Taking a chance PV Closed

[font=century gothic]WHEN: Sept 29, 2020 | Morning[/font]
[font=century gothic]INTERACTING WITH: @Jorah Moussa[/font]

Typically, Tuesday mornings brought with them nothing particularly interesting. Like every other morning, Evelynn had started it out with her morning run around the lake and a flight upon her Silver Arrow. A quick jaunt back to the castle had seen her broom safely stowed back in her room, had seen her washed and dressed, and her belongings packed and carried down to the hall before classes would begin. There'd been nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing to alter her course or break her from her routine. It had begun as a morning like any other, complete with her Charms text propped open to lean against a pitcher of iced orange juice.

As she delved into the finer points of whatever spell had most recently caught her interest, however, and pressed scrambled eggs into the back of the tines of her fork, her morning would be interrupted in the most unexpected of ways. The fork was halfway to her mouth when he'd approached, calling out a nickname that she hadn't heard anyone at the school employ previously. She needn't have looked around to see who it was. Even though it'd been some time since she'd interacted with him properly, those few times had been enough to ingrain him in her memory such that his face swam to the surface of her thoughts even before she'd stopped to look over her shoulder to see him standing there.

"Good morning.." Came her reply, laced with no small amount of skeptical hesitation.

The boy that stood before her seemed uncertain, a hand in his pocket as he stumbled—albeit only for a moment—through the vocalisation of his intention, was a stark contrast to the Moussa that she knew who had exhibited nothing but bravado and confidence in excess even in the face of assured defeat during their introductory chess match. He hadn't even gotten the question out before Evelynn felt a coil of nerves bundle and constrict in her belly. With her market niche planted concretely in the realm of information, the void of unpredictable unknown never sat well with her. And at present, Jorah was its very walking manifestation.

"Alright.." she continued, still cautiously. What could he possibly want to ask her? Especially now, after not really having had any significant exchange since the candy incident. What came next left her at a momentary loss of words and she found her gaze dipping to fix upon the sickle for a few seconds before lifting back to fish for his own gaze, searching it with an empty hope to read whatever his intentions might have been. "Heads or tails?" came the echo of the question. "Are you seeking a rematch or some such?" she wondered, grasping at straws. "Is this to determine who plays white or black?"

But… somehow, she didn't think so. A silence spanned between them for a breath, and then a second. A debate waged within her thoughts on whether or not to demand to know what this was regarding before she'd humor his question. Heads or tails? What on earth was this about? A furtive glance cast itself left and right and across to the other tables behind him to see if there were any others looking their way. No one in particular stood out to her and she returned her attention upon him, admittedly a touch more curious than she might have liked to admit.

"Tails, then," she allowed, lips crimping. Why tails? Perhaps it was simply because he'd shown her the face of the coin as though to subversively prompt that answer. Perhaps it was because she liked the animals on the minted coins of her home country that served as tails. Perhaps it was a random toss up between the two with no significance. "What's this about?"

Not about chess? One brow lofted sceptically. She wasn't one to enjoy having information withheld from her, and the following comment that she would see left her with a mixed sense of annoyance and sinking uncertainty. The clinking of the coins in his pockets would draw her eye to their source now and again. She wasn't sure what to expect. His whole air was entirely off from the laid-back jockish way he usually presented himself. Rather than press for an answer, however, she humoured him, curious to know what it was he was up to. Even still, she couldn't help glance about now and again to see if anyone was watching. To see if someone had put him up to something.

Movement pulled her attention back to him and she watched as he pulled a hand from his pocket. And promptly drop whatever it was he had withdrawn. A coin, evidently, by the way it clinked and skittered across the floor and under the table. "What are you—" She had just enough time to pull her feet up and withdraw swiftly from her seat as he dove under. What was once a reserved expression turned some mixture of shock, indignation and a healthy portion of embarrassment. Whether for him, or for herself, she didn't give it a moment to ascertain. Especially as it was only a moment before a hand shot out from underneath where she had been sitting but a breath earlier, a glint of silver clutched in its fingers.

It seemed she wasn't the only one feeling more than a little awkward. The fact that the boy's face was flushed scarlet as he extricated himself from his brash dive offered her a modicum of relief. Lips pursed, and she folded her arms across her core where she stood back from the table. "Win what…" She demanded to know, now slightly irritated that he'd had the audacity to not only interrupt her breakfast studying, but also to make a spectacle of it. She was only too aware of the glances cast their way by those of her peers nearest to where she had been seated. And on top of that, the doubts about his intentions were beginning to pile up.

Instead of an answer, however, she was forced to watch as he flipped, caught, and slapped the coin down to his wrist. "Well..?" She asked with barely veiled disdain, eyes fixed onto the back of his hand as though expecting to be able to see through to the result beneath. Her posture straightened on his approach. A pause. Too long. An expectant glare flicked from his hand to his face daring him to hold out any longer and see just what that would get him. Whether he got the message or it was simply coincidence of timing, he took that moment to raise his hand. Her brow lofted once more with the dramatics. Until he actually announced the "prize".

"I will have the honour of…" Perhaps anyone else might have scoffed, rolled their eyes, shared a laugh at the display of bold audacity. Not Evelynn. Instead, the cub stood perplexed, lips parting slightly and brows raised with her surprise. Storm grey eyes flicked to her peers in an attempt to gauge whether what was happening was actually happening. "Are you…"

The unfinished question hung in the air as she looked back to him. He was. He was asking her to the ball. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so surprised. Among the Gryffindor dorm at least, she had been voted most social and prettiest, and her status as co-captain and first string seeker on the Gryffindor Team surely brought with it a certain level of status. But no one had ever asked her before. And even the boy she'd asked to the last dance had been as a cover for a plot. She was hesitating. It was her turn to clear her throat, lick her lips and swallow to moisten a parched mouth, and clear her expression of her vulnerability. What could it hurt? They were both quidditch players. He was clever enough. Besides, he'd already proven at least somewhat interested in the candy fiasco. Perhaps he could be useful again.

"Very well," she answered, shrugging a brow dismissively while stepping forward to resume her seat. She leaned forward to close her text and tuck it away in her bag. "We can discuss the details closer to."

[font=century gothic]INTERACTING WITH: @Jorah Moussa

SHE SAID YES! Ha!, a nervous laugh escaped his lips. Jorah was anticipating a rejection after his foolish display, but somehow the young buck had pulled out a win. The boy was giddy with excitement, the smile on his face now genuine. He was going to the dance with The Sneak! Perhaps her sleight of hand could be put to use during the ball, lifting away desserts from distracted revelers. She could be the Robin Hood of sweets, maiden of confectionaries, a sugar momma if you will.

Jorah was happy she accepted his proposal. It had to be her, she was smart, she played Quidditch, and that red hair! She even had a Canadian accent, but to Jorah's surprise she did not smell of maple syrup. In fact, it was a good thing she didn't smell of maple syrup, as delicious as that would sound. Maple Syrup Urine Disease was a rare genetic metabolic disorder affecting the metabolism of branched chain amino acids: valine, leucine, and isoleucine. The buildup of these amino acids leads to cerebral edema, coma, and death. Treatment would involve dietary restriction, hemodialysis, and liver transplantation. Jorah didn't know any of this of course. He was only 12 years old, he only knew simple stuff like where pickles came from. You know, the kind of simple stuff a full grown adult should have learned decades ago. Any self respecting adult that didn't know that should be ashamed and clearly could not be trusted with anything important, like healthcare for instance.

"Great! Yeah, we should talk about what we should wear. I think Jake was on to something with that giant pumpkin outfit last year. We could be zombie quidditch players! Oh.. Oh! we could even be... " In Jorah's excitement, he withdrew his hands to gesticulate what was he was trying to express with words. To his great misfortunate, as his hand shot out from his pocket, so too did one of the Sickles. The silver coin flew in a graceful arc of destruction. Time slowed to a snail's pace as the adrenaline heightened Jorah's senses so that he could experience the horror unfolding before him in exquisite detail. The dramatic chorus of "O Fortuna"

rang in his head as the boy watched the coin somersault end over end from where he stood toward Evelynn. Jorah tried to grab the coin mid air, but it only just escaped the edge of his finger tips. As the coin flipped, Jorah watched the image of a dragon on one side disappear then reappear on the opposite side. The beasts soared through the air until...what came next was how Jorah envisioned it.

BAM!, the coin would hit Evelynn smack dab in the middle of her forehead before plopping down onto her eggs. Jorah could not believe what had just happened. What malicious God was seeking to ruin his life so. He just wanted to ask the pretty girl to the dance, not assault her! He stood there speechless. What was worse, the fact that he hit her in the face with a coin? Or was it the fact that coin was now nestled in her breakfast? Maybe it could be that the coin was not a real coin at all but just an elaborate way of asking a girl out.

Jorah snapped back to reality.

Nervous laughter met Evelynn's resigned acceptance, but she really couldn't fathom why. It was just a request to attend the dance. Nothing more, as far as she was aware, and really not all that different than what she had done last spring when asking Flash to accompany her. Then, Flash and she had been comrades in arms, so to speak. Only, quite literally in that respect. Well, at least initially, until his attention had been swooped away by that sly fox and mosps had elected to descend upon them all. Still, it had been a beneficial union. One that would have allowed them to mill about and integrate with the rest to visit and question and observe without drawing undue attention.

As far as Evelynn was aware, this was hardly any different. Although their partnership had been solidified in the midst of a confectionary mystery and hadn't exactly expanded past that, Moussa was still (as far as she was concerned) a partner, and one upon whom she could (hopefully) rely to fulfil her goals for this dance as well. So where all this nervous energy was coming from, she really didn't understand, and the sceptical look that she shot him—complete with pinched brows and pursed lips—expressed exactly that.

"Oh?" Came the equally perplexed echo as Moussa made some comment about a giant pumpkin. Evelynn paused in the packing of her belongings and prepping for class, allowing her hands to sort of linger forgotten on her bag. "I didn't attend last year's Hallowe'en ball…" she admitted airily as Moussa continued his train of thought uninhibited. Not that that fact had stopped her from trying to find out as much about what had happened that night as possible. It was because of the fact that she had had so much trouble trying to pin down the details that she had vowed never to miss another student even again.

"What…" She blinked. "Zombie.. Quidditch players..?"

Her dubious expression becoming effectively fixed the more words spilled out from the Ravenclaw's mouth. Perhaps she'd acquiesced too soon. What in the world had she agree to? By the way that he was talking, it almost sounded like he wanted to attend the dance for the purpose of enjoying himself. And she hadn't the faintest idea what he'd been on about with a Jake and a giant pumpkin…

"I—" She'd been about to express her doubts about his apparent line of thought as far as costume choice was concerned when his hand shot out. And with it, a glint of silver.

All thought of conversation vanished in an instance, time seeming to slow down as Evelynn honed in on the arcing route of the projectile. Against the blurred backdrop of a wide-eyed and scrambling bird, reflexes took over. With minimal movement and with a swiftness that would have been missed in a blink, Evelynn's hand shot up. Just in time. Hovering mere inches from her face, she had somehow managed to catch the coin on its edge, trapping the flat of the metal between fore and middle fingers, gaze fixed on the ridged edge that had been so near to pelting her right in the face. There was a reason she'd obtained first-string seeker position on the Gryffindor team.

For several seconds, she sat still and statuesque as though the release of the coin had severed the threads of time and space themselves. In reality, her mind was scrambling to process exactly what had just happened, the sequence playing out like a released bungee, slowly at first, then catching up all at once. When it did, she blinked, brows shooting up in delayed surprise, not just at the fact that Moussa had just tried taking her head off, but at her own ability to have prevented such a fate in so slick a response.

"Well.." she finally mused, turning the coin over in her fingers as she tried to find some measure of composure. "Fortunate, I suppose, that I should have accepted; I'm not sure I want to know what would have happened had I said no." A rueful smirk cast towards Moussa's stunned image accompanied the quip. "Although…"

In the slow turning of the coin, something caught her attention. Something off. Gray eyes dropped from the boy to the metal to inspect it more closely, only to find that it wasn't actually a true coin at all. Each side was the same, both displaying the very same imprint of a dragon. With a scoff, she snapped the coin flat against her palm before tucking it into an inside pocket in her bag and rose from the bench abruptly. She couldn't believe his audacity. Tails and you win.. He'd tricked her. There'd been no heads. What a stupid game. And yet, she'd fallen for it. Annoyance sparked through her at having been out-witted.

"I see you make your own fortune.." she intoned stiffly, fixing Moussa with one last lidded, scrutinizing gaze. "You're not getting your coin back." And with that, if not stopped, she'd make to move past him and head to first class.

[font=century gothic]INTERACTING WITH: @Jorah Moussa