Regulus merely blinked for a moment before slightly rasiing an eyebrow at Reginald’s flushed cheeks. He knew he hadn’t said anything too insulting or incriminating so it was rather hard to pinpoint why exactly had the boy’s face turned pink, but he mentally shrugged off the thought - considering the fact that he was being rather polite, it was not his worry.
A small hm could be heard before he spoke. “Yes, I suppose both teams are…plausible choices,” he said, making it sound like he thought it possible even when he didn’t. “I think I would put my money on the Montrose Magpies - or perhaps Puddlemore United as a second choice.” Montorse Magpies were the most successful Quidditch team, historically, and Puddlemore United was the oldest - and Regulus was always taught to appreciate tradition and grandeur over everything else, so his choices were not odd. Plus, Montrose’s seeker Eunice Murray was one of Regulus’ favourite Quidditch players, despite the fact she died before he was even born; she once tried to petition for a faster Snitch because she claimed it was too easy to catch it. There was something about the casual haughtiness Regulus found hilarious.
The next World Cup was not to happen for two more years and a part of Regulus told him that he shouldn’t look forward to something so far in the future - who knew what would happen by then, considering the current whispers in his family. He pushed down the voice, but still moved his concentration towards the European Cup, which would be held the following year and was somewhat of a more plausible goal as far as attendance goes.
Regulus nodded at the smile, still almost puzzled by how…cheerful Reginald seemed at all times. Still, his mind lingered at the firm handshake - his parents always taught him to pay attention to those things. Firm handshakes usually meant good, well-raised, proud. Which was a positive things usually, as they told him, but it was much easier to get what you wanted from those with limp grasps, weak, malleable.
“I hope it is a reciprocal pleasure,” he said, not unkindly with a smile - almost miniscule, but perfectly polite.
Regulus's way of speaking sounded right, the young man wasn't at all being rude yet his tone was cutting the air like a knife between them. He was a hard fellow for Reginald to read and for that reason, it made him nervous. It was an odd feeling being nervous around someone he didn't know, he was more anxious about what the boy was thinking about him. Analyzing what kind of man he is. Reginald cleared his throat.
"Right, p-perhaps. But um...I normally like Quidditch fer da fun o'it," he said rubbing the back of his neck. He inhaled a breath and smiled at the Slytherin, he shrugged his shoulders at the thought of gambling on a Quidditch team. "Dey all work well togetha as a team, I think dat's why I like'em so much," he nodded his head.
"Yeah," he muttered under his breath as they let go of their handshake. It sounded like such a weird thing to say when you meet someone. Reginald couldn't help but wonder what he meant by that. "That's kinda odd thin' ta say, yea'?" Reginald chuckled, shaking his head once more. "Never mind, forget it, perhaps I'm the one being rude," he smiled again, worried about making the young Black child angry. He already knew about Bellatrix and was lucky enough to be ignored by her since their paths never crossed, he didn't want to gain her attention by pissing off one of her family members as well.
"Were ya practicing fer Quidditch match soon or...?" Reginald asked as his voice trailed off, what else would he be doing with a broom? he thought to himself. He had just said anything at this point in hopes to change the subject.
