Quote:
Originally Posted by
feeheeheeny 
Silently, unnoticed, Sophie Brown stalked her prey from the outskirts of the Great Hall at the very end of the Ravenclaw table, sizing up her victim and planning out every possible way the forthcoming interaction could go. She knew where the exits were, she knew her legal rights, she knew each and every face that was currently in the hall for breakfast that morning and was planning out just what she would say to any given person who might confront her on what she was going to do, if she was caught.
In virtually every situation she imagined, there was lots of smiling and innocent jabs of, Haven't you ever wondered what it would be like to see him being nice to people for once, though?
Eventually, when nothing in particular was happening and the entire ambiance of the room was simply ordinary, Sophie wandered over to Mordaunt with her full plate of breakfast foods in her grasp, casually took a seat next to him on the bench, set down the plate on the tabletop, then proceeded to eat a piece of unbuttered toast, her eyes glued to the Slytherin.
Ever so slowly, she leeeaned toward him and the opened Prophet, turning her gaze instead to the paper in front of him. "What's good, Mordaunt?" Their shoulders were TOUCHING. Groundbreaking.
As of this point, Cutty Mordaunt still was unsure of just how Sophie Brown was seducing her followers. It could've been any number of ways, really. Subtle hypnosis or psychological coercion. What he thought was his best theory was based around plant hormones. Maybe even...
He resisted the urge to draw away sharply as Brown leaned into him. Somehow, this made him feel dirty. Somehow. Not in a guilty manner so much as a he needed to bath soon. Something about Sophie Brown suggested, and in no subtle way, the penultimate guide to anti-repercussion. He was practically salivating at the idea of her having chose him. It was thrilling this shoulder-to-shoulder-lean-in thing she was doing. Like being picked for a perching spot from one's favourite butterfly. Or it would be if you weren't a carnivorous plant subsisting on butterflies.
Cutty cleared his throat and lifted the paper and in answer to Brown, he said, "
Oh, nothing mooch, Brown. Stock liquidations on the potions market. Looks like someone's goin' owtef business." There was the expected bit of relish to that. "
No news on the young diamond heiress who went missing years ago, either. Meanwhile someone stands to inherit her family's business." He pointed to the picture of Anneliese Erkhe, a worried looking girl clutching an empty birdcage. Restraint. Restraint. "
What brings you to the Slytherin table, Brown?"