It wasn’t like Gregory Goyle to come to such events. Music blaring overtly too loud. The smell of body order from the sweaty people around him cheering for the band. The blinding lights that often left him with headaches afterwards. It just wasn’t his style nor did he ever feel particularly welcomed. Perhaps it had something to do with the rugged snarl on his face, his brows furrowed down and his dark eyes in a mean glare. He didn’t look warm and fuzzy, nor did he look like the approachable type. Although at this moment, he did look a little odd holding a stick of cloudy cotton candy that changed from blue to pink in one hand and a large mug of butterbeer in the other. His dark dementor hovering off on the side underneath a lamp post allowing the light to highlight the dark shadows on his face even more darker allowing him appear even more sinister. Witches would walk past, gripping tightly at the hands of their children as they made their way around him, trying hard not to meet his eye. Gregory was also fairly unpopular with the magical creature community, a lot of them sending him nasty howlers informing him he could not hide behind his black hooded mask, and demanding he stopped. Of course, Gregory worked for the ministry and was able to get around some of their complaints by showing them the legal paperwork and the fact that his profession is a needed one among them. Allegedly. ( Could you imagine, magical, dangerous creatures, running a muk in out streets? ) he thought to himself.
He took a bite out of the blue fluff, a tiny bit sticking to his check as it changed to pink and blue after a few minutes. This wasn’t his idea to come to this event. Anything that had to do with children or giving money to charity definitely wasn’t up Goyle’s alley. He was told by his work that it would be a good “networking” opportunity. Give witches and wizards your business card and chalk them up. Who knows? Someone could be in need of getting rid of a pest from their garden. Or perhaps a creature bit a child? ( Serves a child right…) he thought again taking a large drink from his mug. A white foamy mustache from the beer stuck to his upper lip. Gregory wasn’t also the type to come up to someone and just start talking. He normally spoke in low grunts and heavy mumbles. Plus, he also wasn’t the smartest bloke to talk to. He’d leave you with more questions than answers.
Gregory took a step forward, his body slamming into someone in front of him. He felt the grip of his butterbeer give as the mug fell to the ground, splashing his pant leg , the bottom of his cloak and onto the person he had bumped into. He felt their grip around his arm as they surprisingly caught him off guard, dragging him to the ground among the wet beer on the cold floor. His cotton candy now pressed stickily against his grey button down in a cloudy mess of blue and pink. He hissed under his breath, glancing at the person. It was a woman. Gregory’s snarled didn’t leave his face, he just blinked as she apologized to him.
“Move,” he grunted as he picked himself up off the floor, then kindly as possible he assisted the woman by lifting the woman up by her elbow easily. She was light and it did take a powerful person such as Goyle to swing a giant axe around. He helped her up before dusting himself off, his lips moving slightly as he muttered swears under his breath. Clearing his throat and running his hands against his shirt, he scoffed. “Are you alright?” He finally managed to say without his voice trembling with anger.
Had Maya been sober (an unlikely event in its entirety), her reaction may have been a bit different. A battle of two different realities – first, she was a Burke. Her father may not accept that and she may be out on her own, but she was, and that came with the notion of cowering before no one. Maya had never been one to use her name for anything, it simply wasn’t her; she cared not for fame or respect or power. She was just here to had a damn good time. Most times, she was humble and kind and had no issue apologizing to someone – especially after knocking them over.
What she normally wouldn’t do is allow someone to grumble at her the way he had and simply brush it off. Admittedly – her reaction would not have been harsh or crude; that was one of the benefits of having Alecto around. It was never required of her. It would have, however, been more along the lines of an explanation and left at that.
The second reality – she knew that face and could easily put a reputation to it. Of all the people here that she had to literally knock over, her drunk self chose Gregory Goyle. Not that it came as much of a surprise; what she did when she was like this was often something groaned about in the morning. Or chalked up to a ‘good story’, depending.
Regardless of all that – Maya was absolutely smashed, and the sight of Gregory immediately made her groan a bit. “Fuck mate, I’m so sorry about that - I’m fine, yeah, thank you.” Now that the both of them were off the ground, she was finally able to assess the full magnitude of her falling down and knew that something had to be done about it. “I’ll buy you a new drink – and that… was that cotton candy? The pink and blue stuff? I’ll get you one of those, too.”
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