "I think the main attraction is going to be an opportunity to get up close and interact with you, your team and other players. My little cousin is going to lose his mind when he finds out you'll be there," she laughed.

"So we'll need to find out who actually wants to attend," she flicked her eyes up to Circenn's. "Give me a list of players and coaches and I'll send out letters, then we can work on putting something into the Prophet to drum up some interest." She smiled. "I want you to be as involved as you like so if you feel like I'm steamrolling you, please tell me to pack it in," she smiled.

He glanced up and thanked the waitress as she came back with the coffee. The cup looked tiny in his hands but it was steaming hot. Just the way he liked it. He eyed the sugar on the table, a guilty pleasure, but decided not since he had an early practice in the morning and sugar tended to give him headaches. Circenn shook his head at her. "You won't be thanking me when you realize that I won't be much help," he tried to joke, not sure if it landed right. He wanted to help and he knew he would try his best, but event planning on top of his normal quidditch and captain responsibilities was way out of his wheelhouse. "We'll sort it out together though," he said, certain of that.

"Of course," he replied to her thank you, a warm smile on his face as he shifted in his chair and moved his hands back to his mug after seeing her struggle to open the file one-handed. He moved the vase of carnations to the side so she had more room for her paperwork and notes as he leaned forward, elbow on the table and glanced at her writing, sipping at his coffee. Circenn fought against the wave of reluctance when she mentioned the main attraction was him. He knew it was for charity, he knew he had signed up for this, and he did enjoy meeting the fans usually, but it was not his first inclination. He wasn't good at being the media's go to boy, but he gave her a nod as he moved one leg up to rest on his knee, grimacing when he knocked the leg of the table and the cups rattled. His hands automatically went to steady the table and he gave her a look of apology. "Oh yeah? What's your cousin's name?"

He laughed again and shook his head. "No, no, I appreciate the help, really." The idea of her steamrolling him was humorous given their size difference. Then again she did seem to be quite a force when she was in her element, just like she had been in that meeting. "I can get a list of players together for you, I have some in mind who might be easy yeses," he said, adding before he sipped. "What else can I help with?"

"Absolutely not," Maisie replied almost instantly with a warm smile. Circenn had already helped her so much and she was still a stranger to him. "I think you're doing great," she assured him, wanting to reach over the table and squeeze his hand. She didn't, of course. This was a purely professional engagement. Taking him for coffee was also strictly professional...if one ignored the fact that they were at her favourite cafe.

Together, he'd said. So casually and smoothly that Maisie's stomach did a loop-de-loop. Meeting Circenn's gaze, she found herself believing that maybe, just maybe, they could pull this off. With a breathless laugh, she nodded. "Touch wood," she joked before gently knocking on the table top with her knuckles.

As odd as it sounded, Maisie had forgotten how large Circenn was. No one would think that if they saw him fly on his broom. He was light and agile but looking at him now, he seemed ungainly. Her heart ached for him and she gave him another smile. She made a mental note if they did this again to let him choose the venue or they could go to the park or something.

"George," Maisie answered the Quidditch player with a smile. "He's only six but we're best mates," she grinned. "He loves you," she gushed, finding her groove as she settled down, her hands wrapped around her glass of water. "We threw him a Magpies themed birthday party last month," she laughed.

"Ooh, perfect," she nodded as she picked up a pen, scribbling a little note down. Maisie was unwilling to pressure Circenn but they had timelines they needed to hit. Then again, he seemed like a trustworthy man. Her hand moved quickly across the page, mentally building a timeline of what they had to do and when before she looked up, her dark eyes met his. Maisie would deal with all the boring, logistical stuff. She wanted Circenn to have fun.

"Do you have any ideas on tombola prizes?" She asked. "I'm not asking you to donate anything personally," she assured him. Maisie could foresee the absolute frenzy that would ensue if people found out a shirt previously worn by him was on offer. "Maybe a pair of tickets to a Magpies game?" She asked. "How many tickets would you need for yourself?" Maisie began. "Friends and family?" A girlfriend?

Circenn gave her a wide smile. He really hadn't done much other than show up for a meeting and squish his legs under the table, but he appreciated her kindness in a world that seemed to teem with greed and ambition. It was a nice reprieve and he promised that he would make himself useful, at least enough so that she wouldn't be shouldering this whole event herself. He grinned as she joked and he brought his knuckles down to rap on the table, stopping quickly as he realized his motion set the cups wobbling. Circenn grabbed them and held them fast, giving her an apologetic look. Oops.

"George," he echoed, committing it to memory. The idea that a six year old he never met was enthralled with him might've made him a little bashful years ago, but now it came with the territory. "Well, then when can I meet your best mate. I bet he could teach me a few things," he joked before he took a sip of his coffee, watching as she made neat little notes on her parchment.

Tombola prizes? "Errr.." he started, bringing up a hand to rub over his bearded chin. "Like a signed jersey?" he asked, unsure of what someone would even want to win. "We can do tickets, sure," he said easily with a nod. "Bec can help with that, my manager. I can get you her contact information so she can get you what you need." But as for tickets for the event, he shook his head. "I'm not sure yet, can I get back to you on that? I'm not sure if my sister plans to be in town or not and maybe-- fuck, is that the time?" He asked as he caught the clock hanging behind her head. Then he realized, "Shit, excuse the language. I have training on the hour, I have to get going. I'm sorry, Maisie," he said as he took one last sip of his coffee and drew some sickles out of his pocket, counting out enough to cover their drinks and the tip before placing them on the center of the table.

"Can we set up another time to go through all of this?" he asked, both not wanting to be late and not wanting to look like he was leaving her here with all the work.

Circenn knocked the cups and Maisie laughed but not unkindly. She watched him with dark eyes, a smile curving her lips. He really was sweet. He was awkward, in the most endearing way. The urge to hug him was overwhelming as he said he'd want to meet little George.

"Probably at the event?" She asked, making mental calculations. He'd be rushed off his feet, what with the planning and the inevitable press engagements leading up to said event. "If I didn't take him, I'd never hear the end of it," she joked with a playful roll of her eyes. Another laugh escaped her. "Oh, I don't doubt," she replied with wide eyes. "He thinks he's the next manager, so you better watch your step," but she nodded along, scribbling.

"Fantastic idea," she assured Circenn. "People would love that. I'm not going to ask for too many personal things. Not like your left kidney or anything," she grinned. "But a jersey would be lovely. The tickets would be fine?" Maisie asked, erring on the side of caution, just in case his management had an issue with freebies. Circenn offered his manager's contact info and she smiled. "That would be really helpful, thank you," she told him gently, despite already having Bec's information and not wanting to look like a creeper.

She looked up at him as he spoke about personal tickets. He mentioned a sister but no significant other. "Sure," she nodded. "Take your time and just let me know, I -- oh." Maisie frowned as Circenn suddenly stood up, causing her to do the same. "No no," she gushed, reaching a hand out to him to assure him that leaving was perfectly acceptable. "You go," she insisted, flapping her hands at him to get moving.

"Of course. I'll write to Bec. I'm pretty sure we can fit you in any time that suits," Maisie went on, knowing damn well that she'd drop absolutely everything if he needed her. She hesitated. Was a hug too casual? A handshake too formal? Rather than do either, she just stood in front of him, hands clasped in front of her. "Have a good training session," the brunette said, frowning at her choice of words. Have a good training session? Why are you such a tit? her brain scolded her.  "We'll talk soon."

"Of course," he agreed with a nod. "You should bring him. I'll rope him into playing a scrimmage match with me," Circenn added with a smile. He did enjoy running around the pitch with kids even though at six he was sure that it would be a success if they managed to not score on their own hoops. Laughter rose up in him as his brows rose too. The next manager? He grinned as he rubbed a hand across his beard. "I'm sure he'll have some great insight."

Alright, jersey, tickets, he made a mental list that he hoped would stick in his brain. He waved a hand at her. "Yeah, it's no problem at all." He had an allotment to use at his discretion every game and rarely used the max plus it was a special event. What were a few gifted tickets for this. "Can I?" he asked, reaching out a hand for her quill before writing down Bec's information for her and slipping the paper back to her. Merlin, he hoped she could read it. His handwriting was terrible.

But he was up moments later, the time of his upcoming training session pressing at him. He hated being late. With a glance at his watch, he gave her a nod, catching her eye as he tried not to be rude about it. "Thanks, Maisie, I appreciate it," he said as he touched her shoulder gently, squeezing lightly before stepping back. "Soon," he promised as he lifted a hand in farewell before ducking out of the cafe, glancing over his shoulder at the last moment before he went around the corner to apparate away in privacy.

/end