(1938-07-17) A Grand Day Out
Details for A Grand Day Out
Summary: On a sunny summer's day three people meet up to have a grand day out. Warning: flying, picnics and awful flirting from Laurence.
Date: 17 July 1938
Location: A sunny field somewhere between Hogsmeade and London

A very very bitchy owl delivered the invitations to both Drummond and Phil to meet a certain empty field between London and Hogsmeade, still within Wizarding world boundaries of course. The weather isn't quite as rainy as in London and there are a few hills, trees and such.

It is with curiosity and great preparedness for the outdoors that our heroine arrives - well she likes to think of herself as a heroine in some grand adventure. Phil arrives not with a bang of apparition but rather oddly by peddling herself up on a Muggle contraption called a bicycle. She is sporting a jaunty beret, although it is not raspberry coloured, and a Mac in case of the rain. Her cheeks are a bit flushed as she hops off the bike and pushes it off the country lane and into the field.

The bitchy owl got a biscuit from Drummond. Whether grumps are human or animal, the Quidditch player tries to wear them down with his charm. He apparated part of the way, but the rest of the distance is covered via broom. He approaches the spot, flying quite high on his old broom, robe-shaped leather coat flapping in the wind as he descends.

How long he's been here, there's no telling. However, Laurence is here and can be found waving to Phil as she arrives, eyebrows raising as he sees the bicycle. He's in his usual shades of grey and white save he's replaced his usual slacks with a pair of comfortable dark grey leather pants and he wears a lighter grey trench coat over a simple white button down. His fedora…yes, is white today and he peers up at the sky to notice Drummond with a squint, chuckling and shaking his head as he offers another wave. He holds three wrapped packages, broom length of course, a basket of lunch set at his feet.

Phil leans her Raleigh bike up against a hedgerow and gambols happily across the field in her boots until she reaches Laurence. "Hello," she says with a breathy laugh. "What on earth have you got up your sleeves today?" She tilts her head back as he looks up and holding onto her hat with one hand watches the arrival of Drummond. "Hello!" she calls out to the new arrival and watches as he comes in for a landing. Her curious wide-eyed gaze flits from one man to the other. Knowing her more now Laurence can likely tell she is bursting with energy and… curiosity. "Are we going to have a grand adventure?" she asks with a hopeful tone.

Drummond likes to make an entrance. So it's no neat landing that he makes. He climbs a bit higher, then plummets towards the ground in a deep dive. He levels off only at the last moment, and leaps off while still moving at a very high speed. He manages to do this all and stop within a few feet of the other two, broom in hand, wide grin in place, and length of his coat snapping around his heels. Whether or not there's any applause, he bows. "Good afternoon!"

"Hello Philomena." Laurence drawls softly, offering a one armed hug if allowed. "Don't you look all saucy and French…sadly, no unfortunate fishermen." He waggles his eyebrows and grins. "We shall see…who knows what's up my sleeves!" Then his attention is caught by Drummond's entrance and his lips part as he watches and he stares rather intently, pupils may dilate a bit before he blinks and just coughs and offers a whistle. "Bloody /hell/…" Impressed, yeeeah a bit! "Come, come, come meet Miss Phil Hart!" He nods towards Drummond. "This, my dear, is Drummond Rightmarch…handsome fellow, bloody showoff and of course the new Keeper for the Appleby Arrows!"

The brief embrace is accepted and returned with a chaste kiss on the cheek before her attention is drawn by the pure showmanship of Drummon. Applause? Oh yes. Phil applauds, she cannot help it for it isn't everyday you get your own private aero-batics show. "Goodness that was impressive," she says as he completes his bow. A hand is offered to Drummond. "Phil Rowle, nothing quite so grand as a quidditch player, just an ordinary journalist. Actually, I interviewed one of your teammates not long ago. My family are big Arrows fans, go to all the matches." She blinks a few times and looks up at the dark-haired man, "Goodness are…you're the Drummond Rightmarch? My brothers played on the house team with you. Nothing fabulous mind, not like you." Gush much! She realises she is being impolite and stops blathering on about sport and turns her gaze to Laurence. "What a lovely surprise bringing us out here."

"Sorry for the bit of a blowhard entrance. But it felt good to stretch my proverbial wings. I've been going a bit mad. I'm still not sure when I'm going to start practicing. Hello!" Drummond gives Phil a bright smile and firm handshake. "Pleasure. Were you a Ravenclaw as well? What's your brothers' names? I haven't chatted with my old teammates in years. I bet they've all got secure careers that don't require getting hit in the head with quaffles." Then he glances over to Laurence, mocks up a big pout and holds up his finger. "Your owl bit me."

Laurence has to grin and he chuckles softly before letting the two make their introductions and he quirks an eyebrow for a moment and just tosses one of the broom length packages at Drummond. "Beag's thinks she's a mastiff…only thing I can think of!" He offers another package to Phil. "Its not the fanciest of brooms, but one of the used ones I had…simple maplewood tempered with oak, if you don't mind the ravenclaw colors painted on it." He winks and looks back to Drummond. "Merry Christmas old chap."

Once Drummond opens the package it'll expose: The broom has been polished until it almost shines, darker hazel wood blended and tempered with smooth pine wood creates a rather sturdy handle and stained a shade of black, the length of the broom almost seems to shimmer in inherent shadow. The head of the broom is bound by silver, the bristles tapered to allow for easy maneuverability, yet still maintaining a decent width. There are symmetrical engravings along the wood of the handle, leading to a subtle grip framed with shimmery silvery paint to allow for a one or two handed grip. The metal used for the foot rests are silver as well. Handsome, dark, and beautiful…this broom is all three.

"All of us were in Ravenclaw actually, seems to run in the family I suppose," says Phil as she takes the gift. "Thank you, Laurence," she says with a smile. "Any broom from you will be great." She looks up at Drummond, "Vincent and Alfred played with you I think, I wouldn't expect you to remember them. They weren't that good despite what they thought at the time." She gasps softly upon seeing the broom once it is removed from its wrapper. "Oh Laurence it is beautiful," she says reverently as her fingers rove over the broom handle. Deceptively delicate, Phil's broom is made of an almost peachy maple wood tempered with oak for stability. Its made for an individual of a small stature, the legnth polished and painted in swirls of Ravenclaw colors, the grip cradles an engraved eagle painted bronzey gold. The binder is also bronzey in color, bristles tapered elegantly as the foot holds match the binder. Phil raises her head and smiles up at him, "Thank you, for letting me use it." She immediately rummages in the pocket of her coat to find her gloves. "Both of them have rather boring jobs now; one is a lawyer and the other a businessman."

"I tried to give her a biscuit, but I reckon she thought my finger tasted better." Drummond wriggles it. But his pouting over a little owl bite gets cut short when the package is tossed to him. He unwraps it and his dark eyes light up. He slides his hand along it, mouth slightly agape as he explores it. "Jaysus. I keep having to stop myself from making rude sounds. It's brilliant." He looks up at Laurence. "I could kiss you, mate. I don't think I've ever seen anything so pretty." Poor Phil only gets a brief look a nod, and a smile. Pardon him, but he's drooling a bit. Talk of old classmates will have to wait until he's done caressing every inch of the broom.

"You're welcome, it was pretty and petite just like you…thought it was fitting." Laurence smiles as he watches Phil's reaction and then he looks over to Drummond and his eyebrows raise as he watches his reaction and he tilts his head to the side before making a show of covering Phil's eyes. "…Drummond mate, shall we leave you along with your new pretty?" He is cracking up laughing however as he watches.

Phil almost cannot help but laugh slightly at the sight of Drummond being so enamoured with the broom, but she does contain her mirth - only just, still it is there to see in her face and the shaking of her shoulders. The laugh bursts forth though when Laurence covers up her eyes. "I feel somehow inadequate as a woman now in ways I never have before," she says with a chuckle as she lowers Laurence's hand. "You do make beautiful brooms, so he likely will just blame you," she observes to Laurence.

Drummond snaps out of the dazed look, but being who he is, he doesn't look embarrassed. Instead, he just winks at the pair of them. "Now that I'm finished stroking, it's time for a ride." His old broom gets set out of the way. Sorry old girl, but papa's got a new shiny. The mirth on his face is hard to ignore. "Shall we take flight, ladies and gents?"

"Not the first time I've been blamed for getting a person all worked up." Laurence drawls suggestively before grinning and holds his hands up innocently before he holds the last package and takes a deep breath, stroking his hand down the wrapped up broom and swallowing before looking back to Drummond. "Ahh, authoritive man indeed. Be careful, she's got a bit of speed on takeoff." He nods firmly before unwrapping his own package exposing the broom that Phil has seen and Drummond has heard of. A rather elegant broom…its a lighter wood, almost seemingly white with silvery accents. Its the white walnut wood that makes it looks pale and somehow the cherry and reed graining seems to complement the deep engraving of vines and leaves along the handle, the binder for the bristles is silver, the bristles tapered and bound in a way for speed and easy maneuverability. He just quirks an eyebrow. "I guess we've no choice!"

Phil tucks the broom under her arm so that she can secure the belt of her raincoat more tightly then takes her hat off and shoves it into a pocket and steps astride her broom. "I am a bit rusty, I haven't flown much lately so do be gentle with me at first, gentlemen." She shakes her hair out behind her shoulders and with a kick pushes off, and settles herself comfortably on the broom. She rises up faster than she intended, not realising the speed the well made broom has. "Where are we going?" she calls back to the ring leader.

Drummond manages to take his eyes off his own broom to take in Laurence's. He grins at it and looks along the length of it, then looks at the other with a glimmer in his eye. "Black and white. Night and day. Are we really that different, mate?" He winks. When Phil lifts off, he calls up, "Steady on, lovely." And then he straddles his own broom and kicks off. It takes him a second or two to find the centre on the broom, but within a minute or so, it's like he's never flown anything else. As he zips around the sky and perform aerial acrobatics, it's easy to imagine he's showing off. Which he is, a bit. But he's also testing the new broom out.

Laurence watches the others take off and he leans against his broom for a few moments, quirking an eyebrow as he looks Drummond over and grins. "Perhaps its because I'm oh so pure." He then looks to Phil. "Don't worry beautiful, we'll lead…just follow along. I'm very gentle." He laughs and straddles his broom, kicking off and rising up to where Phil hovers, watching Drummond with a hint of a smirk. "I dunno, north…south…which way is the wind blowin'?" He tilts his head to the side, breathing hitching.

Phil relaxes a bit now that she has slowed her ascent and hovers watching Drummond's antics with a bemused shake of her head. She turns to look at Laurence and says, "He is right, you do look rather like you are a white knight riding to rescue a damsel in distress." She waves to Drummond as he passes by doing a barrel roll. "I never knew him at school, was he always like this?" Phil asks with a smirk. The know it all in her pushes her to stick her finger in her mouth and wet it then hold it up into the air. "It is coming from that way," she nods towards where the cool air came from.

Drummond indulges himself for a few minutes longer, then darts down to join the other two. He levels off. The grin on his face nearly splits it. "Brilliant! Nothing quite like it." Then he waits. He's had his fun for the moment. He'll let Phil and Laurence choose a direction.

"Its the hat isn't it? Blast it all to pieces, I knew a fedora would be my image downfall." Laurence fakes a pout before winking to Phil and then eyeing Drummond for a few moments. "Most airheads are…its liberating, freeing if you're skilled enough to do all that! I make the brooms, men like him give 'em a workout." He makes the suggestion of course, he's just a simple flyer. "Aye! Nothin' quite like it!" He agrees before looking to Phil and her direction, peering towards the north before shrugging and leaning forward, urging the broom forward.

Phil breathes in deeply of the summery air with its hints of the rain that ended not too long ago and finds herself nodding in agreement. She offers a smile to Drummond when he joins them, "I always fell off whenever I tried to do what you just did. I suppose I never held on tight enough with my legs." She leans forward and uses inertia to set herself flying after Laurence. The act of movement coupled with the already present light winds billow her hair and for that matter the tails of her coat out behind her. "I feel like we should be singing sea shanties or something equally disreputable."

"Did you have pillaging in mind? Sweep down and rob a Muggle's chicken coop and make off with eggs?" Drummond does look a bit of a pirate on the dark broom with the long leather robe and unbound dark hair. He flies alongside Phil. "Here, shift your sholders back and lower your grip a touch. That should help your balance, which should help you turn. The trick is to never lose your centre. When you do, everything goes to hell. That's why it's so important to have a properly balanced broom."

"I know a few dirty drinkin' songs but they are hardly appropriate for chicken coop pillaging." Laurence drawls softly. "Although one does mention hens and a cock…but no eggs…" He's incorrigible. Possibly he then drops down suddenly, hovering lower than the others and letting them fly over before rising back up behind them and nodding. "Balance is everythin' when it comes to maneuvering."

Nodding her understanding, Phil shifts on the broom thrusting her shoulders back and chest up then leaning forward to slide her hands further along the broom. The process is not fluid and she veers slightly for a few seconds before pulling herself back into alignment. "Perhaps that was the problem, I was always on someone else's broom before." She adjusts her grip on the handle, finding a comfortable place to hold it then wriggles her backside to get situated only to veer slightly again. "Blast!" she mutters to herself as she straightens out again. Finally she thinks she has found her centre and it does look like she may have done. "Any more tips?" she asks. "Is this better? I feel more stable…"

"When you turn, drive in with your heels and grip firmly. That'll keep your core centred," calls Drummond over the wind. "But when you're flying straight, relax. Otherwise you'll get fatigued and it'll get harder to corner the longer you fly." Some of the cockiness and showboating stops when he's teaching. He watches her form and says, "Little straighter. Perfect. Now you've got it. Try and do a wide corner, like this." He demonstrates by zipping ahead, then curving around in a gentle arc. "If you can learn to corner well, you can do this…" he drops back beside Laurence, then reaches out to snatch his hat. If he manages to get hold of it, he drops into a dive, hat in hand. Mwahahah.

"Your broom is made a bit more narrow in the grip and slightly wider all together to account for the shape of a woman yet respecting them being smaller as well…so aye, you'll be more stable that way…" Laurence agrees with Drummond, watching Phil with a small smile and then he suddenly feels wind in his hair and his hat is in Drummond's hand as he reflexively, hooks his left foot into his foot rest, twisting his ankle slightly and locking his left leg around/against the broom as he dives after dives after Drummond and when a few feet away, braking sharply and throwing himself off his broom half way, left leg still wrapped around it and reaching out to swipe back his hat if permitted and using the momentum to swing in a small barrel role back astride his broom. - Then he freezes up, realizing what he's just done.

Phil would have missed it had she not attempted the wide turn that Drummond recommended. She is a little surprised to see Laurence fly so well, but then rationalises it somehow and tucks the knowledge away for later. "Go on!" she calls out encouragingly and practices some much safer maneouvers on her broom, turning this way and that as she sings a sea shanty to herself while they chase one another. The words are carried by the wind so that only a few are audible but the gist of the song is that a young man was in love with a mermaid. When she gets to the chorus again she belts it out louder this time, "'Cause her hair was green as seaweed, her skin was pale and blue, I loved that girl with all my heart, I only liked the upper part, I did not like the tail!" Perhaps the thinner air is going to her head. She reaches the end of the chorus and dives down, attempting to to a much simpler, much much simpler version of what the pair of them have done.

Drummond is not prepared to have Laurence so neatly snap the hat back from him. In retrospect, he should have seen that coming. He banks off and laughs then comes up beside Laurence. "Well well. I see I'm not the only hot dog, ay?" He winks. "Should we be good teachers, or should we make this interesting?" He watches Phil flying about and singing. "You should write an air shanty!"

Only shaken for a few moments, Laurence just seems to relax on his broom, his entire posture shifts to somebody who was either born on a broom or belongs there, steering with one hand as his other moves to place his hat back on his head so he can look up and tip said hat to Phil as he laughs and calls out, a hint of his natural Scottish brogue coloring his words. "Oi, you be a hot dog…I'm just enjoing being seranaded by the pretty lassie." He wolfwhistles before looking back to Drummond as he banks right only to complete a small circle back to Drummond's side. "We could be interesting good teachers."

Sweet, innocent, endearingly soft-hearted and naive Phil is unaware she is the subject of discussion between the pair of them. The longer she stays on the broom the more confident she looks to become. She waves at the pair and then gets a rather fiendish look on her face as if she had some kind of secret. With a subtle shift of her body she adopts a much better, much more comfortable posture and dives straight for the pair, aiming not to grab any hats or even coats but to buzz them like a jet fighter and a control tower. She does it not recklessly but with great precision and calls back as she passes them by, "By the way, I forgot to say I had private lessons as a child! But thanks for the tips!" Her laughter trails behind her as she keeps zipping forward at a fast flying speed.

Drummond has good reflexes, so he manages to get out of the way enough that Phil doesn't buzz him /quite/ as close as she intended. Still. He watches her go with an amused look and arched brows. He glances over at Laurence. "I think we've been had, mate." Then he zips off, putting on the proverbial gas. He goes hurtling through the air on a straight course. Speed like that shouldn't be possible for someone not inside some kind of craft. Thank goodness for charms.

"Whoa…" Laurence is nearly buzzed as he ducks slightly and his eyebrows raise a fraction. "…I could think of a few things I'd like to have…" He drawls softly to himself before he snorts and watches folks zipping off. "Airheads!" He calls out fondly before he adjusts his position on his broom and leans forward to speed after the speed demons, keeping behind them at a safe distance. He's just the broom maker!

Phil isn't surprised that Drummond manages to catch up with her. She looks over at him and grins, "Fancy meeting you here." She glances back over her shoulder and slows up some as she spies Laurence. "Why is he now flying like my gran?" Phil asks, posing her question at the professional player. "Come on you," she calls back, "Unless you have some reason for bringing up the rear?!" And there it is stupid words coming out of her mouth with one meaning and then the realisation they can have another, once more Phil finds herself blushing profusely while in male company.

"He must be checking out /your/ arse. Mine is covered by my coat," says Drummond with a laugh. He drops into a high-speed barrel roll and evens out again. "Here's a game! Pretend I'm the snitch!" And then he drops suddenly, dropping through the clouds towards the ground and disapparing in a puff.

"I like the view from back here!" Laurence calls out before smirking to himself and shrugging his shoulders and speeding up just in time hear Drummond's challenge and watching him drop and he takes a deep breath and then another, a hint of a tremble before he looks to Phil. "He's so demanding." He gives a fake sigh before idly cracking his neck and with a woosh, he's throwing himself backwards, gripping the broom as he completes the backflip like loop and he dive/speeds after Drummond.

Phil just blushes all the more at the good-natured ribbing, well she did bring it on herself. "You're rather big for snitch!" she calls out after Drummond. Even so she finds herself laughing in agreement with Laurence. Phil bides her time, not diving right away, watching first, trying to see if she can sense where he is going. She loves the chase but doesn't like to loose if she can help it. Her eyes narrow and she takes a chance, forcing her broom's handle downwards as she dives, rolling as she does so, heading to where she thinks Drummond the Giant Black Snitch will go next.

The cloud cover makes it difficult to tell /just/ where Drummond went. The air is thick and misty and pregnant with rain. He can turn on a dime, so trajectory doesn't really help much. If Laurence is clever, he might spot a little bit of a disturbance in the clouds up ahead. Phil is too late to see it before it dissipates. However, the cloud bank is not very big. If he's hiding in it, there's only so much to sweep.

"Aye, its all the chips! They go straight to his arse!" Laurence calls out before he's banking sharply and hovering in the cloudy mists, squinting and studying the various cloud disturbances and ripple sand such with the keen eye of a seeker and he just gestures towards Phil and then towards the cloud bank. "He's fast." He cautions before he circles to the left, speeding up and heading for where he saw the disturbance.

Phil nets nothing but dissipating clouds. "So you were looking at his backside!" she shouts with a laugh as she veers right, trying again to find the dark clad fiend. With the greyness of the clouds she finds herself turned around again but drops down lower to get her perspective once more. She has to concur with Laurence's assessment and says, "He is very fast." And quiet and sneaky and could be right behind her more than likely.

If Drummond had planned this little escapade, he wouldn't be wearing a huge, billowing black coat. There's a flicker of movement up ahead, through the dense fog of a low-hanging cloud. Black movement, like a shadow. There's the sound of a leather coat snapping in the wind and an echoing of sound in damp air. He's on the move, and fast.

A small smile curves Laurence's lips as he just arches an eyebrow and those ice blue eyes turn somewhat predatory as he scans the fog and gestures for Phil to follow, head tilted as he zones in on sounds that are not natural, he hears the lapping and probably the sound the brooms displacing air but he just points in the direction of the sound and nods towards it for Phil to speed after if she so wishes.

Phil is good at many things, singing not always being one, but hearing is definately one of those things. In fact you might say she has accute hearing - it helps with her job and also hunting men (not that she has much experience at that). She nods to Laurence and comes up beside him, moving forward. Like soldiers signalling in the field she motions for him to take one side and she will take the other. Assuming Laurence is going to do so Phil leans down and shoots forward. Of the three of them she is, ironically, the one with the least clothing and the least heaviest clothing as well as being the lightest. Hugging herself close to the broom handle she chases after Drummond, listening for the sound of his coat.

The dark shape moves off, coat snapping in the wind. The shape is closer now, and seems to be moving a bit erratically. Or maybe it just seems that way, distorted as it is by the clouds. It's just above and ahead of both of them, now, on the edge of the cloud bank.

This is the part of it he misses, the speed…the wind…the chase…Laurence just nods to Phil, leaning forward and adjusting his grip as he banks sharply and hurtles along the opposite side, dipping and swerving as he's speeding towards the edge of the cloud bank.

Being ever so careful to not give away her position Phil drives forward, adjusting slightly when it sounds as if Drummond is not directly in front of her but just a bit to the left. The clear break in the clouds isn't far now and she pushes herself trying with everything to catch him before he gets there. Just what she will do if she does she hasn't planned, some sort of aerial victory dance perhaps.

Once the two dart out of the cloud bank, they manage to box in their quarry. But their quarry is…a coat. A coat filled with air atop Drummond's old broom. There's a sharp whistle from a good few storeys above them, as coatless Drummond waves with his wand hand. The air-filled jacket waves, too. He laughs, loud and bright.
Laurence's eyebrow raises as he eyes the coat and looks up towards the whistle a grin making an appearance as he holds his hands up and mimics a bow before smiling wistful and pumping his fist in the air. "See, Philomena, /That/ is a flyer!"

Phil cannot help but laugh appreciatively at Drummond's victory. "You win, sirrah!" she calls up to him. "I'm not sure what prize you get but, you definately win." She cruises over to collect the coat and broom for him. "He is even better now than I remember him being," she says looking at Laurence. "And you, you are good too Mr-I'm-Just-the-Broom-Maker. You cannot make them without knowing them, that would be like a chef who never tastes their food."

Drummond dives down from above with a big grin on his face. He collects his things from Phil, shrugging the jacket back on and charming up a strap to hold his other broom, guitar-style, against his back. "That was a bit of a dirty trick, that. If it was just flying and chasing, you would've had me." Still, he looks quite pleased with himself. "Speaking of food. I'm /starving/."

There's a bit of a haunted look in Laurence's eyes at the compliment and he chuckles softly before quickly shaking his head. "Aye, you're right…the whole chef tasting food thing, I have to regularly test these naughty nancies out!" He clears his throat and hmms. "Well I have some spice cake and ham sandwiches and some type of french cheese waiting at the starting spot, first person there gets to pop the cork on the wine in the basket."
Perhaps not as eager to eat as the pair of them are Phil takes her time, enjoying being on such a well made broom. She tries out a few old tricks she knows like flying low and tight to the ground only to abruptly climb upwards again and a minute or two later comes to a land in the field where they started. With a jaunty hop she disembarks and winces. "I think between flying and riding here from the village I shall likely be walking gingerly for a day or two," she states. "I have some strawberries in my basket on the bike and some clotted cream." She crosses over to the bike, walking a bit like she is bow-legged, it is not terribly ladylike. Thankfully by the time she is pushing the bike back over towards the centre of the field she is walking in a less comical and far more normal fashion.

Drummond is fast over short distances, but his position as keeper means he doesn't regularly traverse the length of the pitch like the other players. He's off in a shot, but after that initial burst of speed, the smaller and lighter fliers have an opportunity to close the gap. Not only that, but he had his victory. He's happy to not fight for this particular race. He lands without fanfare and shrugs off his other broom. His new one is admired and stroked again. "You really /are/ a master, Larry."

The broom master lands light on his feet, unstraddling the broom smoothly and smoothing a hand along the handle of the broom, murmuring softly in Greek before looking up to Drummond and Phil, watching the latter with a hint of amusement. "I should've put a cushioning charm on the broom for you darling, don't let me forget next time." He smiles and then looks to Drummond and gives a polite bow of his head. "She'll serve you well." Then he looks back to Philomena. "Oooo, we shall have a /fancy/ meal indeed." He flops down to the ground, broom laid out carefully behind him as he starts to unpack the basket of food items, spiced cake is set aside, bottle of wine is held out towards Drummond as he points to Phil and he takes out a few glasses and then out come the sandwiches and a couple of apples. "Its amazing how flying always makes you a tad hungry and -" He can't finish that sentence. "Um. Hungry."

"Indeed we can," says Phil as she takes the food from the basket on her bike and lays the bike carefully on the ground. The broom is set atop it and then Phil hands the food to Laurence. "Funnily, it doesn't make me that hungry, not like it did when I was much younger. As I have gotten older it has had a different effect on me. Maybe that is just me." She shrugs it off and begins removing her boots and then coat so that she can sit more comfortably in the summer sun. "Thank you for inviting me, I'm having a lovely time." Her head turns towards Drummond, "How do you know Laurence?"

"Me too, mate," says Drummond with a sly look to Laurence after that comment. He takes the wine bottle and uncorks it with a flick of his wand. He pours them each a glass. "Well now, don't I feel like a poor guest? I haven't brought anything. I might have some licorice wheels in my pockets." He pats himself down. The great leather robe is spread out over the ground. It's large enough for all of them to sit on if they like. He sips from his own glass after passing out the others. "We met in the Leaky Cauldron. Though to be honest, it feels like we've been mates for longer than a few weeks, ay?" A wink for Laurence.

"Mmhmmm…" Laurence eyes Phil as he looks thoughtfully and chuckles softly to himself as he shifts to takes a glass of wine, holding up and out the platter of sandwiches as he listens to the two talk, grinning and shaking his head, adjusting himself to sit on the robe with a snort. "Aye, he was pissed drunk, I was in the process of gettin' pissed." He tips his hat to both individuals. He's quiet though as he takes another sip of his drink.

Phil reaches out and accepts the glass of wine with a murmur of thanks. "This wasn't when you were caught groping a hag was it?" She smirks at Laurence and takes a sip of the wine before setting the glass aside. "Why is it that men can be drunk in public but women get looked down upon?" Phil shakes her head, "I dislike these double standards. Nobody cares if old witches smoke pipes and drink dragon's piss but you end up waking up in the Cauldron with a frog down your frock one time and people won't let you live it down." She huffs and stabs her strawberry into the clotted cream then bites the end of it off forcibly.

Drummond takes a bite of the ham sandwich and then sprawls out on his jacket. He undoes the button on his faded waistcoat and points leather booted toes. He pillows one hand behind his head and gets comfortable just in time for Phil's rant. "I admit, I'm surprised at what people let me get away with." He chuckles. "But maybe that's the quidditch. I'm going to enjoy it while it lasts."

"Oh no no no, I was sober then." Laurence confirms before taking a bite of his own sandwich, following it with a sip of wine and he licks his lips as he listens to Phil's rant and he looks sympathetic for a few moments. "It isn't fair…but…stick with us. I'm pretty and he's a bad boy, we can get as drunk as we like and fall over and get away with it and I promise you if you get equally as pissed and we'll defend your honor."

Phil calms a little, truly she is never upset for long anyway. She polishes off the rest of the berry and tosses the stem out into the grass behind them. "You were sober when you - nevermind, I don't think I want to know." She scrunches up her nose and drinks a bit more wine. "Thank you for defending my honour, should the need arise in the future," she says and pats Laurence's knee. "You are an amzing flyer, Drummond, I cannot see your career ending prematurely. I'm sure you will have your own fan section again. I remember that. I got hit in the head with a banner once by an over excited girl. I think I might have tripped her afterwards." She drinks a little more then sets her glass aside and leans back on her hands, turning her face up to the sun.

"I'm late into my career to be just getting out of reserve status." Drummond wrinkles his nose. For the entire time he was on the Kestrels, he was a reserve keeper, under the shadow of one of the best in the sport. "But, I've decided to ride it as long as I can. I know it won't last forever." He sits up so he can have a proper sip and to reach for a strawberry. "And you," he points to Laurence. "I think you're just as bad as I am. And I'm just as pretty. People like labels, though." He grins and flops back onto the ground.

Laurence gropes for a strawberry, eyebrows waggling as he grins at Phil and nibbles on his piece of fruit, following the conversation with a soft chuckle as he chews slowly and he pauses in mid-bite to stick his tongue out at Drummond. "Its all about the labels when you're playing professionally sadly. People need a way to define you, slogans, headlines, all that shi-" He looks to Phil. "All that rubbish, but its worth it in the end."

Phil opens one eye and peers at Laurence, "You can say shit. You said arse earlier." She smirks and then turns her head to look at Drummond. "Listen, you're utterly lovely. Truly. I think Laurence is right. We just need to get you well known. Do you know why people liked Palancher? It is because he was a decent chaser, but also because he was in the papers. Now he works for the ministry." She takes up her wine glass and empties it then sets it down again. "Lucky for you you know know someone who can help you get into the papers. I just need to think of the right angle. Unless," she pauses, "you don't want the publicity?"

Drummond starts to laugh. He looks over at Laurence, who is likely in on the joke. Him? Not like publicity? Not like /attention/? He sits up again. All this up and down business is too much work, and he's still hungry. "Speak to Larry, here. He's my unofficial manager. I even signed an autograph in his shop the other day."

Laurence tilts his head to the side as he considers what is being said and works on another strawberry, smirking a bit as he looks between Drummond and Phil and back to Drummond. "Hehe…we'll talk about it later
Philomena…most definitely." He lays back and adjusts his hat to cover his face as he rests his hands on his stomach.

Phil feels the warmth of the sun and the safety of their company lull her to sleep.

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