James cringed as the woman gingerly applied some sort of ointment to a nasty scrape on his chin. “Sorry, miss.” He muttered as he clenched his eyes shut, enduring the stinging pain to the best of his ability. “I’m not sure what I was thinking.”
The young man remained silent as he continued to be treated. The haze of the alcohol has caused the fight between him and a rivaling quidditch player, but the force and aggression used was agreeably uncharacteristic. “I’m alright ... Just a bit out of sorts recently, I suppose.” The words slurred from his mouth, his body still off its equilibrium.
mmmcgonagall









