 ∞ 17 | RP entrepreneur | defies gravity | Miss George is flawless | blanket burrito lyfe
If there was a day that Tristan was going to be sick, then this was it. He was probably going to be mid-flight and upchuck his entire weeks worth of food over the pitch. Of course, that would get him a job offer or a swift kick to the shins. Hell, he'd spend the rest of his life wishing to lose his legs in some sort of horrible accident in reaction to acting like an absolute dinkydonk in front of professionals. His life would be over and he'd have no actual way to rectify it without going into hiding. Would he be able to take Charlie and Turner with him? He wasn't sure he'd be able to last without them both.
Those were actually the only two people he had told about today.
If he told Little Rob, Nova or his family they'd have freaked out and been here watching and screaming and he's never live it down.
After making sure he had his lucky underwear on, he had made his way to where he needed to be, and made sure that there were no urges of sick, tummy bugs or whatever else could go wrong with his bodily functions. He had this. Tristan knew he was talented on a broom. He hadn't been Captain or even scouted to attend the British Quidditch Academy for no reason. He was a seeker. The best that had attended the Academy. He was going to do fine and whether this got him an offer or not, it didn't matter.
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