❝ You took a life here today. You did. The life of the party. ❞ [ hello
The air in the pub is musty and smells of sweat and beer and the sheer thickness of it is enough for him to have to hightail it outside just so he can breath. Pretending to be a muggle was proving to be more difficult than he thought ( or maybe it was just because he was doing things a bit extreme; he wasn’t of legal drinking age in the Wizarding World, but muggle Bristol had a lower age cap, and that meant drinking more than he’d meant to ). He leans against a wall beside the door and debates heading back, hand pressing against the vial of floo powder in the pocket of his trousers, when a voice startles him from his thoughts. Scorpius had been drinking with him inside... well, more like, had been in awe of how much the other could drink, but it dawns on him now that he doesn’t even know his name. “What?” He’s so lightheaded he doesn’t really process what he’s saying for a moment, and when he does all he musters is a, “oh, well, I just needed a --” He feels the vial of floo powder in this pocket again, tempted, but there’s something oddly alluring about the boy in front of him. For some reason he really wanted Tony to like him. “A smoke?” It comes out unsure, but at least that answer justifies why he was feeling at his pockets, and there were a few muggles milling around him smoking something that really stunk, “I think I dropped them, though.”











