Quote:
Originally Posted by
redifer 
It was hard to read his expression. Best Medea could tell it was a mixture of embarrassment, uncomfortable, irritated and maybe some disappointment. The disappointment was either in himself, or that she didn’t kiss him she couldn’t tell. Nor did she care. Another one broke. Medea had a dark heart and truly enjoyed crushing people.
If she were a Muggle (Merlin forbid) it’d probably be suggested she visit some doctor named Phil and he’d tell her she wasn’t loved as a child and she had a deep rooted need for love and appreciation. Blah.blah.blah. She was happy the way she was. Bossing people around, calling the shots, scarring scaring boy-men. All in a good day’s work. If she were wearing suspenders (like she’d ever do that) she’d stick her thumbs in them and sigh with great content.
The boy-man mumbled and it caught her attention. ”Ya think so?” Medea smirked and tilted her head for a minute considering him. Her eyes questioned him. It was the first time she wasn’t inspecting his mannerisms and cautiously eyeing his every move but rather him. He was an attractive boy-man. Even though he had to be 10 years her junior. Looking back toward the vast tent full of people she continued, ”You know if you’re lucky I might allow you to buy me a drink.” Then she realized if there were a bar appeared it would be an open bar. Without looking his direction she continued, ”Or at the least I’d probably accept a drink from you if you brought it to me.” Medea, although desiring a drink badly, wouldn’t grant the boy-man the assurance she’d accept a drink from him.
Unknowingly she was wondering the same he was. Alcohol. She hadn’t had her daily allotment of firewhiskey. She had yet to see a bar let alone a bartender. How could this fat man expect them to wear these stupid blue shirts without a bartender? This was absurd. The fact was there could have been such a bartender in another part of the tent but she was not about to leave her post to find it. It wasn’t her job now anyways. She had just given that duty to boy-man. It was his mission, if he chose to accept it.
Slumping against the wall, Mason stared ahead at all the party-goers who were having such a better time than he was. They were socializing, laughing and having a good time. Mason was being cruelly traumatized by a woman in the shadows who obviously enjoyed torturing men.
No one could beat that. No one would
want to beat that.
But for some reason, Mason didn't want to leave this
mad-brained woman. He had a feeling that if he did leave, his life would be so much more boring than it would be here. Lurking in the shadows. Next to a woman who was now analyzing him. He could tell. He glanced over at her as she was scanning him
with her laser eyes. Mason quickly looked away and took a sip out of his water cup. Which was empty.
Okay, what?! Buy her a drink? Lucky? Those words did not mesh well together. Although Mason would do anything for a good drink right then, he had a feeling she was up to something.
"There's no alcohol here. I already checked. Everywhere." Mason said dully. Plus, she probably just wanted to get him drunk so she could embarrass him even more. Which would definitely happen because Mason did not make a good drunk person.
"But believe me, if I wasn't trying to make a good impression by being here, I'd be headed up the street towards the Leaky." Speaking of, when did this shin-dig get over? He was ready to leave. And get a drink.
He shoved one of his hands in his pocket and twirled his plastic cup in the other. This was truly boring. Leaving wasn't such a bad idea...