(1937-12-23) Hexed Hats and Sticky Situations
Details for Hexed Hats and Sticky Situations
Summary: Eibhlin makes a poor judgement call and faces down some brutal honesty… to a successful end?
Date: December 23rd, 1937
Related: Sweets For The Sweet, Project Eagle Radio: Almost Done, Study Date, Making Fun A Required Subject

Jackson has taken his time over the Holiday vacation to exercise his talents for entertaining the drunken masses. He stands precariously upon two barstools scooted closer together, with a hat enchanted to sing harmony sitting between his legs on a third barstool, receiving tips with semi-regularity. The crowd is gathered in front of him at the various tables. He is carrying a frosted mug of butterbeer in one hand, swinging it from side to side to keep the rhythm of the song he is singing in a loud voice, "When God made father Adam, sure He laughed and danced and sang! / And He sewed up Adam's belly with a little piece of wang. / Now when the job was over, God said, "I've measured wrong!" / For when the Wang was knotted, it was just a bit too long. / Its but eight inches long, said He, I guess I'll let it hang," / And He left on Adam's belly, that little piece of wang."

People are starting to look around, discussing the content of the song and its potential meaning. One even goes so far to say 'It's a muggle delicacy. I like wang.' He is quickly shooshed as that makes no sense in context. They continue listening raptly.

Perceiving the talking as enjoyment, Jack continues "And when it came to Mother Eve, it fairly made Him smart, / for when the wang was knotted, it was just a bit too short. / "It leaves an awful crack said He, but I don't give a dang, / She can fight it out with Adam for that little piece of wang."

Gabrielle sneaks in, and upon seeing Jackson doing…whatever it is, shakes her head. She's still not sure what happened, and having not talked to him yet, doesn' want ti interupt his….song? She'll motion to the nearest barmaid and hand her what appears to be an order on a piece of paper. she'll slink back into a corner to wait, trying to make herself look as unnoticeable as possible.

It's been a muddled few days for Eibhlin. The chocolates are out of her system and when she thinks about Dale, everything is a little hazy. She can't figure out just why that is, either. Then Donovan has entered the picture and made things even -more- confusing. She's tried spending time in the library, but she cannot focus on anything. The redheads slouches into the Broomsticks, the lyrics slowly entering her attention and as they sink in… she turns a bit red. Muggle enough to get their meaning. When she spots the singer, a few expressions cross her features. Ambling her way towards a table that'll be visible from the door, she slides her wand out and murmurs a spell in the direction of the hat on the stool in front of Jackson. The poor hat has no chance, having never taken any defensive courses. It's knocked off and away, likely throwing off the harmony. Evie, being a student, still isn't talented enough to cast sans wand, so the keen observer is like to notice.

"And ever since that glorious day when human life began, it's been a constant—" Jackson is cut off abruptly by the harmony making hat, as well as his tip money, is thrown off the stool and scattered all over the place. Jack peers towards Eibhlin, the witch not quite skilled enough with silent casting to get one past the notorious troublemaker, with an accusatory look. Jackson then looks in the direction of the scattered money, just seeming… deflated. He shakes his head once, then hops off the stool, much to the confusion of the patrons. He replaces all three of the stools in their proper position at the bar, then bends over to start hunting after the fallen coinage as the hat just sits there unattended.

Gabrielle looks up as Jackson abruptly stops his song, half expecting him to be being thrown out. She'll make a frowning face as Jackson starts picking up his coins and will glance over towards wherehe's glaring….oh.Perfect.Can this day get any more uncomfortable? Gabby will glance around, and seeing a few of Jack's cools that ro;;ed under a near by table, she'll crouch down to try to retrieve them.

Oh. Oh bloody hell. Here Eibhlin had just been thinking it was some obnoxious hat. It's not like anyone dropped a tip in it since she'd walked in. The redhead turns a bright red and slouches into a seat at the table she's chosen. "Maybe if he'd been singing something… /anything/ else," she mumbles to herself, making excuses for herself to try to feel marginally better. Unfortunately, she's just too embarassed at this point to even try to make up for it yet.

As usual, Dale's timing is perfect. -ly awful. The door to the little tavern swings open, a jaunty whistle preceding the whistler by a second, and there he is. Dressed in non-uniform clothing for a change, he wears work trousers and scuffed black boots, topped by a warm but somewhat tatty woolen coat. His eyes drift around expectantly, noting Gabby and Jackson with a curious frown, but lighting on the slouched Eibhlin, and he shifts his course in her direction. "Oi, Evvie," he says easily. "Alright?"

Jackson glances up towards Gabrielle from picking up coins and stuffing them in his pocket to move over to the table Gabrielle is under to swoop down and take up the coins himself. He shakes his head and asks tensely, "Please don't do that?" He then adds, "Please go sit down. I'll take care of this." He's almost pleading, "Please?" He continues to scoot around on a knee, much to the chagrin of the patrons of the Three Broomsticks. That same chagrin does not extend to Jackson himself, or at least not that he's showing.

Gabrielle looks up as Jackson swoops down and grabs the coins before she can. Her expression goes from nervous to upset as he turns away and she'll slowly make her way over to a chair by the wall. She'll place her hands in her lap and will start playing with the hem of the right sleeve of her jacket. she'll keep her eyes on the door to the kitchen.

"I'm a damned idiot," Eibhlin mutters to Dale as he approaches. She's flopped down without even removing her cloak and pulls it tighter about her. "Potter was singing some utterly… bawdy tune and he had this hat singing, too… So I knocked the hat off the stool and it had all his tips in it." Her voice is kept low, but the pitch changes as she's clearly quite bothered by it all. "I… if I'd -known- it wasn't just some annoying hat, I wouldn't've done it." Any trepidation she may have had at seeing Dale goes out the window as she now spills what she's done to her fellow Ravenclaw.

A light frown creases Dalaigh's forehead, and he glances toward Jackson again briefly, before sliding into the booth next to Eibhlin. His arm automatically slides to the back of the bench, so it's behind her as he leans close to speak softly. "Ye dinnae mean it, lass, obviously. Did ye let him know that?"

Jackson stops, having picked up most of it. He turns his head left and right, looking over the ground once again to ensure he has got them all. He frowns, because it dawns on him that they really scattered and there's no way to really cover this area. He stands, his head lowered as he glances towards Gabrielle. He frowns slightly, then walks towards her. He slides to a knee next to her, resting his elbow on his knee, "I'm sorry. I didn't want you down on the floor chasing someone's leftover coinage. You're so much better than that." He puases for a moment, gesturing over his shoulder, "I'm going to go over to Zarkiss's to see if they'll take me on for the holiday. It's considerably harder for someone to knock over a payroll cheque."

Gabrielle looks from the kitchen door to Jackson, her hand immediately pulling away from her right sleeve, "It's….I was just trying to help….I'm not any better than you…."She'll nod at the Zarkiss idea, "That's probable for the best….I'm sorry she did that.She shouldn't have." It's clear Gabby is refering to Eibhlin with the she. Gabby'll take a deep breathe, "Madame Lunaris has me running around doing her pick ups…I think I"m going to be very familiar with Hogsmeade by the end of the break." She'll even give Jackson a small smile at the end.

"I meant to knock over the hat," Eibhlin says in reply to Dalaigh, voice pitched low. "Shouldn't've done it, I just… he's /so/ ridiculous, Dale. And to be singing stuff like that…" Really, though, Jackson was just a convenient outlet for Evie's own foul mood. She slouches more in her seat as she spots the Gryffindor make his way towards Gabby, seemingly trying to hide in place. She mumbles a few choice swears in Irish-Gaelic.

Understanding the Gaelic she uses, Dalaigh's brows lift slightly, in light surprise and not so light amusement at her choice. But his hand moves to rest lightly on her shoulder and his face sobers quickly. His voice is just as low, words not really carrying, "So say sorry?" Sure, he's seen her in bad moods before, having been at Hogwarts with her for this long, but now he doesn't want her to be in a bad mood.

Jackson works up a quickly fading smile, "You, I, and everyone knows that statement is patently false." He listens for a moment, glancing over towards Eibhlin for a moment and then turning back to Gabrielle, "People do mean things to each other all the time. I'm sure she has very little reason to be concerned about a few knuts in a hat." The end result of Jackson's few hours of busking in the Three Broomsticks. He clears his throat, his eyebrows creeping up his forehead as he looks suitably impressed, "That's great, Gabrielle! Is she helping you out with your own fortune telling?"

Gabrielle will roll her eyes at Jackson, "That's just wrong." She'll smile again, "I've done my fair share of chasing coins on the ground." Gabby will glance over to Eibhlin and frown, remembering something, "I…I don't know about that, but it /was/ mean, and she shouldn't have… Especially since she's a prefect." She'll move a stray lock of hair behind her ear, "Well, she said she'd watch me do a reading or two, and if she was impressed, she'd let me do some real ones."She'll smile, "Although with as much running as I'm doing…I don't know if there will be any time….Did you know we have a pastie shop here? It smelled heavenly!"

It's not like Eibhlin's never swore before. Especially being a language nut. She just saves the really good ones for non-English. Easier to get away with around figures of authority. The redhead looks over towards Jackson again and gives a shake of her head, hair flipping about a bit. Maybe even over Dale's arm, since it's behind her. He's got red on him. "Maybe later," she decides, voice pitched low. "When Gabby's not around." Because it's easier to let the other Ravenclaw be mad at her with distance than to face her directly.

Dalaigh sighs softly, nodding his head. His fingers tap lightly where they rest on her shoulder, and he ducks his head to look at her. "We could go take a walk, if ye'd like," he offers hopefully. Anything to be able to cheer her up a bit.

And then there was snow, no snow earlier, snow now… go figures. Donovan comes in, and shakes the snow off himself, teenagers and dogs are a lot more similar than they'd have you believe. He then glances around the room looking to see if there is anyone he knows about.

Jackson frowns, "Well, just because someone is a prefect doesn't make them any less of a human being." He then gives a low chuckle, "Yes, I know we have a pastry shop. I've been there a time or two." He then stands, "I'm going to go catch the manager of Zarkiss' before they close. See if I can set it up to start tomorrow." He adds, "I'll see you later, alright?" With that, he stands and begins heading for the door.

Gabrielle shrugs , she knows, but kinda feels like the title should man something. "Oh…ok. Good luck." And after a moment she'll nod, "Ok….later." She'll watch him leave with a slightly confused look on her face, then shake her head and go back to watching the kitchen door.

As Jackson leaves, Eibhlin watches him go. Frowning. She sighs and sinks slightly against Dalaigh, but the gesture doesn't last long. There's Donovan shaking snow off of himself and she sits up straighter, turning red. "Oh Merlin's britches," she murmurs, hand clapping over her mouth. Blue eyes dart from the Gryffindor to the Ravenclaw next to her. She looks immensely torn for the moment and a bit like she might want to sink into the floor. What's the charm for that?

With his attention almost fully on Eibhlin, Dale notes Jackson's departure vaguely, and not the arrival of anyone else into the establishment. He moves his hand to lightly brush Evie's hair back from her cheek, but frowns at her soft words and pulls back. "Sorry, Evie, did I pull ye'r hair?" But then he registers her flickered glance, and he turns to look over his shoulder. At Gallagher. Then back to Evie, puzzled.

With his characteristic grin Donovan approaches the table with the other fifths, "Heya, Coch, O'Hara, Evans." He says with a nod to the respective personages as he does. He snakes a chair out and then plops himself down, "How's it going?"

It's a new shade of red that Eibhlin's turning. Not a flattered blush, no. An utterly appalled sort of blush. She's trying to sink into the bench, but it only presses her more into Dalaigh's shoulder. "Ye didn't pull my hair," she mumbles to her fellow Ravenclaw, but then Donovan is joining them at their table. Gabby isn't too far away, but seems focused on the kitchens. The redhead kind of chokes out a greeting, voice strained. "Gallagher."

Gabrielle looks up from her chair against the wall and will wave and throw Donovan a small smile. She'll stop her staring at the kitchen, but will go back to playing with the hem of her right sleeve on her jacket.

Dalaigh is not yet experienced in the games of the heart, and doesn't quite get why Evie looks even more uncomfortable. As they're joined by the Gryffindor and he offers out greetings, Dale's is returned in the form of a nod and a fairly pleasant, "Gallagher. Nae gone home for the hols?" Which is a pretty obviously question, but hey, Dale went home and just came up to visit, so. A concerned glance goes toward Eibhlin even as the Irish gypsy lets his arm straighten again to rest behind the red-haired Prefect.

Being one of two that is actually "in the know" as to why Eibhlin's reacting like this, Donovan reaction seems a little more bent towards humor. "Nah, just came up for a few days, This place is just about as much home as London is… going to Wales for the Tornado's exhibition match on Boxing day though. What are your plans?" He asks the other quidditch player.

Since nothing of it has come up yet, Eibhlin starts to relax. Her breathing is still a bit quickened from the sudden flood of adrenaline, but she clutches at the cloak she still hasn't removed as she starts to relax. "How long are ye here for, Dale?" Maybe she can keep things on safe subjects. Avoid the risk of That being brought up. "I'm gonna order some buttebeers and grab a menu." She slides out of the booth then, finally removing the cloak — and revealing her sensible blouse and skirt beneath — as she escapes for a moment to the bar to make the order.

Dale moves so Evie can get out, not given much of a choice as to whether he'd get her drink for her, having barely a chance to get out an "Oi…" before she's on her way. She gets another puzzled look, but Dalaigh slides back to sit, looking across at Donovan. "Same as always," he says with a light shrug and a good natured smile. "Family. We'll all be back home in Quinnland. Always a big celebration." Usually going on for days.

Gabrielle notes the add behavior of Eibhlin, but won't say anything. She's not quite sure if she could hold her tongue enough to. A waitress comes out of the kitchen and is holding some kind of to go order. She'll glance around and start making he way to Gabby, who will stand. this puts the waitress on an intercepting course with Eibhlin.

Peering at the two girls as they desert the table Donovan leans in closer to Dale, "Did I miss some sort of fight?" He asks with a furtive glance at skirted legs and a to go box. As he does so he shrugs out of his jacket and throws it around the back of an empty chair. A bit of snow is left in his hair, not quite melted yet.

Nope, no chance for Dalaigh to make the order. Eibhlin needs a moment to breathe. The teen is, thankfully, actually being moderately observant for once. Just not in the proper way. She comes across a couple sickles on the ground from Jackson's tipped hat and side-steps away to pick them up. No collision with the waitress that exits the kitchens, thank Merlin. The redhead grabs up the coins and makes her way to Gabby, not looking at the girl as she thrusts her hand out. Sometime in the process, she's added a pair of knuts to the amount also. Yes it might be suspicious that she found not one, not two, but four coins in one spot. She doesn't care. "Tell 'im I said sorry," she mutters, dropping the coins on a table near the other girl. Then it's back off to the bar in a rush to purchase drinks, too embarassed to stick around for a reaction.

Dale's eyes drift to Eibhlin, watching the girl veer her path, then go say something to Gabrielle. His brows lift at the question to Donovan, though he doesn't look across to the other boy. "Somethin' wi' Evie an' Jackson. I only caught th' end." And there always seems to be something weird between Evie and Gabrielle, so that doesn't even get a mention.

Gabrielle jaw tightens as the coins are dropped to the table, she'll look to Eibhlin, and open her mouth to say something, but snaps it closed when the girl runs off. She looks annoyed and her jaw is still tight but will turn and try to put on a smile for the waitress who hands her the to go order. Gabby'll thank her and start to to turn to leave, pausing only to take the coins with a shake of her head. She'll nod to the two boys as she passes.

"Ahh, well, girls will be girls I suppose." Donovan says as he leans back in his chair, pondering, "Fancy anything to eat?" He asks Dale as he glances over towards the menu. Waving at Gabby as she leaves, "Later Evans. Happy Christmas." He calls as she walks out.

When Eibhlin returns to the table, it's struggling under the weight of three large butterbeers. She sets them down with a sudden exhale of air and a bit of an "Oof." She waves Dalaigh to scoot over, sliding in next to him once she's able to. Tucked under her arm is a menu, which she drops onto the table. "Ye around until this evening, Dale? Or ye gotta leave early?"

Dalaigh moves to stand at once, reaching to help Evie with the weight of the butterbeers, before obediently sliding into the booth before the redhead. He also gives an absent wave to his departing housemate, echoing "Happy Christmas, Gabby." Donovan's question is answered with a nod to the menu, "I might get a bite, yeah. I've come down with my brother Kenny," is his reply to Evie, "So we'll be a few hours. He's got a bird here that he keeps quiet about."

"Thanks." Donovan says as Evie hoists off the third butter beer, he actually looks a little surprised that it's there, he tips the mug up. And peruses the menu.

Wrapping her hands around her butterbeer, Eibhlin takes a long drink, listening to Dale's reply. She nods slightly, grinning a bit as she sets it down. Apparently, since no one has mentioned That, she's able to relax a bit. "Well that benefits ye then. How's the family? Colton driven anyone nutters yet?"

Dalaigh tips off a good half of his butterbeer in one long pull, absently lifting the back of his hand to wipe at his lips as the glass is lowered back to the table. Eibhlin's grin draws his own back out, relieved that the departure of Gabrielle seems to have eased her mind. "Everyone is grand." Her question of Colton gets a laugh, and a light nudge of his shoulder to hers. "Lass, if that was goin' tae happen, would have long since done," he jokes easily.

"I'd be surprised about Gryffindor not being driven nuts, but they've got the likes of Jackson to deal with too," Eibhlin says, taking another sip of her butterbeer. "Not to mention Gallagher here." There's a glance across the table to the other teen. Almost wary, but not quite as she's moving on. "Glad yer family's doing well. Ye got any good gifts yet? Or they all saved for Christmas day?"

Dale seems to have forgotten the other boy, or is trying to, with his attention focused on Evie. "Nothin' yet. We do a few this evenin', an' then the rest on the day." His head tilts as he regards his pretty housemate. "Ye doin' alright here, Evie?" The question comes with obvious concern for her happiness.

Donovan has been perusing the menu, with a grin at Eibhlin's jab at Gryffindor he shrugs, "Who says they aren't? I wouldn't know… being as how I'm one of the contributing sources…" He winks at Evie, "None here either, but I," he pauses for a moment, "We, try to keep them for the day itself. What about you?"

"I'm doing fine," Eibhlin insists. She is, technically. Her problems have nothing to do with the holidays. She turns her butterbeer mug in her hands, glancing up to Donovan as the Gryffindor speaks up. "Ah, I don't know. My mum is visiting with her cousin and they're all Muggles. I might have to wait until after the holidays to get any gifts she's got for me." This is a normal thing, though, when she doesn't go home. To have to wait for things to come her way. There's no Muggle postman visiting Hogwarts anytime soon.

Dalaigh smiles a bit, knowing that Evie will get at least one gift before the holiday, and he absently stretches his arm out again, behind the girl along the bench. "D'ye know what ye want, Evie?" he asks, nodding toward the menu.

"I could pick it up for you if you'd like? I'm doing a fair bit of traveling this holiday anyway." Donovan suggests after another sip of his butterbeer. He glances down at the menu as Dale reminds him that he was supposed to have decided what he wanted by this point. Well, what he wanted that was on the menu anyway.

When Dale puts his arm across the back of the bench behind her, Eibhlin looks a bit flustered again. She releases her butterbeer to shift the menu towards the center of the table. At least she doesn't snatch it away, just makes it more accessible for all. "I'm not all that hungry," she murmurs, trying to tune out the world (and likely failing) as she tries to decide what to eat. "Ye wanna split something?" Unfortunately, she forgets to make it clear who she's talking to.

Of course, Dale assumes it's him. She's totally in love with him, right? "Sure, if ye wanna, lass." He's not about to argue, and he'll be fed plenty as soon as him and Kenny are home again if he doesn't get enough here. He looks across at the Gryffindor. "What about ye, Gallagher?"

As Dale beats Donovan to the acceptance the taller boy's lips curl up in a slight smile and he shakes his head. "What have I gotten myself into?" He rhetorically asks in Welsh as he studies the menu, "Yes… I think I'll have some Shepard's pie." He adds in English.

Blue eyes dart to Donovan as he speaks in Welsh. Eibhlin clearly understands, but she doesn't comment on it. Instead her brow furrows a bit. She leans back a bit. Into Dale's arm. Oops. "Uhm, ah… how about…" she stammers a bit more, "the, uh, fish and chips?" Something safe, a good finger food, and everyone likes it. Usually.

Dale's smile grows as Evie sits back, not paying any attention to anything said in Welsh. "Tha' sounds grand, lass," he says agreeably, looking up from the menu to attract the attention of a server to draw them over. He orders for himself and Evie, including two more butterbeers, and lets Donovan place his order. Dale reaches out for his half full mug, and drains off the rest, since he knows replenishment will be coming soon.

A good tactician knows never to fight when the foe has superior ground, Donovan concedes this particular battlefield for the time being. "So, I was in London a day or two ago, met a lady that will be doing our OWL examinations." Donovan dangles one of those low hanging fruits Evie is sure to be interested in.

He also asks the waitress for some water and the Shepard's Pie.

Finishing the butterbeer? It is a good time for that. Eibhlin still has a fair bit left, but she's making a go of it. It's a distraction at least. Donovan's lure does indeed work and she swallows her last gulp quickly, setting the mug down. "Did you? Did she share any details? What should we expect? Are there any new quill regulations?" As if a Gryffindor would know these things…

Dale lets his mug thunk lightly to the table, his eyes taking a cast of fond amusement as Evie starts questioning Donovan. He's gotten used to this from just about every one of his yearmates, especially those in his own studious house. It's useful to him, though, because he can get a lot of information without asking a lot of questions. So he lets her grill the other boy.

Blinking at the barrage of questions, Donovan holds up a hand and begins ticking off responses. "Yes, Yes, a test, Does that matter?" He answers the questions in order… he thinks. "Wait, did you ask about the quill before or after the what we should expect?"

"Of course I know it's a test, but they mix it up some years. So that we can't get the sixth years to reveal any specifics." Because the proctor is going to. Eibhlin has to try, though. "Well, I heard that… three terms ago, they disallowed candy quills from being brought in because of tests being turned in sticky." Thanks Hufflepuff. "I wanted to be sure no other changes were made, just in case. I'd /hate/ to lose points on a technicality." And if she knows in advance, she can prepare better!

The girl that can't go a Hogsmeade weekend without replenishing her own candy supplies, coming down on the poor Hufflepuffs. For shame, Evie. It actually makes sense to Dalaigh, who wants sticky test papers? Looks like he might be a Ravvie after all. "Aren't they supposed t' let us know any changes like tha' before the test?" he asks.

See, this is why Donovan is a Gryffindor, he barely even worries about the tests let alone what kind of quills you bring into it. "No, she didn't say anything about changing quill requirements… but…" He trails off as something catches his attention over near the bar and he looks away from his tablemates for a minute. "Where was I?"

"They only tell us a day or two beforehand," Eibhlin complains, fussing with her mug a moment. She lifts it to finish the rest, setting it down and off to the side. To make room for the next one, of course. "I don't want to be rushed in case I've got to get all new quills!" She blinks at Donovan, "You… were telling us that she didn't say anything about the quills. Did she say… /anything/ about the tests?"

The server brings over a round of butterbeers, setting them onto the table. Dalaigh reaches to draw one toward himself and slide another closer to Evie. And she's right back into him with the exam questions. Dale's patient. He can wait for her to get the information she wants. His grin is hidden by a long pull from the fresh butterbeer.

"Of course she talked about the test, what else would we talk about?" Donovan asks, purposefully avoiding answering the question with a grin, seeing the nervousness seep out of Evie brings that mischievous glint back to his eyes. He takes his water from the waitress when she brings it.

The look that Eibhlin levels on Donovan is positively /baleful/. It's an easy way to fix her mood, yes, but it doesn't draw her away from that issue of the OWLs. It's a different kind of stress, but right now she's not even fully thinking about it. At least the studying aspect. "What /of/ the test did you talk about?" She glances to Dale and murmurs a thanks for the butterbeer, putting her hands about it.

Dale nods to Evie's thanks, getting comfortable and letting the girl go on.

Deciding that she's had enough… and not particularly wanting that glare aimed at him. Donovan finally answers, "Yeah, she said she's be coming to school to answer any of your questions and to have study groups with the students." He says it quickly so as to fend off any more glares. "You should be able to ask her all the questions about wand regulations you want."

The expression that Eibhlin bears now is one of disbelief. Aimed at Donovan still. It is, though, not a glare. Lucky him. "Why couldn't you have just said that in the first place?! I'll need to make a list of what I want to ask and what I'll need to study." She elbows Dale lightly. "We ought to see if there'll be a Transfiguration study group." Because he'll want to study with other people now.

Well, it's not that Dale wants to study with a group, but they didn't really get a lot accomplished when they studied alone. So he nods agreeably, "Aye, we'll look inta' that, lass." He glances aside toward the kitchen, wondering where their food is.

With a frown, Don glances over at the clock and stands up in alarm, he does manage to bite off slightly less than the first half of a Welsh curse before he remembers Evie speaks it. "Sorry… I need to go." He digs in his pocket and pulls out a few coins and tosses them on the table, "That… should cover it." He says as he pulls on his jacket, he pauses, as he does, feeling for an inside pocket and then pulling out an envelope. He tosses it up and it flips up and around floating through the air in a hap hazard way like a paper plane before landing on Evie's lap, "Open it later." He says as he dashes out the door.

"Will ye be taking Apparation next term?" Eibhlin asks of Dalaigh, but she glances to Donovan as he gets to his feet. Expression is a bit torn between relief and disappointment. Though which is which and for what is /quite/ unclear. The expressions fade swiftly as the envelope lands in her lap. She picks it up, looking after the tall Gryffindor. "Thanks… I think?" Because afterall, she hasn't seen what it is yet.

Dalaigh offers out a token, "Happy Christmas" to Donovan as he heads out, then turns his head to eye the letter that was flipped to Evie.

After Donovan departs, Eibhlin opens the envelope. Why wait? And how often does one receive just an envelope like that. It's a mystery and Ravenclaws love those. She blinks a few times as she reads it. "Dale," she says finally, lowering the letter and glancing over to the other Ravenclaw. "I… gotta tell ye something."

Their food is finally delivered as Evie reads the letter from Donovan, and Dale has set it between them and has just shoved a chip into his mouth. "What's that, Evie?" he asks, eyes curious.

There's fussing with the letter as Eibhlin folds it and puts it back into the envelope. She doesn't quite go for the food, feeling the need to sort this out before her stomach will let her eat. "Around when the hols started, I… was really confused." A pause. "About ye, I mean. I like ye, but… my mind feels all fuzzy when I think about it now. An' the other day, I… went sledding with Donovan there an' we kissed afterwards." Her voice is very quiet. As if, y'know, the adults around would actually care about the trials and tribulations of a teenage girl. She's quick to continue though: "But… I think I like kissing you more! I just… thought ye should know. Wouldn't be right if ye didn't."

Dalaigh stops chewing as the confession comes from Eibhlin, and he just looks at her with one cheek stuffed full of chip. As she goes on his expression doesn't change, but he's clearly considering her words and his options. Finally he chews again, swallows, still looking at her. When his attention shifts, it's to dig his hand into the pocket of his coat. He pulls out a little box, wrapped in red and green paper, tied up with a ribbon that makes a bow on top. Reaching over, he sets it in front of her on the table. He smiles a little cautiously, "Happy Christmas, Evie."

Oh the awkwardness. Eibhlin feels like she might not be able to breathe much longer. Then the gift is set in front of her and she stares at it a moment. Only a moment though, for soon she's retrieving her satchel and digging around in it. Soon she surfaces with a blue and bronze gift bag, drawstrings pulled closed. Whatever lies within is box-shaped. She sets it down and slides it over to Dale. "It… took a while to decide what ta get for ye. Ultimately had ta make it myself." Maybe she's waiting for his reaction before she opens the gift from him.

Dale's attention takes a moment to shift from the girl to the gift, but it does, his smile widening in pleasure. "I think that sounds like the best sort of gift," he says easily, reaching for the bag since she waits, pulling the top open and bringing out the box shape from within.

It's a simple white box, but inside the box lies the gift itself. A silk purse that is, yes, still pig's ear. Possibly by accident, but likely by design. At the very least, thanks to transfiguration magic, it doesn't smell or seem to have anything like decay going on. It's just a fairly macabre little purse with a clasp. Within, however, is a small notebook and that notebook has a few pages of phrases in various languages and their translations. All swears. Eibhlin waits until he's opening the box to start to open her gift from him. "I hope ye like it," she offers over. "It seemed… only suitable." That's one way to put it.

Dale laughs out loud at his gift is revealed, surprise on his face. He shakes his head, muttering, "Evie, ye daft lass." The words are clearly fond, and he opens the purse to fish out the book inside. When he realizes what it is, a more hearty laugh comes, and he flips the pages, eyes delighted.

The wrapping on the box before Eibhlin will come loose with a tug, revealing a small box. When the top is pulled off the box a small bit of green can be seen inside. When the cotton packing is moved, a little necklace will be revealed. A simple black cord suspends a piece of green glass. It's fashioned roughly into a tear shape and is simple, no fancy filigrees or adornments. By the time she's got it open, his attention will be back on her. "That's a Leprechaun Tear," he explains, sobered a bit. "Of course, the little buggers are all over Quinnland, an' we're on good terms wi' 'em. So this one wee little lass, she said I should give this tae a lass I'm sweet on. Said that a leprauchaun's tears nae come from sadness but from joy an' for a luckier tomorrow."

The phrases are hand-written. In Eibhlin's handwriting, should Dalaigh recognize that. There's still plenty of space as the notebook is clearly intended to be a collection of such things. She's even provided pronunciation guides for some of the trickier ones. His laugh is infectuous and she's grinning by the time her gift is revealed… It fades, but to a smaller smile. A less amused and more touched kind of expression. It's a good thing she was as honest as she was before, painful as it was. It'd be even worse now. The redhead sets down the box and carefully lifts the necklace free to look at it. When he finishes his explanation, she sets it down and turns in her seat to wrap her arms around him in a wordless hug.

Dale holds the silk sow's ear in one hand, the little book in the other, and he moves to return the hug, then stops, puts the items down, and returns to the task at hand. His arms slide around Evie warmly and she's pulled in close. With his lips near her ear, he says softly, "Happy Christmas, Evie." His arms loosen and he pulls back, looking at her with a crooked smile. "Want tae make sure if ye like kissin' me more, lass?"

"Happy Christmas," Eibhlin replies, settling into the hug a bit. A much better outcome than she had hoped for. Or feared, really. She'll have to tell her ma- Moyra would be proud. Her daughter handled a situation like a responsible adult. At Dale's question, her cheeks redden. She is, however, smiling a little when she admits: "It'd be even better if ye just kissed me rather than askin'." More romantic or something like that.

Dale chuckles at her words, lifting one hand to lightly touch her cheek. His eyes hold hers a minute, taking in their clear blue that he'd compared to the sky when describing Evie to his sister. There's a slight pause, then he leans forward, closing his eyes as his lips press softly to hers. Each kiss gets more relaxed, or maybe he asked some advice of his older brother, but it could just be that practice pays off. He doesn't push for intimacy, avoiding the trap of pawing her like a monkey, to paraphrase his brother. But the kiss starts lightly and takes on a bit more pressure before he reluctantly pulls away.

There's a moment of panic as Eibhlin realizes she hasn't a clue what to do with her hands. However, as Dale leans in to kiss her, a bit of nature takes over and she finds herself resting them somewhere around his collarbone. Not quite his chest, not quite his shoulders. It's easy enough to take a cue from him and with the added practice, well. She's not half-bad herself. When he pulls away, there's still some color to Evie's cheeks as her eyes open. "I'm fairly sure, aye," she decides.

Fairly sure?? That scratches Dale's manly pride! Fine then, he doesn't ask this time as he pauses a moment, then moves back in with determination for another kiss. It's much less timid since he's not taking time to over think it, and is more of a swooping in to take a kiss from her lips unrepentantly. Ha!

As these things go, this is likely the one that Eibhlin will remember best. The kiss, that is. She might even embellish in a future telling — if she decides to kiss and tell — to include something about swooning. Her hands were still at the area around his shirt collar and there's actually some finger curling into the fabric as she returns the kiss. Surprise is enough to take away any over-thinking she may put into it, letting natural talent (or instinct?) take over.

As Dale pulls back and looks at Evie, there's a measure of pleased surprise on his face. Maybe he's not so bad at this. Or she's not. Or they're not together. Whatever it is, it's got promise.

"Definitely sure," Eibhlin decides as they break apart, the bit of color on her cheeks fading. Confidence rises, embrassment drops. She glances down to where she's grabbed at his shirt and lets go, smoothing at the fabric. "Ah, sorry," she offers, giggling a little.

Dalaigh had noticed the tug on his shirt, but he didn't think it anything to complain about. His hands come to rest lightly on her shoulders, thumbs rubbing lightly. "Nothin' tae be sorry for, lass." There's unmistakable cheer in his tone, and he looks toward their rapidly cooling fish and chips. "Eat up, lass. Then come for a walk wi' me?"

Eibhlin does smile a bit at that, turning back to regard the food. She's not much of an appetite, but enough of one to at least eat some of the food and finish her butterbeer. "Sure," she decides, glancing sidelong at him. "But I warn ye I've a wicked throw when it comes to snowballs."

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