Lyra was genuinely trying her best to feel normal again. A lot of the time she was locking herself away back at the Manor again or taking extra hours at work, but every now and then she'd manage to bring herself to go out with friends who made her feel less alone. It was impossible to be miserable when one spent their time with Theo, and he only further proved that when he came up with his idea. She smiled softly to herself. "You're definitely leading then– the umbrella truly beats all," Lyra did her best to fall in line with his lead. She brought the straw of her own drink to her lips, sipping and immediately pulling a face, "Sheesh– mine is sour. I don't hate that but I wasn't expecting it to be that pungent," she admitted, laughing a little as the flavor buzzed on her tongue. "What are you going to give yours? Mine doesn't have an umbrella but it's a pretty purple so... mine's gonna have be like a seven point five out of ten."
Theo straightened in his chair, posture suddenly regal as he lifted the glass delicately by the stem, sniffing at it with exaggerated seriousness, eyes fluttering half-shut as though deciphering the mysteries of life itself.
“Ah yes… notes of… sugar syrup. And… is that… lime?” His brows furrowed in deep concentration, as if he’d just cracked open an ancient grimoire, slipping into a pompous drawl. “No, no, wait. It’s definitely lime. Zesty. Refreshing. Like the ghost of a citrus fruit who died tragically young.” He swirled the cocktail like it was a prized vintage, then took the smallest possible sip. He let it linger on his tongue far too long before swallowing, smacking his lips together lightly in a pretentious little gesture, as though weighing the fate of the world on that taste alone.
“The balance,” he declared in his poshest critic’s voice, “is surprisingly adequate. One might even call it… drinkable. If you close your eyes, it’s almost as though you’re reclining under palm fronds, listening to waves crash upon the shore, when in reality, you’re being charged eight galleons for fancy fruit juice with an umbrella stuck in it.” He set the glass down with theatrical finality, the umbrella twirling once between his fingers before he tucked it neatly behind his ear. “I declare it… an eight point nine out of ten. And that’s mostly for presentation. Because let’s be honest,” his grin broke through, eyes glinting, "the umbrella does all the heavy lifting.”
