Billie wasn’t sure to make of what she was sure was supposed to be a smile, which came after his apology, so she just smiled back before looking down to the champagne flute in her hand, shifting her weight from one foot to the other before sparing a look out to the crowd, only looking back to Miles when he began speaking to her. One of her brows lifted slightly at the mention of the Paris Cup, though it arched more when he asked her to dance in a way where he wasn’t really asking at all. That took a lot of balls, in Billie’s opinion, and she smirked.
She took another sip of her champagne, placing it down on the nearest table before turning back to Miles. She had made the decision to show up, so she wasn’t going to just stand on the side lines and act like a social leper.
She allowed him to lead her to the dance floor, trying to relax, seeing how she didn’t know much about the man she was about to dance with aside from his name, and his position on the pitch. Her hand went to his shoulder, the other placed in his as she moved to the music, following his lead.
“So…do you make it a point to only ask the girls you almost knock off their brooms to dance?” She asked with a smirk, making it known that yes, she remembered playing him in the cup, but had decided to dance with him anyway. She didn’t hold any bitterness towards him for it – it was a big game, and he was a beater. It had just been a part of the game, even if it had almost cost her life when she was hit with a bludger, and slipped from her broom, only barely able to keep herself from plummeting to the ground below by keeping hold of the handle.
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