Quote:
Originally Posted by
ImAGrape 
Pierre could tell that his smirks were bugging Evan. That was just how Pierre was. He loved to smirk and roll his eyes. He had cut down on the eye rolling because of Lawson, but his smirks weren't going anywhere. He couldn't understand what was so wrong with a person just from liking a certain football team. He had never had to tell with that at Beauxbaton's.
Pierre caught the ball, nearly missing it this time. He kicked it back and forth between his feet and then shot it back up to his head. He was getting better and it was showing. "Um, I actually believe that they were playing Chelsea." He kicked the ball back. It was at about the height of Evan's stomach. He hoped that he would be able to stop the ball before it hit him in the gut.
Wow, guy was getting better. Evan was
almost impressed. But no Manchester United could impress him. He was better than that.
Only Van der Sar might be nice... and Rooney... and Berbatov, Nani, Evans, Ev--NO. Ahem.
Hmpf. It had been a Chelsea match, is it? It was really hard to keep calm now.
"Where, though? At Old Trafford, or Stamford Brigde? If it was at Stamford Bridge," his lips curled into a very, very delighted and also annoying smirk
"I'd like to remind you that we've won." Ha! He didn't want to comment on Old Trafford matches though, and he didn't want to think he'd probably gone to Old Trafford. Naah.
He moved a bit back so that his foot could meet the ball again. He did more complicated kicks now on his knees, shoulders and head. He wouldn't lose it to a Devil. Never.