There had been little opportunity to dredge up past wrong-doings or events.
Not that she was complaining. If she had her way, they'd never come up at all, ever, for any reason. But repressing past events was of little good to anyone, and Penelope had first-hand experience in that.
Luckily, today was neither the time nor place for such unpleasantness.
Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, they hadn't been able to see much of each other since that whirlwind new year's eve. Between the insanity of practices by his demon captain and her own busy schedule of work, studying, and other work, there was little coinciding time in their schedules for one another. A few notes by owl, mixed with a handful of rather stolen visits which were a curious combination of strange and familiar, because it made her realize she didn't actually
know Charles Spinnet.
Penelope could count on one hand the things she'd learned about him, real things. Not included amongst those scant few items was his middle name, birthday, favourite colour or House in school. She did know his broom make of preference, which side of the hoops he favoured, exactly how he carried himself when tense, and the number of times he nervously paced before an intelligible thought could be pried from him. Surprisingly, it was all she needed. Especially today, of all days.
Today was an important game—though the words were a gross understatement. Having ultimately secured first place in the Phoenix league by just a margin of 20 points, this was the game that would determine to what advantage the Kestrels entered the play-offs, and the state of morale the team would be in. Frankly, she wasn't worried about the former so much as the latter, as she watched Charles get up and find some excuse to pace the length of his sitting room for just about the tenth time. His tension had been nearly palpable since she'd dropped by to wish him luck that morning.
Curled up on the sofa, with her chin resting in her hand, her eyes tracked his non-progress. "I could take your mind off it," she offered in a politely salacious manner that was only half joking. "If you'd let me." This had also been a small point of contention between the two of them, if largely unspoken. But only a small one, of course.
