WHO: Ashlyn Cooper, Christian Entwhistle, & Ingrid Catchlove
WHAT: Ashlyn makes a mistake with some big repercussions.
WHEN: Late night, Sunday
WHERE: Christian's flat

Ashlyn was feeling good. And that may or may not have anything to do with the alcohol in her system. But, you know, she couldn't help it that she was on Easter holidays and was celebrating it with her friends from home, could she? It was maybe 11 at night, and she'd just left the small muggle pub in London when she had an idea--probably not a good one, but she wasn't being very rational at the moment, was she? She wanted to go see someone...she could apparate! All she had to do was make her way over to a nearby alley and then she could figure out who she would go to visit.

Ohhhhh, she could go see Christian! Christian sounded good. He was so nice and friendly and he wouldn't care that she came over, would he? No...he'd even said himself that they needed to see each other more often...at least, she thought he had. Maybe he hadn't. But that didn't matter, because her mind was made up and before she knew it she'd apparated over to his flat. Did she even know the way to his house? Eh, didn't matter. She'd end up somewhere, that was all that mattered! But, oi, the tight, constricting feeling was not doing her much good and when she finally arrived at (hopefully!) her destination, she fell hard to her knees. "Owwwwwww, fuck," she slurred loudly, stumbling a bit before falling down onto the floor. Damn, maybe this was a bad idea...

Christian stared at the sketch set on the easel in front of him. An advertisement for a new potion, or some such nonsense... he was hardly paying any attention at all to what he was putting down on the canvas, to be honest, since all his thoughts seemed to be occupied by Ingrid. It was painfully unfair that she had to sneak away to come see him... it ensured not only that their time together was brief, but that she always had to leave. What he wouldn't give to wake up next to that girl. Setting his charcoal down to the side, his pushed the heels of his palms against his eyelids with a heavy sigh and leaned back in his chair, his vertebrae responding with a satisfying series of clicks.

However, his moment of relief was interrupted by a loud commotion coming from the other room. He jolted from the chair with a start, rushing out into the other room and nearly skidding on the hardwood floors in his socks. Bracing himself against the door frame, he observed the scenario with an expression of bewildered surprise; a redhead, collapsing onto the floor right there in his living room. "What the..." He made his way towards the girl, his entire face a masque of confusion as he recognized the down-turned features of her face. "...Ashlyn?"

It was only then that he stooped to help her up, face softening a bit as he took in her condition. "You're absolutely bollocksed," he observed, and even managed to chuckle a bit. But what the heck was she doing here?

"Heeeeeeeey Christian," she slurred out happily as he helped her stand. Ow, her knees still hurt like a bitch. She pouted a bit at that, but the frustration quickly left when she realized that, ohhh, she was with Christan. So it was okay! "So so, so...I was--I was out with my friends aaaand I thought that I should come by and saaaay," she pouted, trying to form the right words in her mind. Everything felt fuzzy. "I should come by and say helloooooooo!" she finished, a happy smile now on her face. She laughed to herself, leaning much of her on him for lack of balance.

"I haven't seen you since..." she stopped, thinking. "I haven't seen you since Februraryyyyy," she said slowly and a bit too loud. Closing her eyes tightly, she shook her head. She felt dizzy. This probably wasn't a good thing. "Can I...can I sit down? My head hurts."

"Well, hello," he said with a laugh, helping her to stand by supportively wrapping an arm around her. When she requested a place to sit, he nodded and carefully began to steer her in the direction of the couch, maneuvering her around the small coffee-table littered with books and magazines before ushering her down onto the cushions. "There we go. How did you get here?" He looked around, trying to spot the point through which she had made her entry... however, when he was unable to find one, he brought his attention back to her. "You didn't apparate, did you?" The girl was lucky she hadn't left pieces of herself back at the pub!

Sighing, he made his way to the kitchen, speaking back to her as he retrieved her a glass of water from the sink. "Not that I don't appreciate the visit, love, but you've got to be careful." He lowered himself down beside her and handed her the glass, taking her hand and curling her fingers around it for her. "Here. Don't drop it."

"Well," she said, letting the word hang in the air for a while. "I was out with my friends and...bugger, my muggle friends. They hadn't seen me in a while but they snuck me drinks at the pub annnnnd. And then I thought of you and I thought I would see you and poof!" she paused, the last word slightly higher in pitch. "I don't think I left anything. I still have my eyebrowsss, right?" she said curiously, bringing her hands up to rub at her face. Everything still felt in place...But now she was giggling at the thought of herself without eyebrows. Merlin, she'd look really really funny that way. Her hands held tightly to the glass, eyes gazing intently at it. No dropping. Dropping was bad. It was all she could focus on now. Except for maybe drinking from it. She took a long swig of the water before placing the bottom on her knee, looking over at him. "Thank you, Christian," she said with a dumb smile. He was taking care of her because he cared about her, right? If he didn't think of her as at least a decent person he wouldn't have bothered surely. "I...it's Easter break," she said slowly, looking back down at the water. "Did you know?" She thought about his hands on hers. Oh, that was a pleasant thought, the way that his fingers felt as they wrapped her hands around the glass tightly. She closed her eyes, starting to lose herself in thought. She liked how they felt.

"Yes, your eyebrows are very much in place," he assured her, fighting to keep the amusement from his tone even as he felt his lips twisting into a smile. He watched her giggle and take a concentrated gulp of water, one hand lifted to cup his chin as he rested his elbow on his knee; the other hand was poised, ready to take the glass from her should she begin to show signs of being unable to hold it by herself.

"You're quite welcome. And yes, I did know that. Ingrid was just here day before last, actually. She told me." He grinned, a closed-mouth little quirk of the corner of his lips as he recalled just what else Ingrid had done while she was there. But this was definitely neither the time nor the place, and he quickly returned his attention back to the cute red head that was currently sitting with her eyes closed on his right. "You all right?" The hand that had been so ready to catch the glass now rested lightly on her wrist, hoping to rouse her from whatever lalaland she had drifted into. "Ash?"

She was drawn out of her trance very quickly at the mention of Ingrid. Oh, ohhhhh. Right. He liked Ingrid. She pouted a bit at the thought of them back in February kissing. Boo. That was a crummy thought. "It's not fair," she said aloud, though she didn't really realize she had. Why was it that Ingrid was...was right for him but. She sighed before closing her eyes again. In a normal situation, Ashlyn would have brushed all this off. Unfortunately, her state of inebriation was not giving her one ounce of common sense. "I just...I don't see it," she said her words stretching out as she looked at his hand on her wrist before looking up at him. Oh, his eyes. And the way that his lips turned when he smiled. And his hair. It just--it looked so nice and like it would feel really nice to touch. She wanted to...she wanted to touch it...stupid glass that she had to hold, it was getting in the way!

He blinked, laughing a but as he sported a brow at her. "What's not fair?" He tilted his head slightly, lips turning inwards as she once again closed her eyes, seemingly lost in thought. Ah, underage drinking. He briefly wondered why it was that all of his friends of late seemed to be teenage girls. Not that he minded, really, but when he thought about it it was a bit depressing, really. He snorted and shook his head and carefully, very carefully relieved her of the glass. She didn't look very capable of holding onto it on her own... not without breaking it, anyway. "Well of course you don't," he said with a good-natured chuckle, "you keep closing your eyes." He leaned over and shoved an old art magazine out of the way to make room for the glass on the table, setting it down before he turned back to regard her.

Ashlyn sighed, quickly shaking her head. "No...no, it's not..." Bugger, had she said all of that out loud? Really? "I just...you love her, you know? And...I mean, I'm--I'm pretty and," she pouted as she looked over at him. "I just..." Ashlyn started to laugh. "You don't even see it, do you?" Her hand had a mind of its own, reaching out to touch his hair. He was being all nice and kind and thoughtful and--and funny. "I mean, I've known you for a few months now and...and you're...she..." her thoughts were racing. She wanted to kiss him, to prove to him that she loved him and that if he just gave her a chance that maybe he'd see that she was just as good as Ingrid and that she really fancied him and that--well, that she deserved a shot.

Oh. Bugger. His eyes went wide as her hand suddenly extended to wind in his hair, an owlish blink offered as he shifted a bit uncomfortably. What was she saying? "What?" His voice rose as incredulity laced his words. "I never said that I..." He stopped himself mid-sentence. Him... love Ingrid? Hell, he'd only been seeing her for a few months! Why was Ashlyn of all people putting words in his mouth? And why was he thinking so hard about that right now? "Ashlyn, look, I think you're... very pretty. Really." This was escalating into an uncomfortable situation. "But you're not really making a lot of sense right now," he concluded with a small laugh, fingers reaching up to gently detatch her hand from his hair.

He thought she was pretty? Well, that was decent enough. She shook her head, though. No, she was making sense. "No no no, I just...you're so...and..." she looked down at her hands. His hair had felt nice. She looked back up at him, the alcohol still controlling most of her actions. She scooted closer to him--hey, there was that whole 'if at first you don't succeed' saying going for her, right? "I think that..." her words still slurred a bit as she looked up at him. "I--I fancy you and you...you haven't even--you're with her and..." Maybe she wasn't making any sense out loud, but she knew what she was trying to say, how she felt, how much she wanted to just kiss him and make him see that she wasn't some little girl--that maybe he could fancy her back. Throwing all caution to the wind (not that she had much before), she leaned in and kissed him squarely on the lips.

It had been a very good day for Ingrid Catchlove.

Or, well, it had been a very good night, actually, because like. The day actually sucked because her attempt to go see her boyfriend had crashed and burned in a miserable heap when her mother decided to go all obsessive and usher her two youngest off for a whole day of supposed 'Easter fun.' It was something they did every year, something Ingrid usually enjoyed, but even through all the egg dying and basket filling and candy consuming, all she could think about was the fact that she was wasting time. She had a week at home. Seven days, only seven days and there she was not spending it with her boyfriend. She saw her family all the bloody time, but with Christian she had very limited encounters with, and--and--

That wasn't the point.

The point was that even though the day had royally blown, Greta had decided to be an amazing sister that night and made up for the whole thing. They were supposed to go over to Eliza's for a sleepover, but then they got over there and Greta not-so-sneakily told her that she'd cover if Ingrid wanted to leave and 'do something else' that night and shewasofficiallythebestsisterever. Anyway.

It was around 11:15 p.m. (give or take a few minutes) that Ingrid arrived outside Christian's flat. She raised her fist tentatively to knock on the door, and then--no, this would be more fun if she could surprise him, so maybe... Reaching out, she tested the doorknob, smirking to herself when the door clicked quietly open. On tip-toes and as gingerly as possible, she slid through the door and shut it again silently, then regarded her surroundings. Well, the lights were still on, and it looked like he was working on something, but she didn't--oh oh, wait, that was definitely his voice coming from the living area. But who would be coming to see him at this hour?

Just as the question formed itself in her mind, the other person in the flat spoke, and Ingrid recognized the voice instantly, smiling in a strange relief when she identfied it as Ashlyn's. Honestly, she didn't know what she had been worried about, it wasn't as if she didn't trust him or something like that. Of course, it seemed a bit odd that Ashlyn Cooper was at her boyfriend's flat, but then again now that she thought about it, Ashlyn had said something about him offering casually to make some posters for the Feminist Club, so maybe that was what it was about. Yeah, probably.

So much for surprises, though. She supposed she couldn't really sneak up on and snog him with someone else around, so relaxing her posture, Ingrid made her way over to the little archway into the room, a pleasant 'hey there' poised on her lips--

She stopped dead in her tracks.

All at once, Ingrid felt all the color rush out of her face and her eyes widen in shock--she was pretty sure her heart even stopped for an agonizingly long, slow-motion second as she took in what she was seeing. Ingrid blinked her eyes a couple times, but when a moment later it was still there, he was still--oh God, she couldn't even think it--the shock on her face quickly twisted into anger and crushing upset. When she finally spoke, making her presence known, her voice came out in a cracked whisper, laden with disbelief.

"Christian--"

He took in an audible gasp of air through his nostrils as he found his lips connected very suddenly to Ashlyn's. Merlin, what was she doing!? This was wrong. Wrong on so many level.s She fancied him!? When had that happened? Where had he been? And god, why was her mouth still on his!?

And then he heard it. THat seething whisper, a voice he knew all too well... he quickly jerked away from Ashlyn as though her skin were hot to the touch, his pale complexion coloring immediately. He was on his feet before any coherent thought could make its way to his brain. "Ingrid..." It was a miserable croak, his dark eyes wide and bewildered. Was this a bad dream? Had he fallen asleep painting again?

"Ingrid, I.... Ashlyn was... I was.... THis really isn't..." It sounded cliche and shallow even to his own ears. He grimaced, at a complete loss. There he went, fumbling with his words. Why couldn't he communicate via pictures?! He was so much better that way!

Ashlyn felt as if something had broken inside her—there wasn’t really any other way to explain it. She watched Christian in confusion as he stood before looking over and spotting Ingrid. Well, that sobered her up quite a bit. Bloody hell. “I…bugger. Ingrid, don’t—“ she felt a knot in the pit of her stomach, writhing and twisting up on her. Tears started welling up in her eyes as she realized that this was one big mistake. “He doesn’t—he didn’t do anything…” she said dumbly. She wanted to stand up and run out of his flat or just stand in general, but it didn’t seem right for her to stand up next to him. Instead she pulled her legs up and tucked them tightly into her chest. She wanted more than anything for this to be a nightmare. Maybe she would wake up at that moment back at Hogwarts in her dorm room.

No, of course not. This was real and she had to deal with what she’d just done.

Ingrid took a shaky step back as Christian got up, then another as he opened his mouth to speak, shaking her head in utter disbelief. No, this wasn't--he wouldn't, he--and after Friday, he would just--he was snogging another girl. Oh god. He was snogging another girl, and doing who knew what else and oh god. Oh god oh god oh god, she couldn't take this. This was too much, she--

Oh God.

"How could you, I--" She didn't even hear Ashlyn's words, for a second almost forgot that it was Ashlyn sitting there at all. It was already too much to handle to find out that Christian had been cheating on her, and to have to process with it that it was with one of her friends would have thrown her over the brink. No, she only--she'd deal with Ashlyn later, right now it was only him she was thinking about. "You---I--" Her thoughts were swimming, nothing coherent translating into actual words, but the tears in her eyes did well enough to let the whole world know how hurt she was.

Not knowing what else to do, Ingrid backed up further, and then stumbled slightly, turning around to start to leave. She couldn't be here another second, not in the same flat with the two of them.

"No!" The sight of her turning to go, the curve of her back... it quickly snapped him from his numbed state of mind, and he clumsily sprang into action, stumbling right over the coffee table that seperated him from her. Magazines and leafs of sketching paper toppled to the ground, and the glass of water he had fetched for Ashlyn joined them with a crash that seemed to reverberate through his entire being. "Ingrid, no, wait..." He extended a hand to gently take her by the shoulder, breathless with his growing panic. "Please don't...don't... Just..." His nostrils flared as his mind struggled to find words. Just this once, please let him be clear with his voice, just this one bloody time!

But no. As was per usual, his mind raced faster than his tongue could follow. "It was just... you came in and... it was... it was a bad... bad timing, it wasn't.... what it looked like, it wasn't that..." He took her other arm, tried to draw her to him into an embrace, begging her with his eyes, begging her to just listen, to interpret what he was trying to tell her. "...Please don't go like this...."

Ashlyn was completely past holding back her tears at that point. She’d screwed up big this time. And it didn’t matter what she said or did, she’d somehow managed to lose two friends in one stupid impulsive instant. She sat on his couch coiled up and feeling sorry for herself as he ran after her to smooth things over. And there was nothing she could do; she couldn’t just step in to defend herself because her actions were pathetic at best. But…she didn’t want to sit there and wait for the eye of the storm to hit her. Even though it was all her fault. Maybe it would just be better if she left. She wasn’t in the right state of mind to apparate; the alcohol was still in her system despite any sort of consciousness Ingrid’s abrupt entrance had given her. Unfortunately, there was no logical second option. Bugger, she didn’t need eyebrows anyways. With a loud crack, she popped out of Christian’s flat. And even though she should have gone home, she wasn’t headed to her mum’s flat in London. She needed to talk to someone about this, to get it off her chest.

The fire his touch had always ignited against her skin, the one she basked in and longed for, now burned in a completely different way. As he tried to draw her in to him, she pushed back violently, frantic to just get away, and retreated back a few more steps with the force--she hadn't realized she'd pushed that hard, but fuck it if she cared if she had hurt him. Christian Entwhistle's well-being was pretty well the very last thing on her list at the moment, and after this, she was pretty sure it wouldn't be rising from that spot ever again.

Her thoughts, as jumbled as they were, were slowly falling into place now, but instead of understanding, all it brought on was anger. A fierce rush of anger that ran like white-hot fire through her veins and it was then that she exploded, her words finding their way back to her mouth with a livid, tortured voice.

"Bad timing, Christian!?" she yelled. "Bad fucking timing!? So when was good timing to tell me that you've been screwing around with one of my friends, huh? No, you know what--I don't even want to look at you, and I definitely don't have time for your half-assed excuses." Running hands back through her hair, she laughed then, a bitter, ironic laugh through tears. She couldn't believe this, holy fuck, this had to be a bad dream of some kind. "You had better never come near me again, Christian Entwhistle. It's over."

And then, before he could protest or argue back, she took the chance to Apparate. God, Eliza and Greta were going to have some tough work on their hands tonight.