 Sardines ♥ // Nomsy, yo ❄ rolling in the ink ❄
“Nothing,” Cat said quickly, almost before CJ had even finished asking his question. She wasn’t about to explain that to him. She was also (basically) sworn to secrecy about the phrase, anyway. She wasn’t about to break that trust.
His next words brought to her brain a few terrifying images. The worst one being the Gryffindor somehow trying to brew said elixir and a variety of horrors that could ensue. She had a similar urge to the one she had a few minutes ago; to completely deny that she’d said anything at all on the subject and forcefully move on. However, the scraping of the chair on the floor and the lack of trust she had in his various liquids to stay in their assigned containers distracted her from being able to truly take control of the conversation while she had the chance.
So, here she was, somehow talking about batteries and the Matrix - a word she only had a vague recollection of and which made her feel completely out of her depth.
“That’s not -” Sweet Circe, this boy truly never. Stopped. Talking. Cat’s eyes briefly flicked down to the half-full mug of butterbeer in her hands. She took a deep breath to ride out the sudden urge to repeat the Opening Feast Fiasco.
His next words - since she had no way of getting her own in edgewise - struck her. She felt her face heat up and immediately lifted her mug to her lips for something to do, and as a tactic to hide her face a bit. He thought she was smart?
Wait. He thought she was pretty??
… he thought Marina was pretty?
Well, of course he did. Marina was very pretty. He’d be crazy not to notice.
Cat felt dizzy. How was she even supposed to respond to all of that?
“It’s because you kept referring to her as a pasta sauce.” Was he still unclear about that? “Marina doesn’t make it a habit of throwing dinnerware at people.” Cat paused, tilting her head slightly. “By the way, your nose seems to have healed normally.” Did he know?
The conversation seemed to be veering into uncertain territory for Cat, though, so she immediately steered it back to a place that felt more stable. Potions. “Ghosts don’t need to eat other ghosts. The whole point of the Draught of Ephemera is to give them a body. Although - and I do think this is important to say out loud - the potion is frowned upon. Like, it’s kind of a gross, Evil Wizard sort of thing to do. You can’t even find the ingredients anywhere.” Not that she had looked. And, if she were telling the truth, she wondered if it would be in the restricted section. “You literally use a person. To my understanding. So… more like stealing batteries that someone is actively using, rather than using a portable charger.” Was that vivid enough for you, Mr. Troll?
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★ Kindness is its own kind of magic ★ |