He was unable to lift his gaze from the hand of his she'd been clinging to, wondering when the last time he had Rose Knightley was. Immediately, of course, this very day last year came to mind, and of the heated words they'd exchanged, and Octavius was promptly nauseated. Then he remembered that no, there had been an evening last November that she had come by his house…
"Probably that you were going to die," Octavius said matter-of-factly, jamming his hands in his pockets and rattling the Gobstones that sat in their depths, reminding him once again of his moronic costume. He had a name tag on and people still asked him who Roderick Kegg—he glanced down at the badge on his chest and quickly amended, Roland Kegg—was. What had he been thinking, to put on this get up?
Right, Octavius had thought it would be ironic.
Moronic, ironic. A mix-up was understandable.
"I've, er—run into one of those things once at the station," he muttered, eyes darting in the direction of the banished Boggart. "If you're not ready for them, there's a lot of pants-wetting involved." Gaze flashing back to her, Octavius stumbled to quickly say, "Not for you, I meant me. I mean—"
Wincing only minimally, he rubbed the back of his neck in slight agony. "Can we—pretend I didn't say that? You look nice. Are you sure you're all right?"
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