status: open where: the black lake, parkinson's party
truth to be told, roman wasn't taking the other person seriously nor was he particularly listening to their angry rant; they did seem upset at him, though. the lestrange did tend to have that effect on people and sometimes it brought him great pleasure. " did you know -- " he began, now keeping eye contact and paying attention, suddenly switching from distracted and nonchalant to suave. " your eyes look even prettier when you're angry. "
Cara shouldn’t have come here. She didn’t want to be here — not really, anyway. Enticed only by the promise of a good time and better libations, she was quick to discover that neither were to be found within the vicinity. She was just about to depart when she had heard the exchange take place behind her. Nobody had asked for her input, and they surely wouldn’t want it. But, Cara being who she was, she was going offer it anyway, no holds barred. ❝ It’s clearly not her eyes you’re looking at, you fuckin’ gobshite.❞ If her tone didn’t clearly communicate her utter disdain, her pointed demeanor certainly did. ❝ Do you really think anyone would be so thick as to believe that utter bollocks, or are you even more dense than you look? ❞