Yule Ball || Holland and Milo
Milo was all smiles when he walked into Professor Thornwood's office for his detention that Saturday. It was the week before the Yule Ball, and he had...plans.
The Professor was at his desk as usual, quill in hand and feather brushing the scruff on his jaw. Whatever he was doing, he was concentrating on it pretty hard, and that...that wasn't gonna fly.
"Hey, Professor. T-Wiz. Holly Hexer." He stopped when Professor Thornwood cut his eyes up at him, that sort of 'tried patience, exasperated, why-do-I-put-up-with-you' look he wore about ninety percent of the time. "I'll keep at it," he promised. Nicknames were an art, not a science; he'd get it eventually.
"So, Yule Ball's in a week," he went on, reaching out to put a hand flat over the parchment Professor Thornwood was working on when he started to look back down at it. He didn't think it was too much to ask for five minutes of his undivided attention. "All the professors have to go, right? Chaperon, make sure nobody dances too close or spikes the punch - good luck with that, by the way." Like he said, he had plans. For the latter, not the former that is. Although.... "How does that work, exactly? Do Professors have dates? Or do you just sort of...stand there like horklumps?"
It wasn't the first time he'd asked about it. He'd been posing the odd question here and there all week. Are you required to go to the Yule Ball? Do you have a proper dress robe? Is it leather, too? (He was half convinced at least a quarter of Thornwood's wardrobe was those leather vests he was always wearing). It was only just now, though, that he'd gotten around to asking whether or not he would be flying solo for the evening.