(1939-01-31) Sill Sitting
Details for Sill Sitting
Summary: Letter sending and receiving up in the owl tower, turns into a case of sill sitting, jellybeans and not a little flirting.
Date: 1939-01-31
Location: Owl Tower, Hogwarts

The Owl Tower's floor is covered in owl droppings, straw, and small animal skeletons. Six huge windows are embedded both in the bottom of the north and south wall sections of this rounded room. The windows are open to the elements and allow the owls to fly in and out as they please. The tower is quite tall and has many recessed arches for each owl to have their own home. The walls below each of the recesses are also covered with splotches of owl droppings and actually give an interesting contrast to the old stone work behind. During the winter, the room is quite cold and there is a danger of ice on the floor. Arching off the south side at the top of the tower, is a sky bridge that leads to the palisades of the castle.

Friday. Thank Merlin it's Friday!!! Just after last class, the castle is still in a state of heavy traffic and even heavier chatter. Corridors are filled with rushing feet and conversations of Hogsmeade, butter beer and that last Potions review that left more than a few fifth years swimming in panic attacks. That usually means Gerald, bless his soul, has found himself swamped with tutoring requests. Most of which he sends off toward other students, like his ex.

For now he's resorted to last minute errands, which as the owl he sends off, his expression peaked as the creature takes to the air, sending him slinking backwards quickly away from the windows. After all…BIRD!

Sybil turns the corner at the top of the owl tower stairs and steps into the room. Wrapped warmly in her cloak and with a Ravenclaw scarf wrapped thrice around her neck, she's reviewing a letter that she carries in her hands. "Oh. Hello again. Seems I'm bumping into you everywhere lately," she says on spotting Gerald. That Gerald's stepping backwards in such a manner brings a smile to her face and she carries her letter over to one of the ledges, taking a small vial of rose coloured liquid from the folds of her cloak. A small sprinkle of it is given the parchment before she folds it up and inserts it into an envelope. "Looking forward to tomorrow, Cornfoot? I know that I am."

Gerald chuckles, though as a nearby owl hoots, Gerald can't hide the jump it causes from him. He laughs it off of course, albeit nervously. "Of course I am." He promises, turning, ever cautiously, from the owls to watch the prepping of the letter. "Writing to your future husband?" This gets a small laugh, perhaps a bit too familiar with that very move? Or perhaps she just has that look to her. "Should I be jealous?"

"Do you want to be jealous?" Sybil asks, a smile just tugging one corner of her mouth as she leans out of one window and gives a low whistle. Its quite musical and more than likely the call signal for her owl, a glance over her shoulder towards Gerald as she waits. "I think that letters are something special both to send and receive and I like to perfume them so the recipient knows its from me before opening it. Sometimes I doodle flowers in the corner." A pause. "Would you like to meet Florence? She's my owl." And right on cue, a beautiful small-eared owl sails through the window and comes to land on the ledge near Sybil.

"Maybe." He returns with a snort. Though he does remain relatively quiet as she explains her actions. It summons a letter to be drawn from his pocket which..is oddly enough rather similar to her description of such. It's covered in delicate flower and vine doodles and smells of rose. It's waved toward her with a laugh as he also shares a small roll of her eyes. "It's a princess thing, isn't it? You girls think we can be won over with something pretty that smells nice." A sigh, "And..you're pretty much right, I'm afraid. Not that you didn't already know that." Then again, anything more he may have been ready to say is lost as an owl behind him hoots sending him scrambling (much to his mortification), toward the girl. It's an act he simply can't ignore, and instead chooses to acknowledge with a small cough. "No..no I'm good without meeting your creature."

Sybil giggles, a hand pushing into the folds of her cloak to pull a small box out. "It must be simply mortifying to be nervous of owls," she says, her own particular one shuffling along the ledge before a sudden flap of its wings carries it up and onto her shoulder. "Florrie won't hurt you, will you Florrie." The vigorous flapping of her wings might already be a little more than Gerald can take as he's forcibly herded their way, though if it is, Sybil feigns ignorance. "She'll love you forever if you give her a mouse. Would you like to try?" A waggle is given the box she carries, a reason no doubt as to why Florence had come to perch on her shoulder and there's a small tilt of her head, eyes filled with amusement as she looks at Gerald. "Can't say the same of me though; if you tried to tempt me with the corpse of a mouse, I'd probably hex you."

"No..no that's okay. I'm sure she's perfectly happy with you." Gerald keeps his distance, something that apparently only owls can force him to do. The frustrations show rather easily on his features. "I much prefer cats." He then allows grumpily.

Quiet for a moment, Gerald does his best to push aside his discomfort, and he does so with a forced but genuine smile. "Come on though. You wouldn't hex me. I'm adorable. And just think of how boring the library was if I wasn't there to sta—visit with you. You'd miss me." The last part is almost sang. Just in case she needs reminding.

"Oh. Well if you really don't want to," Sybil says, taking the lid off the box herself so that she can take a take a mouse from inside. She's standing talking to Gerald with her owl perched on one shoulder, and a letter held in her hand along with the mouse box. "As for not hexing you, I'd never say never. You might think you look adorable now, but you'd probably look even more so if covered in fur. Imagine. All the girls could then line up to groom you and you could even have tiny braids put in your cheeks."

Anthony climbs steadily up the stairs, looking from perch to perch, as if seeking out a particular owl.

Gerald snorts, "I'm fine right here." He allows his arms folding over his chest as he watches her, though really, it's her words that lighten the expression on his face. They even summon a laugh from him as he leans against the only semi-clean piece of wall he can find. Something she says does manage to do much more than just amusing him though, judging by the look he sends her and the slow arch of his brows. "Oh is that so?" There's clearly more, but the sound of footsteps on the stairs summons a hush from him as he glances toward the entrance.

"That's so. Didn't you know?" This to Gerald as Sybil takes a mouse from the box and dangles it for Florrie who wastes no time in taking it from her fingers. Anthony's arrival has her turning, and there's a warm smile for him as she tucks the box back away in her robes. "Hello Rowle. Here to send letters too?" Shifting Florence from her shoulder with a gentle hand, she sets the owl on the ledge, not terribly far from Gerald, and holds the letter for her to take. There's a waft of perfume from it as she does, though the owl seems used to this and hops with the letter in its feet as she bends and whispers a name in its ear. "And don't dilly dally," she says severely, stepping back as Florence stretches stretches her wings and takes to the skies. She turns to Anthony "Are you going to Hogsmeade tomorrow as well, Rowle?"

Anthony holds up his own letter, "You worked it out! Why else would I be here, Pyrites, mmmm?" He looks faintly amused, "And yes… yes, of course I am. Although I don't have particularly firm plans at present. Yourself? I gather from last night that I need different cologne."

Gerald chuckles, though he does shift away from the owl, his eyes of course don't leave the intru..newly arrived Anthony, who's words earn a slow arch of Gerald's brow, along with a rather smug grin. He remains quiet for the most, though he does level a particularly complacent grin toward the blond girl.

"And why's that?" Sybil gives a delicate brush of her fingers over her shoulder where Florence had eaten her mouse, attention on Anthony for a moment. "Personally I dislike cologne on boys, it usually clashes with whatever perfume I'm wearing and then I sneeze. And sneeze." Is that a hint of amusement that just lurks behind her eyes as she says that to her fellow Ravenclaw? Hard to tell, because she's already turning to Gerald, a nosecrinkle given at the grin he sends her. "I'm supposing that the two of you know each other, yes? Would either of you like a sweet?" Back into her cloak goes her hand, this time pulling out a bag of jellybeans. "Personally, though, I much prefer the smell of 'Eau de Man', the sort of smell that you get a waft of when one of them sprints past you. Or towards you."

Anthony beckons one of the school owls, and explains, "I walked onto the balcony, and you barged past me in your hurry to leave?" He gives a little shrug, "I don't wear cologne, actually. Should I start? Not sure if the sweat from running is a bit much."

Gerald chuckles, though he does reach for the box without much hesitation. After all, she owes him sweets! "Yeah, I know him." He allows without much effort. "Don't you have a date with Shine this weekend?" This is asked with the same ease, and possibly a bit of genuine interest. Toward Sybil, his gaze is readily shifting back seconds later. "I haven't really seen many guys run past you, Kitten. I wouldn't think you'd know what that was like."

Sybil laughs, cheeks dimpling as she closes her eyes and helps herself to a jellybean, popping it into her mouth. "You did that completely wrong," she tells Gerald, squinting at him. "You're meant to close your eyes so you don't know what you're getting. If everyone looked, then I'd just be left with the bogey ones and nothing else." A shake of them Anthony's way. "Come on. Be brave. Eyes closed and pick one," she says to him. "And I didn't mean to barge past you, I was late." Its only then that the rest of what Gerald has said seems to filter through to her, and she gives him a small dig with her elbow. "Kitten. Are you comparing me to that feisty ball of fluff called Hexicus? Not sure whether to be pleased or dismayed. Is it a compliment?"

Anthony reaches for a bean without looking, "Possibly he thinks that everyone wants to tickle your tummy?" He's still trying to attract an owl.

Gerald chuckles. "Course it was a compliment." He does roll his eyes at her berating, popping a red candy into his mouth arrogantly, perhaps pleased that he cheated. At least he doesn't have a moth full of ick. "I have too much to lose if I make you angry /now/. And no, I actually have no intention of suggesting /anyone/ tickle anything on her..except me, which is hardly fitting for public discussion."

Sybil snorts. "Absolutely nobody is tickling any part of me," she says, a hint of colour just staining her cheeks. Poor girl, the paleness of her complexion doesn't allow for even the slightest embarrassment to go unnoticed and so she dips her head to look at the jellybeans in her hand, hair slewing forward in a silken curtain to hide her face.

Anthony flicks the bean into his mouth, and says, after a moment, "Not lime. Toad, I think." But he gets on, nonetheless with enticing an owl over, and finally manages to tie the note to its foot.

Gerald smiles, lowering his own head, but to hide the amusement her blush brings. "Apologies." He chuckles over to her, his tone low. Still, there's the distinct impression he's not /actually/ sorry at all. "I want nothing to do with tickling you at all." Beat, "Does that help at all?" He grins toward her, though his attention is easily drawn toward Anthony as he tries to get his letter sent. Again, he sidesteps away from the birds. So. Freaking. Creepy!

"Oh Adorabella would so not like there being toad-flavoured jellybeans," Sybil says, willing the blush to recede before she looks back up again. It does take a moment or two of severe concentration upon the sweets, but once achieved she sweeps her hair back behind her ears and eyes the Gryffindor. "Apologies accepted," she says to Gerald, swatting his arm before a flutter at the arches draws her attention back. "Florrie! You wonderful thing you!" Her smile now firmly back in place, she takes the letter from her owl and, given the speed of delivery and reply, it would have to be assumed her correspondee is either within the castle or Hogsmeade itself. Without looking at it, she pushes it into the voluminous folds of her cloak and drops a kiss to the top of her owl's head. "But Cornfoot," she says, turning to him once more. "I very much doubt that your apologies are sincere. I'm quite convinced in fact that you like when you make a girl blush."

Anthony gives a faint tut. It sounds amused though, in a dry way, "Shocking. I tell you. Absolutely shocking. And in answer to your question, I have no idea. Possibly."

Gerald can only grin, and nod of course. "Busted." He allows with a laugh. "I very much enjoy seeing girls blush, but you overestimate my abilities. I'm rather impressed with myself that I can manage to get a blush from you." It's not a small task after all, what with her rather capable skill in sarcasm. "Though, I really am very sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Not my intention at all." Course the swat at his arm was a small sign that he wasn't at threat /yet/ of being shoved out a window. The returning owl also gets a look..or glare perhaps. He's out of room to inch away!

"You didn't make me uncomfortable, and I blush quite easily," Sybil says, lifting her chin just a little with that remark. It might have been the whole blush-swat-letter business that's distracted her, because at Anthony's reply, she simply looks confused. "What's shocking? What might don't you know, but possibly?" As the question gets asked of him, she levers herself up to sit on the arch's sill, the wind just catching her hair to toss it in tiny tendrils of silver about her head. A shiver, and a drawing of her cloak about her shoulders is her only response, a nudge of her foot given Gerald's arm since she's now perched just to the right of his shoulder.

Anthony helps himself to another of the jelly beans. Just cos. Orange this time. How bad could it be? "It's shocking him teasing you, just to make you blush, as opposed to teasing you for mutual enjoyment." Whatever _that_ means is left up to the listener. "And I may be having tea with Shine. Date is the wrong word, though, given she's still dating."

"I think she's very pretty when she blushes." Gerald responds without much hesitation, though the foot that assaults him is grabbed easily at her ankle, playfully of course. As for Shine, it takes him a few moments to catch up with that, but eventually he seems to make /some/ sense of the boys meaning. "Oh..yes well, as of lunch she was single." He allows without more than a shrug, "It changes like the tide these days but she's a fit catch if you can keep ahold to her. We've been friends since first year. Takes an exciting guy to keep her occupied."

"And we all know that there's none of those around here," Sybil says, a small laugh just edging its way into her words. "And oi! Gerroffa my foot." Fingers grip to the edge of the sill on which she's sitting and she gives a retaliatory tug of her leg, but it remains firmly held in Gerald's grip. "Be careful Cornfoot, if you don't return my foot to me unharmed, I'll have to unleash the feathery ferocity of Florrie upon you. And you'd not want that!"

Anthony coughs, "Come _on_ Cornfoot. Do let go of the girl. You know it's not on to manhandle the ladies like that."

Gerald snorts, though his grin is gone seconds later as he turns to send a rather flat gaze back at Anthony. "We're playing, Rowle." He allows, though he does attempt to try and lessen the seriousness of his tone as he glances back toward the blond seated on the windowsill. "She knows I wouldn't dare manhandle her, even if she did attack me first."

Sybil grins. "That's perfectly true," she responds. "Did my reputation for having a scream that could shatter both glass and eardrums precede me then?" There's a small squirm of her rump on the sill, and she leans forward, ruffling Gerald's hair with her hand. "See Rowle? Now I have the advantage because he's either got to let me go to escape the ruffling, or drag me off the sill." A smugness settles across her face and she empties the bag of jellybeans into her lap, closing her eyes before picking one out and tossing it in the air. Clearly a pro at the game, she captures it perfectly.

Anthony finally tries the orange one. And spits it almost immediately out, "Bug ichor!"

Gerald chuckles, though the attention to his hair doesn't exactly send him away, rather he slumps against the sill next to her, dropping his head…and stealing another jellybean. Also red. Yes he cheats. "You're coming off the window alright," he drones lowly, "One way or another." Anthony's response to his jelly bean earns a laugh as well, albeit lowly.

"Ear wax," Sybil says, leaning backwards out of the window in order to spit her jellybean into the void. "And I'm not coming off here unless you drag me, Cornfoot." That might be the wrong thing to say as she gives another annoying ruffle of his hair. Its not like she's the size of heavyweight weight-lifter - far from it. Hitching her other leg up, she crosses the stockinged length over the other and rests the tip of her shoe upon his shoulder, amusement flaring in her eyes as she looks over to Anthony. "Any moment now, he'll claim to feel faint from the smell of cheese. Round one to me."

Anthony lets his eyes roll upwards, "If I was to offer you a lift down, Pyrites, would that help? Or should I leave you two, to work it out for yourselves?"

Gerald is ruffled, laughing lowly before he shifts, perhaps at the addition to yet another delicate foot on his shoulder. Anthony manages to draw his attention as well, though Gerald looks somewhat amused at it. "You do realize this is what flirting looks like, right?" He offers dryly toward the other boy, before he turns, an arm reaching to wrap around her feet before he bends, pulling her up and over his shoulder with a small (and exaggerated) gasp and buckle of his knees. If she wants to joke, he can too! "Hell Kitten..you eat too much junk." He laughs. And he now owes her jellybeans.

Sybil squeals as the jellybeans she'd tipped into her lap spill across the floor. "Cornfoot!" It'd appear that Anthony's offer of a rescue was a little too late, but then again perhaps it wasn't serious. Hoisted across Gerald's shoulder in a fireman's lift, she whacks the flat of her hand across his backside, it being the nearest attainable target. "Me? Flirting? I could have you done for slander with that I'll have you know," she protests - though her protest is lost amidst a sudden giggle. "Unhand me you cad! Put me down!"

Anthony tries to judge the giggle, and then says, with a sigh, "Pyrites, do you feel some special spark for this fellow? Or do you want rescuing?"

"We have a date already." Gerald allows toward Anthony, no doubt he'll be ignored. "She's laughing." But he does jump at the smack, reaching to return it toward her own rear, though it's far less spirited. "I'll put you down if you'll be nice." Though, he's already leaning to plant her carefully on the ground.

"Excuse me! Its a not-date!" Sybil squeaks, the flop of her hair over her head obscuring her face from view. "Put me down, Cornfoot, please! Blood's rushing to my head and I'm going end up with a serious case of red-eyed swollen headitis. You don't want to see me like that because its absolutely horrid and I'll look like something dredged from the bottom of the black lake. Do you want to walk something like that into Hogsmeade tomorrow?" Another exaggerated swat of her hands against his back before she adds. "Also… I've eaten too many jellybeans. I may just throw them all up."

Sybil dry heaves. Its a fake, but who's to know…

Anthony takes a brisk step back. Because, you know. Pukes

Gerald laughs, setting her down and letting her steady herself before the theatrics kick in full scale and he's left lifting a hand to cover his face as he turns away…in his own way playing into her new drama. "Eww..don't do that. I'm not the type to hold hair." He snaps, though he does slip away, just a small step. "You're going to make someone try to beat me up." He teases, watching her. "This is hardly ladylike."

Sybil flings her hair back over her shoulders, the move accomplished by a graceful circular sweep of her hand across her throat, elbow lifting up and over her head before her hand slips down and back across the nape of her neck. Lift. Drop. Shake it out. Yes, a definite shake of her head is given to settle long blonde locks into place and a wonderful smile melts across her face. Wonderful? More a smile of delicious mischief if one were being politically correct. A tug is given her robe to settle it back into place and a tiny brush of her hands is given her skirt. "I'm distraught that you think me not ladylike. Distraught. I might need to faint. Rowle," she says, mock pouting in Anthony's direction. "You are my witness to this awful injustice."

Gerald laughs, lifting his hands, palms out, in a sign of surrender. "Okay..you win. I apologize. How can I possibly make it up to you? Should I carry you all the way to town on my back? Want me to sing to you? I will…probably not well but I most certainly will." He's teasing of course. Right? He also narrows his eyes (and a grin) back toward the quieter Ravenclaw. "She's just so delicate. I can't believe she's not been carried away on the wind."

Anthony crosses his arms, "Pyrites, just say if you need a hand down, and so on, won't you?" He doesn't look entirely impressed by the acts of strength being done.

Sybil laughs, shaking her head. "Rowle. I'm down." And indeed she is, the petite blonde standing on her own two feet as she rights her clothing. She scrunches her nose in Gerald's direction. "If you sing to me, I might have to cover my ears and that would put me at a terrible disadvantage. I'd not be able to pull my wand and hex you for such terrible behaviour. Though… maybe I could hex myself. Have leeks grow out of my ears so I'd not have to listen to your terrible crooning. Fair warning, a boy serenaded me once outside my window and I was forced to use the water-making spell, I doused the melody right out of him." Supremely pleased with herself, she pulls the box of dead mice from her cloak and extricates one, tossing it Florries way, before turning and heading, one might assume, for the stairs.

"Good, because I hate singing." Gerald allows with a laugh, though he does send Anthony a roll of his eyes. "Come on Kitten. I'll walk you to your common before I head down to town." Assuming that she is going that way of course, "Later Rowle." Is offered over his shoulder before he reaches to lift Sybil up again, since she likes it so much. This time he's nice enough to use a basket carry.

Anthony rolls his eyes and clambers up towards the castle.

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