Blunt was a good word for Rachel, as was coy. And while the two seemed like opposites, Rachel often effectively united them in a somewhat infuriating display of smugness. Verbal foreplay, her method of conversation had been called on more than one occasion, and while she turned her nose up at the term, it had to be said that it was an honest description. "I suppose you're right--too often we forward thinkers are shunned for our alien beliefs that are, in actuality, miles ahead of the rest of the populous. To think, you'll only appreciate me and my modern sense of fashion when I'm dead and gone." The look she gave him was one of pure exasperation, but this seemed to be an age-old debate between the two, and Rachel was positive she'd provoked him into coming to the next social event in naught but a makeshift burlap robe. She'd tackle that mess when they came to it, but was not above turning him out on his ear. Caradoc's company was thoroughly enjoyable, of course, but nothing excused a poor wardrobe.
Except, of course, she did find his shoes passable. At least they weren't clogs.
"Mackenzie, on the other hand," she began, clearly going nowhere good with this subject as she thought back to the ring on the Slytherin girl's finger, and what a stir it had been causing, "appears to be perfectly dressed for the occasion, and I don't simply mean with clothing. Tell me, do you hear spring wedding bells, or do you find winter much more suitable to your tastes?"
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