WHO: Therese Bonaccord and AXEBANGER
WHAT: Axe is trying to recruit Therese to FIX SPINNET'S HEAD
WHERE: Kestrel Stadium!
WHEN: OH! Whenever. Today?
STATUS: Finishing in comments :D



She pushed her feet against the seat in front of her, arms tightening across her chest as a breeze whipped through Kestrel Stadium. Therese silently cursed herself for not bringing a thicker cloak, or at least a scarf, but she had once again made a poor decision. It seemed like that was all she did these days, so it should not be a surprise that she felt as if a frost was growing on her nose. When the wind stopped for those few precious minutes, however, it was easy to ignore the cold because of the constant laughter that was coursing through her.

“I refuse to answer that question,” Therese said, lifting her chin and keeping her eye on the Kestrels that were running laps around the field. They were nearly done with their fifty lap sentence, the one their capitaine had laid upon them after some smart remarks by their keeper. Said captain was sitting beside her, as of course he was immune to such punishing workouts. Therese tilted her head toward Rupert, looking amused, “Spinnet may soon be a patient of mine, it would be highly unprofessional to speculate about his conquests...”

Her eyes flitted back to the field, however. Something about how casually she was able to talk to Rupert made her toe the line with what was considered professional. Therese grinned, feeling her cheeks grow a bit red and not from the cold, “Though by looking at roster of the Harpies, I would have to say that five out of the seven would quite easily fall to his charm.”

"The remaining two being frequent visitors to the Isle of Lesbos," Axe countered, his manner somewhat disgusted. He shook his head, watching the broad frame begin a new lap with a surly expression. "We give him too much credit." But then witches (and otherwise, he remembered darkly) appeared to be more than happy to fall into his lap of late. Admittedly, Axe had never experienced the downward spiral of heart break disaster since leaving school, and that had been once in what he believed was a mild form. Evidently this was more, or his Keeper had an entirely different set of underlying issues, this split being the feather that broke the proverbial hippogriff's back. Though he kept Charlie's confidence, whatever ailed him now was beneath Axe's concern. Or rather, didn't care until they started losing, which, he smugly thought to himself, was not a problem thus far.

Of course, it would soon be the problem of the witch sitting next to him. Axe knew their management would be thrilled with the suggestion, and though he continued to openly disparage Therese's profession, and his main goal was to torture Charles Spinnet, he didn't rule out the possibility Spinnet would learn self-acceptance and become at peace with himself while discerning childhood traumas all blamed on his mother. After all, Therese was very much an acceptable person outside her office, when not spouting her head-shrinking business, largely because he pushed the topics of conversation as far away from that as possible. He liked being able to have deep, meaningful discourse after being surrounded by low-elaborating, poor executive-functioning people in his daily life. "Bell, Boot, either one, speaking of Lesbos, Bardera. Marry, shag, throw off a cliff."

He caught sight of Spinnet jogging up to Zoey, calling out then gesturing at her. Lobbing a Quaffle at his head with lethal accuracy, he cupped a hand around his mouth and bellowed, "KEEP MOVING."

Therese winced at the ‘smack’ the quaffle made against Spinnet’s face. She had never had any desire to play quidditch, and getting hit by fast moving objects was one of the main reasons why. Forget the fact that she was shit on a broomstick, Therese had not an athletic bone in her body; her pureblood mother had certainly made sure of that.

It took a moment for his statement...question...game to sink in, and Theres let out a strangled, startled sort of sound. How very vulgar, if not very surprising! She frowned deeply at Rupert, but had learned that playing along with his ways made for easier conversation than bickering. Looking back at the pitch, she put the choices into consideration. Well. He already knew far more about her sexual exploits than she would have ever liked to admit. She should not be feeling too embarassed.

“Marry Bardera, of course,” that was easy. Tristan Bardera was The Gentleman, everyone knew. “Throw both the Boots off a cliff,” Martin was too much of a fool to take seriously and she did not want to give Rupert any ammo by choosing Nicole. That was all she needed, ‘suspected lesbian’ added to her resume. Her cheeks flushed as she realized that her responses just left one question unanswered, and she straighted her shoulders, “and I suppose Bell for the last.”

He was quite handsome, but Therese didn’t give herself or Rupert the chance to react, “Troy, Cadwallader, and Brand---either one.” She turned towards him with a tight, amused grin.