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sweetpinkpixie · Today, 01:11 AM

Text Cut: what a delightfully fitting nickname!

CJ's eyebrows shot up so fast they disappeared beneath the edge of his beanie.

"Terminal what-now?"

Terminal as in...airport terminal? Had she named the table and merely announcing his arrival? Actually, yeah. That checked out. Also reminded him of the games dad and mom used to play to try and get him to sit at the dinner table and STAY there. His toddler phase fascination with airplanes had been a lot of fun.

"Wait, no way, that's a real thing?! I just thought it was some funny little phrase thrown around for laughs. Not a real bonafide brew someone could make!"

And since CJ was arriving at Terminal Whatever-she-had-just-said...

The chair legs scraped loudly against the floor as he finally fully committed to sitting across from her, carefully lowering his tray like someone disarming an explosive device in one of those epic spy thrillers. Which, given the amount of soup AND butterbeer involved, honestly tracked.

Meanwhile she started explaining ghost theory AT him and CJ listened with the intense concentration of someone trying to catch a snitch while also realizing halfway through that the snitch might actually be a patch of wibbly wobbly golden airspace again.

His brows pulled together.

"So the ghost is basically… borrowing people battery?" he asked slowly, fingers conducting an invisibly symphony. "Like one of those portable charger thingies? Or like machines do in the Matrix?"

Talk about a film that gave a person an existential crisis. No spoons. Everything is chicken. Déjà vu.

Anyway, his brain couldn't possibly stop moving for even one blessed second now ― which was not a guarantee of anything smart coming out of his mouth.

"Wait. If a ghost borrowed energy from another ghost… would that make them, like, renewable? Ghost cannibalizing another for spirity energy? You think either Cloggs or Burbage did that and THAT'S why they're professors?"

Before she could fully recover from that ask sentence, the Gryffindor had already leaned forward onto his elbows with his chin dropping into both hands, staring at her with blatant wide-eyed, mouth agape awe.

"Yo, by the way, you're, like… crazy smart." Then an impish grin crossed his features. "Maybe you should tutor me or something. Though my track record with smart pretty blonde girls here is kinda dragon dung so far." He pointed vaguely toward his own nose ― which, for the record, had mended nicely and not gone all crooked or nothing. "First one launched a goblet at my face hard enough to rearrange my ancestors. Never had that happen to be before but... There's a first time for everything."

Today, 01:11 AM	#110 (permalink)
sweetpinkpixie SSRPG Admin Gladrags Mod Quibbler Mod Minister for Magic Alley Proprietor Sea Serpent Join Date: Aug 2010 Location: The Paths Posts: 41,387 Hogwarts RPG Name: Professor Cox Ravenclaw Graduated Hogwarts RPG Name: CJ Miller Gryffindor Third Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Nyle Harden Hufflepuff Sixth Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Iris Harden Ravenclaw Sixth Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Calliope Barrington Slytherin Fifth Year Ministry Department Head: Charles Hollingberry Minister's Office Ministry Department Head: Airey Flamsteed Mysteries Diagon Alley Proprietor: Victor García Massey Ollivanders x12 x12	astronomizzle ♧ gryffinDORK \| & the rest is drag ♣ #badluckDerf Text Cut: what a delightfully fitting nickname! Quote: Originally Posted by squidnie Cat did, of course, witness the whole thing. She saw the boy enter the pub, saw him order every single thing on the menu, then she watched him almost dump every last menu item on an older man who really ought to consider his audience when choosing his words. Not that she felt that better word choice would temper Hurricane CJ. Rather, Cat was fairly certain that the Gryffindor Troll would continue over everything in his path out of sheer force of wheel and or dumb luck. Terminal obtuseness. She hadn’t forgotten about that. And she was beginning to think that it was a skill rather than a hindrance at this point. She was, begrudgingly perhaps, becoming impressed by the boy’s ability to create a metaphorical earthquake in just about any room he entered. He was also, it seemed to her, the only person who perhaps spoke more than she did once prompted. And maybe it was the shock, but she found it hard to form words in his general vicinity. It was most certainly not the dark, curly hair. Or the wide, deep brown eyes. And it was definitely not the way his mouth turned up like that on one side but not the other. “Terminal obtuseness,” she reminded herself in a mumble before the boy in question bombarded her. She blinked in response to his verbal onslaught. Then veeeeery slowly, veeeeeeeeeeery deliberately, sipped her butterbeer. *“The Draught of Ephemera doesn’t reinvigorate* ghosts,” she informed him. “It uses a human catalyst. So, if anything, I’d say that it drains other resources and allows the ghost to use them rather than breathing life and energy into the ghost itself.” Was that his point? No, and Cat was fully aware of that. It’s just that he brought out her argumentative side for some reason. “But,” she added, “The butterbeer is very good, yes.” CJ's eyebrows shot up so fast they disappeared beneath the edge of his beanie. "Terminal what-now?" Terminal as in...airport terminal? Had she named the table and merely announcing his arrival? Actually, yeah. That checked out. Also reminded him of the games dad and mom used to play to try and get him to sit at the dinner table and STAY there. His toddler phase fascination with airplanes had been a lot of fun. "Wait, no way, that's a real thing?! I just thought it was some funny little phrase thrown around for laughs. Not a real bonafide brew someone could make!" And since CJ was arriving at Terminal Whatever-she-had-just-said... The chair legs scraped loudly against the floor as he finally fully committed to sitting across from her, carefully lowering his tray like someone disarming an explosive device in one of those epic spy thrillers. Which, given the amount of soup AND butterbeer involved, honestly tracked. Meanwhile she started explaining ghost theory AT him and CJ listened with the intense concentration of someone trying to catch a snitch while also realizing halfway through that the snitch might actually be a patch of wibbly wobbly golden airspace again. His brows pulled together. "So the ghost is basically… borrowing people battery?" he asked slowly, fingers conducting an invisibly symphony. "Like one of those portable charger thingies? Or like machines do in the Matrix?" Talk about a film that gave a person an existential crisis. No spoons. Everything is chicken. Déjà vu. Anyway, his brain couldn't possibly stop moving for even one blessed second now ― which was not a guarantee of anything smart coming out of his mouth. "Wait. If a ghost borrowed energy from another ghost… would that make them, like, renewable? Ghost cannibalizing another for spirity energy? You think either Cloggs or Burbage did that and THAT'S why they're professors?" Before she could fully recover from that ask sentence, the Gryffindor had already leaned forward onto his elbows with his chin dropping into both hands, staring at her with blatant wide-eyed, mouth agape awe. "Yo, by the way, you're, like… crazy smart." Then an impish grin crossed his features. "Maybe you should tutor me or something. Though my track record with smart pretty blonde girls here is kinda dragon dung so far." He pointed vaguely toward his own nose ― which, for the record, had mended nicely and not gone all crooked or nothing. "First one launched a goblet at my face hard enough to rearrange my ancestors. Never had that happen to be before but... There's a first time for everything.**" __________________ We broke into a million pieces, and we can't go back......................................... But now we're seeing all the beauty in the broken glass..................................... The scars are part of me, darkness and harmony My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like