Sunday Best PV C. Woodward Closed

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Charlie had garnered somewhat of a habit of wandering. He did it well, he had to admit. Wandering had let him meet quite a few interesting people, and see dozens of brilliant new things.
The whole 'magic' thing was still rather new to him, his first year had been somewhat... secluded-- but he was finally starting to branch out a little, and make new friends- and reach out to new people and opportunities.

His walk to the lake was not an endeavour to find new friends, however. He didn't fully expect anyone to be out and about near the lake at the moment. It was more or less his escape to a more familiar surrounding. A mental break from his endeavours with a curious Hufflepuff and the unsettled Ravenclaw would be best. They were sweet, but being surrounded by girls all the time had given him somewhat of a large social exhaustion from the usual antics he'd been brought into.

He bounded down the beaten track with a small smile on his face. The forest reminded him of home, sun leaking through the leaves with the sound of birds and other creatures, and he hopped over the rocks and through the bends, not paying much mind as he saw the view of the lake in the distance, through the brush.

Not paying much mind until a rather loud THWACK! caught his attention. It sounded akin to a baseball bat- not something he was used to seeing (or, he supposed, hearing) at the magic school, which caused his run to quickly slow to a short jog, then a curious walk.

Investigating, he eventually forced himself out of the brush and onto the edge of the water, large stones dotting the coast of the lake, and in the distance, a boy looking around, rather confused.
"Ah man!" he heard in the distance. "Lost it again, can't believe I always do this."

Curious, Charlie pursed his lips, approaching slowly. "Lost what?" he asked, his thick texan accent breaking the otherwise silent air past the other's remarks.

Charlie handed the bat back with some care before resting his hands in the pockets of his trousers, watching the boy as he dismissed the concern. He pursed his lips and nodded. "It's no worries, though I can't imagine how it got all the way over there. Must've thrown it hard." He chuckled.
When he asked about Thor, his nod only continued- though he was more accustomed to the mythology books over the gods than he was the comics. The local library in his home town didn't have much in ways of comic book collections. "I reckon." He shrugged with a small smile. "I read a few of the comics, though my mom always had me reading the original mythos anthologies." It sounded a little pretentious when it came out that way, but he meant the best this the statement. "You're a quidditch player?" He then asked, curiosities plainly spread on his face. "'M learnin' right now, the rules n' stuff. Didn't have it where I'm from, but I like it." He was hoping to try out for the house team soon, though his know-how was still weak at best.

When the boy stuck his hand out, Charlie gladly took the grasp and shook with a firm, gentlemanly grip. "Nice to meet ya, Reid. I'm Charlie." He pushed a small smirk. It was nice talking to someone other than the girls for once. "'M From Texas, America. All the way 'cross the sea n' everything. I think I'm the only one here, as far as I'm aware." He took pride in the accent, and the effect it seemed to have on people and smiled. He retracted his hand to rest back in his pocket again. "How about you? Apparently more than a few people here put a real emphasis on the nationality." He thought back on the Scottish pride he'd been exposed to from his Ravenclaw friend, and he assumed on his very limited knowledge that Reid was English, though at this point, all the accents still sounded the same to him- mushed together into one foreign conglomerate.

"I'd love to try out, once I'm a little more well-versed in the rules." He let out a long sigh, letting his hand run through his hair. "I'll be the first to admit I know nothing about the sport, though."
He'd been to a total of one game in his first year and had a few friends who played-- or were avid fans. It reminded him of the enthusiasm that a lot of his previous peers had with Football, although in Scotland, football wasn't football, was it? He'd been mostly on the front with female friends for his second year, barely spoke to his male acquaintances from time to time, but none of them had really explained much about the sport past that it was all done exclusively on brooms. "Falling, huh?" He asked a little wary. "Sounds pretty dangerous, what position do you play?"
His tone was a weak attempt to mimic someone who might actually know a thing or two about the game, sounding a little sarcastic as he looked to the other boy. He knew there were positions, like the Seeker and Chasers, and the conversation with a boy was more than refreshing from his recent endeavours with others.

The Texan found himself leaning against a rock as he waited for a reply, hands resting in his pockets and green eyes jumping from Reid to the lake, to the bat or the rocks.