Spinning into Orbit PV Madhup Finished

| @Dealla Prince |

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	Dee stood out against the teeming sea of celebrating Durmfolk. Mad had just finished demonstrating his remarkable ability to chug the contents of an entire tankard while hanging upside-down from his broom. Pumping a fist towards the floor, he froze mid cackle, having met two bright blue eyes. He swung down and leapt up, beaming boyishly as he pushed through the throng to meet her. "You came!" The expression was innocent, joyful, though took a turn for the sly as he ribbed "Could not resist, hey?" Easy pleasantries passed. She was Dee, he was Mad, and just about anything after that was hard to hear. At least, he pretended it was for awhile, cupping his ear and HUHing several times before suggesting they take a walk. When she dragged him off by an arm, he would look back to catch a friend's eye, waggling his eyebrows as the Hogwarts girl carried off with him. "Aren't they going to be mad at me if I steal their star blatcher from their party so soon?" Tilting his head back for a laugh, Mad gloated "When you are the star, you do what you like." Tease met with tease- the Chaser trio was evenly matched, but he liked to play the part, especially when trying to get in the good graces of an impressive witch. Once she let go of his arm to draw on her coat, he hastily fixed his hair and cupped a hand over his mouth to check his breath, still hauling along his Varápidos. No way was he leaving it in a tent for some jilted opponent to sabotage, or steal. Better out here, she'd said, and he yeahed his agreement. Mad only liked to put on shows in short bursts. Once they were detached from the chaos, his bravado seemed to tame, replaced by relaxed fascination for present company. It was better. He wasn't compelled to posture so much, seeing as she knew nothing of his shoddy reputation at school. She didn't know about the discrimination he'd faced as half-blood Durmstrang, the fights, the sloppy breakups, his status as a detention frequent flier. A new friend meant a fresh slate. All that mattered was to not fuck it up. They moved through tents and snow, music and raucous commemorations fading. "So...." She turned, and Mad slowed his step, smiling with a wolfish tilt of his head. The way she shivered in the breeze made his smirk twitch higher. Hogwarts kids didn't know cold. "When you asked me to come to the game last night, what did you think my reaction would be?" That grin faltered, but didn't fall. Mad opened his arms and drawled, "Maybe the same as others who see our games?" He downplayed it some, now that he could be confident that wasn't the case, playfully wiggling his fingers like his team was considered the Boogeymen of Quidditch. "That we are bullies, cheaters, 'dirtbag Durmstang'...." He propped a hand on his hip as he scanned her with a smile, searching for something. "...or maybe you would see something in me that I saw in you. I do not like to hurt people. I just like to win. But sometimes hurting people is what we do to be the 'star', yeah?" There was weight to the statement. It was a bold connection to make, but an important one. The drive to excel shaped his choices, and Mad was convinced Dee knew what that was like, for all the fair and foul it did. But he dispelled the heavy shroud with an abruptly renewed smirk. "You were funny, in the stands. What was the spell you used to write?"
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Mad at the spin, Mad at the game, and Mad in the crowd they had just left behind always had a sort of tense energy about him. Like a photo with the saturation and contrast turned up too high, he stood out, with sharp edges and bright colours. He seemed a little softer out in the snow, smoothing his hair as if he thought she didn't notice, and carrying his broom along like it was his most valued possession. For all she knew, it might be. It was a different model from her own Starsweeper, and Dee absentmindedly wondered if he'd let her try it out if she asked, only to blink when what she'd meant as a light-hearted question caused the almost perpetual smirk on his face to fade, if just a bit.

A small frown twitched across her face. She'd expected more boasting and banter, but while Mad's answer was phrased flippantly, it seemed surprisingly honest. She considered, then shrugged. "That'd make me a bit of a hypocrite, no?" Not that she was above some hypocrisy when it suited her, but she didn't fancy herself holding superior moral ground here. Glancing around, Dee changed course slightly, heading for the stadium itself, trusting that he'd follow. There were waist-high dividers near the entrances, meant to guide the people in the queues. "People always act like Quidditch is the most brutal sport, but in duelling, the winning criterion is literally to knock your opponents unconscious. I've dealt my fair share of violence." Hadn't lost any sleep over it, either. "Besides, they get fixed up after the game, right? It's all temporary."

Something seemed to change in his voice with the next words, and Dee stopped next to one of the railings at the sound of it. Turning towards Mad, she paused at the way he looked at her, a small shiver running through her when she met his eyes. He seemed like he was looking for something... or maybe like he'd found something. "I always play to win," she reminded him softly, the words more serious than when she'd said them at the Mistletoe Spin. No holding back, regardless of the consequences.

Dee held the contact for a moment longer, then turned back to the railing, giving the layer of snow on it a critical glance. She slipped her wand from her pocket even as she flashed a smile at Mad in response to his question. "Glad you liked it," she replied blithely, thinking back with a grin at how the delighted expression at the burning number 9 in the air had been replaced with an offended one when she'd turned it into a rating. A not perfect one, to boot.

An absentminded Aer Calidus took care of the snow and let her hop up onto the railing without having to fear snow melting into her clothes. "Neat, wasn't it?" With her wand already in hand, it seemed easiest to just demonstrate. "Flagrate." Once again, the tip of her wand burst with bright orange fire, and once again, she traced the shape of a mirrored 9 into the air, the size of her palm this time, leaving it to hover between them. She left it at that, extinguishing the spell with a flick, but instead of looking at her handiwork, she watched Mad's reaction.

"You were impressive today." The sincerity in her voice took the words from empty flattery to something more genuine. After a moment of hesitation, she nodded at the space next to her - an invitation, to either join her on the railing, or at least come a little closer.

@Pericles Dralt

| @Dealla Prince |

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	Mad shrugged a shoulder at the question. It wouldn't have been the first time he was on the wrong end of someone else's hypocrisy, but at least with Dee, he wouldn't have to add another encounter to that list. As a former duellist, she was entirely pragmatic about the damage they dealt in their respective sports. The Martial Mage [in training] took comfort in that as they eased into each other's company. While the injuries inflicted might be temporary, the experience they took away was indispensable, a value he and the blue-eyed girl shared. "I always play to win," she'd reminded, like music to his ears. Madhup's catlike smile spread. "Good. Then we will not waste each other's time." What was consequence to victors? Collateral. The most glaring difference he'd sussed out so far was their regard of magic: Madhup used it as a last resort, whereas Dee's mastery made it a tool to utilize on a whim. He gave her a sidelong look when her wand blasted snow from the railing. Reaching out, he deliberately dusted it with his palm, wordlessly teasing her for not just using her hands like a commoner. The surname Prince was going to absolutely tickle him once it was revealed. Yet that wasn't to say he failed to admire skill where it was due. When she traced a new nine into the air, his eyes went wide, reflecting the blazing lines as they flickered in midair. That veneer of vanity was replaced by silent wonder, making for the face of a kid watching fireworks. If Mad was honest with others, and himself, he would admit that he was enamored with magic. It wasn't something he was raised with, he had never learned to take it for granted. On the other hand, he also hadn't fully outgrown the habit of giving something up when he wasn't good at it. His love-hate relationship with his own arcane powers was messy at best, so he had come to rely on physicality, honing his body with strenuous regimens to compensate. But deep down, he was bewitched by magic and by those who commanded it. As the fiery spell was replaced by warm praise, Mad blinked up at Dee, briefly redirecting that awestruck look her way. The empty-headed grin sprang up again. "I am impressive everyday," he dismissed at a drawl, treating their win and his subsequent glory like old news. He hopped up onto the railing alongside her, crossing his ankles and balancing his broom across open knees. Clearly she wanted to know everything about him- that, or he was projecting the fact that he wanted to hear more about her. He introduced himself fully as Madhup ("-it means Bumblebee in Sanskrit-") Hexum, raised by a muggle carpenter in New Delhi, now living with his adoptive matron in Gothenburg, Sweden. The relationship there didn't sound too familiar, given he referred to her by her name, Thekla, rather than "mom". There was contrasting fondness when he spoke of his adopted sister and brother, Leira and Felix (no relation to the one at the Spin), before asking if Dee had any siblings of her own. Mad went on to say he was specializing in Combat Magic, though his objective was ambiguous. Maybe a bodyguard, more likely a famous Quidditch champion, mentioned alongside the generous offer of signing something of hers before he became famous.
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There was, of course, an entire list of reasons Dee could have given as to why using the Hot Air charm was objectively superior to using your hand... but she refrained, giving him a shrug and a grin, and then pushed herself onto the railing - which was not just snow-free, but dry and warm, thank you very much.

Despite absolutely having been showing off, rather aiming for this reaction, the mesmerised look on Mad's face still took Dee by surprise. It was a neat spell, pretty, sparkling, an she'd chosen that particular number with an astonishing lack of subtlety and self-consciousness, but it still seemed something minor to her. A spell she'd learned in her second year, with not much use to it apart from writing cuss words on walls in the dead of night after having had maybe a sip of firewhisky too many, and, apparently, impressing cute boys. She didn't think it warranted the reverent expression he gave first the spell and then her.

For only a moment, however, which was well enough, because if Mad had looked at her like that a for a second longer, her only option might have been to kick him. As it was, she was satisfied that the awe had been directed at the flaming number 9 rather than her, and when he immediately swapped back to cheeky boasts, Dee threw her head back in a laugh. "I'll admit you're two for two at the moment," she conceded. "The rest remains to be seen?"

The flood of information was met in kind, and between nods and questions - was his name the reason he liked to fly so much, then? But wouldn't wasp be more fitting? But also, what had happened to his dad? - Dee was just as free with talking about herself. Dee Prince, that was her name, although her mother and grandparents insisted on calling her Dealla. There was obvious and fierce affection in her voice when she spoke about her parents, and no, she didn't have any siblings. (Better that way, she liked being the center of attention too much.) Her love for potions was mentioned, she'd gotten that from her muggleborn mother, and she was brewing something special at the moment... but denied further detail with a smug little smile.

She nodded at the assertion that he'd make it big in Quidditch, expression serious as she could muster, then asked if he'd consider signing several of her things. She'd be able to sell them for a lot of money when he was famous, after all.

Kicking her feet lazily, Dee breathed out, then nodded back into the direction they'd come from. "I've only ever gone to Muggle school, and then I came here. What's it like, Durmstrang? Beyond, you know. Freezing cold." She flicked a bit of snow at him, along with a cheeky smile.

@Pericles Dralt

| @Dealla Prince |

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	"Two for two... my usual perfect score." Madhup was, in every sense of the word, unbothered. He seemed a simple guy with simple pleasures. He liked conversation, especially when it came to talking about himself, and even more so when talking to someone pretty. "Wasp would be... Tantuh," he translated after a moment of mulling. "Madhup is a more handsome name, my parents knew I would be so." He accentuated this fact with a flamboyant hair toss. Yet the flier's face fell when asked about his dad. An attempt was made at indifference as he answered in short: "He was a uh, Maggl? A house he was building broke-" he made a collapsing gesture with his hands, waving in and down, "-and my maan was already gone. So," he forcibly brightened with a renewed smile, "Miss Hexum took me in." For once, he was eager to change the subject from himself. A mental note was made to never call her Dealla, since apparently that's what dusty old people liked to say. Something rare and tender softened his face when he heard her love for her parents. That was a sign of a good soul. He admitted he'd never been all too great at potions, and matched her smirk when she refused to tell him what she was working on. "Is it a love potion? You know you don't need one to spell people, not with those blue eyes, Neeli." Mad knew he was a shmoozer, but how was he supposed to help himself? She'd humored him so far. The foreign kid snickered at the snow flicked his way, pretending to be offended as he brushed it from his jacket. "Mostly, just cold. Durmstrang is a lot like an army. Or a family? It's very...." His mind wandered to the mistletoe spin, specifically her remark on how tight they all seemed. "...well. You know. Close. Sometimes even I am tired of how obsessed we are with ourselves, but don't tell my team I said so." Quidditch clearly meant the world to him, with the way he spoke about it and puffed up when asked for his signature. Mad patted his pockets for a pen he knew wasn't there, then shrugged. There was a mischievous lilt to his voice as he sighed, "We will have to meet again when I have a pen." Beneath his impishness, a shade of shy hope stirred, afraid of coming on too strongly but unable to resist taking the shot. "Can we meet again? Durmstrang visits Hogwarts so many times... usually I am sleeping in our boat or practicing on your pitch. Next time you could show me something fun to do." Sitting so close, she could see a spark of realization. Mad opened his jacket, and from a pocket in its lining, produced a bottle of amber liquid. The label featured a little horned man belching fire. It was a cheap brand, though at least the cork was still sealed. "I was bringing this to the party, but they are having enough fun already. You should have it since you don't like the cold. Firewhiskey will warm you right up." Did girls like booze as a gift? Hopefully. He didn't have anything else to give her, and he wasn't about to risk miscasting the flower summoning spell while building a first impression.
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It was going to take some getting used to, the way Madhup responded to Dee's teasing with flat-out honesty (and some boasting), taking everything she said - such as her comments about his name - at face value and responding accordingly. At the same time, it was refreshing, easy, and Dee felt herself relaxing the longer she talked, releasing a bit of tension with each exhale, her face settling into a smile broken up by laughter. They were both easily coaxed into talking about themselves, which might have gone terribly wrong, except that Dee enjoyed listening to his boasting almost as much as she liked talking about her own achievements herself.

There was a short twinge of alarm when his expression tightened uncomfortably after her question about his father, intensifying when he described in short words how both his parents were dead, because what was she supposed to respond to that, she didn't know him that well yet- The only thing she could think to do was reach out a tentative hand towards whichever part of him was closest, cool fingers curling around the fabric of his jacket, before slipping down to gently wrap around his wrist. The thought... she couldn't imagine. Lucky for both of them, Mad didn't seem inclined to dwell on the topic either, and heavy-handedly shifted the conversation to her. Dee took the out gladly.

Her expression changed to an almost offended one at the suggestion that what she'd been cooking up in her potions lab had been a love potion of all things, only to turn to a surprised snort at the outrageous flattery. "Are you saying I've bewitched you?" she asked, but only managed to stay serious halfway through the sentence before she broke out into bright giggles. She did, however, not confirm what she was or wasn't brewing - considering usage of this potion wasn't exactly legal. "What does neeli mean?" she asked instead, tripping up slightly on the unfamiliar word. Admittedly, it had sounded better when Mad had said it.

It was easy to chat and flirt in the snow, air cold in her lungs and Madhup warm beside her, but Dee grew still, her smile fading slightly, when he asked whether they could meet again. She hadn't been on a date, hadn't even really looked at anyone since, well, the spring ball, because even the idea of it shot panic down her spine and made her muscles lock up. Flirting with a cute guy in the moment was one thing, making plans for the future was another, and she was waiting for the same thing to happen now, for a moment, two, listening to her own heartbeat, then huffed a relieved laugh when it didn't. "I think we can manage that," she agreed, her eyes bright. "Something that's neither on your boat nor on the Quidditch pitch... unless I can try out your broom?"

Her eyebrows rose slightly when he opened his jacket to reveal what, judging from the colour, was a bottle of firewhiskey. Perhaps she should have questioned more why he was carrying it around in his jacket, but as she looked at it, lips curling in amusement, an idea of her own started to form in her mind. Without considering whether it was meant as an actual gift, or if he'd meant for them to drink it together, she reached out to take it, spinning it in her hands once, then pocketed it with a grin. It was the last piece she'd been missing for a plan that included a certain potion and all of her tent mates. "Oh, that is perfect. I know just what to do with that." She leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, thoughts caught up in her private scheming. "Thank you."

@Pericles Dralt

| @Dealla Prince |

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	Spurred on by the snort he'd gotten out of her, Mad playfully bat his eyelashes, continuing to do what he did best: laying it on thick. There was still something genuine in the way he admired Dealla, voice a smitten purr as he answered simply: "Blue." The thought didn't cross his mind to slow down until he saw the way she stiffened at the implication of turning this summer flirt sesh into something more. Mad reflexively held up his hands, implying she didn't have to commit to anything, only for a relieved grin to spring up again when she agreed. Granted, he looked even more excited at the prospect of sharing and showing off his first-class broom. "Tell you what, Dee Prince: I'll come to watch you race, and if you win, you can try my Varápidos." He sealed the deal with a parting gift of firewhiskey. Dee claimed she knew "just what to do with it", and although that apparently didn't involve sneaking shots with the Durmstrang boy then and there, he was decidedly cool with it. The blatcher knew enough about staying out of trouble than to ask what that ominous phrase implied. Time outside had given them the right atmosphere for getting to know one another in a way that the howling Durmstrang partyers would have prevented. Evidently having had his fill of heart-to-heart conversation, Mad motioned back towards the party. "Want to warm up with a dance instead?" He would wait for Dee to hop down from her magically heated seat, then reached for her collar with the clump of snow he'd balled in a fist, dexterously slipping it past the fabric. He'd thought this payback fair for the snow she flicked on his favorite leather jacket, but Dee decided to tip the scales again with a well-cast Nive Percutio that would leave Mad reentering the tent looking like he'd crawled out from an avalanche.
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Exiting scene~