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Author Topic:  walk tall, act fine [quinn]  (Read 97 times)

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Sam Lynch [ Artist ]
36 Posts  •  26  •  straight  •  played by nan
walk tall, act fine [quinn]
« on: June 27, 2019, 09:40:00 AM »
They knew how to win a game, and they knew how to throw a party.

Sam had been newly graduated and stressed to fuck when they’d won the World Series, 1994, back before the band was big, when he’d still lived at home without a “real” job, and so he’d had little opportunity to enjoy their victory (though he’d had a bet going, at the time, and Liam still had the tattoo and, presumably, still had to tell his dates that he wasn’t actually Irish. Well, maybe not tonight.)

Now, of course, eight years later and a war and all sorts of crap later, he had the time and the means to party properly about it, which was what he was doing. He’d brought @Liam Thompson and @Charlie Baker, on grounds that this was a party and they ought to be here, and because this was the sort of party they’d never get in without his Irish Quidditch family connections, which was giving him a very good excuse to just drink with the boys and stay out of the fray. He wasn’t sulking— far from it— four and a half beers in, at the moment, he was crowing again about the match, to whoever would listen, or, failing that, to Charlie.

And the Seeker— she was youngish, probably close to Sam’s sister’s age, but what a catch that’d been— earlyish in the game, it’d only been 30-30, but unreal. @Quinn Regan herself was here, somewhere, he told Charlie (again.) Sometime he’d go and like, congratulate her, and shit. He wasn’t sure. He was tipsy. And he was happier, for the moment, babbling at Charlie— Liam was off talking to girls— and not making a fool out of himself.

“Unreal,” he said, for probably the fiftieth time, glancing back over at her, where she was schmoozing— or, more probably, being schmoozed to— and glancing back at Charlie, swigging his beer. “Like, I didn’t even see the Snitch, just— zoom zoom, and then game over.” He illustrated the zoom zoom with his index fingers, then glanced back at her, still surrounded by partygoers. “Reckon she’s busy. I should go and like, congratulate her, though, don’t you reckon? You know, she took my cousin’s job.”

Charlie craned his neck, following Sam’s gaze— “Reckon she’s thirsty?” he said, helpfully. “Oughta help her out, mate.”

Sam, drunk, did not get it for a long second; when he did (ohhhh) he nodded a concession and finished his beer— “Cheers.” and wove through the party to grab two more beers, to pull up at the edge of the circle around the seeker.

She was indeed being schmoozed to— Sam waited patiently for long enough for conversation to lull before he got to introducing himself; he was holding a bottle in each hand, so he just held one out— “Fancy a drink?” and added, a moment later, “Fantastic game. You know, my, ah, cousin had that job, back in— whatever— and I’m not even mad anymore, that was a bloody fantastic game. Top notch. Great catch.”

Was that overkill? It was honest, it had been a great catch.

[[ooc: permission from laura to mention charlie as above]]
« Last Edit: June 27, 2019, 09:41:13 AM by Nan »

the ability to remain sober and gracious is, indeed, a form of mild insanity

Quinn Regan [ Quidditch Player ]
2233 Posts  •  24  •  played by cstine
Re: walk tall, act fine [quinn]
« Reply #1 on: June 28, 2019, 06:06:16 AM »
She had been practicing not looking smug; she didn’t think she was very good at it, but she also didn’t really care. If she deserved one part of one day to be proud of herself (honestly she wasn’t limiting herself now or ever) then it should be this moment, this party, after this win. It didn’t make up for the World Cup Fiasco -- not making it past the group stage -- or the League Fiasco -- coming in third -- or her Life Fiasco -- no, Quinn wasn’t going to go there, not today. It was enough that Scotland had come last in the tourney, anyway.

Thankfully, the post-match party was a happy one and her rehearsed line (“It wasn’t just a win for the squad, it was a win for all of Ireland~”) was a little more palatable than the line for the other party (“At least we’re still Irish, right?”) but after she said it first at the press conference and then a million times more to everyone who congratulated her-- she was done sharing the credit with Ireland. It was her win.

(Yes she had been properly applauded and credited and admired but it was never enough.)

“I did it for Ireland,” she heard herself saying, the corners of her mouth starting to ache from smiling so much; whoever she had been talking to had now moved on to telling her about his grandson and his remarkable skills and how he wasn’t technically Irish would she mind terribly putting in a good word for him and—

Fancy a drink? “Please.” Quinn agreed to it without a second thought, before getting any sort of proper look; her sister had said she would bring her a drink ‘when she got around to it’ but apparently that equated to ‘never’ in CarlaLand. She brought her gaze back around after her very brief search for her sister, her smile softening just a bit as she tipped her bottle to his with an unheard clink.

She interrupted him with a quick, “Thanks,” before taking a sip of her beer and letting him finish his compliments. This was more like it, really. “Wait, wait—“ she lowered her beer, as if that would help her follow along a bit better. “You’re not mad about which part?” Not her top notch great catch fantastic game. “I won the game for you, mind.” She did, not the team— she let herself have this one. “For Ireland, y’know,” she added after another sip of her drink. It was just straight praise, exactly what she wanted.

Sam Lynch [ Artist ]
36 Posts  •  26  •  straight  •  played by nan
Re: walk tall, act fine [quinn]
« Reply #2 on: July 03, 2019, 06:01:10 AM »
“Welcome,” he said, first, when she thanked him. Automatic, like. He couldn’t say his brain was working with any reasonable capacity. Of course, he was five beers in.

She was shorter in person, that was the first thing Sam was noticing. Quinn— should he call her Regan? There was no way they’d met in years, he doubted they were on any names’ basis — clinked her bottle at his, grinned through his drunken ramblings before her brain evidently caught up— he hastened to reiterate. “My cousin had that job, ‘fore you did. Aiden Lynch. But—” she’d caught that he wasn’t mad, obviously, had seemed offended at the thought that there was anything to be mad about— “i’m not even mad, that was too good.”

It did not bear saying that Ireland could use the win (Kenmare was doing shittily and they’d been wiped out of the World Cup horrifically early) so he changed tack a bit, grinned and sipped at beer six. “Win for all of Ireland, I’m catching onto that,” he said, only a little bit ironically, “But I’m trying to believe it’s especially a win for me, I get to rub it in my mates’ faces for the next month. They’re English,” he added— he thought, vaguely, that she must have been at school for at least part of the time that he and the boys had, she wasn’t that much younger than him, but he’d be surprised if she’d paid attention to them.

(Entirely fair. Sam definitely hadn’t paid attention to her. He could not, even if he thought very hard, remember at all if he’d ever spoken to her, or even seen her ‘round at Hogwarts. Which, of course, he was not going to say to her.)

He was drunk, ish, which usually gave his already goofy smile a dopey edge— he tried valiantly to seem at least coherent. “Sam,” he said, and held out the non-beer-holding hand to shake, before realising it was his left and switching beer-holding hands. “Guess I coulda started with that.”

On second thought, that had been dumb— he already knew her name and they both knew it. Shit. At least he’d get an answer, though, about the any names’ basis. Just to say something (anything) else, he added, “I’m total crap at Quidditch, meself— impresses me that much more when I go see a game. This one wasn’t even that long, even.”
« Last Edit: July 03, 2019, 06:01:32 AM by Nan »

the ability to remain sober and gracious is, indeed, a form of mild insanity

Quinn Regan [ Quidditch Player ]
2233 Posts  •  24  •  played by cstine
Re: walk tall, act fine [quinn]
« Reply #3 on: July 11, 2019, 12:29:57 AM »
“Aiden Lynch,” she repeated. “Oops.” She hid her grin with her drink; of course she had deserved her job — Lynch had needed to retire for ages — but she hadn’t made it a habit of conversing with him or his family about how she had more or less stolen his job. She was on the brink of asking ‘how is he?’ but she didn’t think that she would come off as genuine caring about the answer; it didn’t seem like he wanted to press the topic again, anyway. Her catch had been ‘too good’, that was what mattered.

All of Ireland save for Ballycastle, she agreed internally as she sipped her beer again. She doubted she could stop being bitter about being knocked out — and forced to lose — that match. Technically it had been ruled a forfeit, but no one paid any mind to technicalities.

She was getting distracted by her losses instead of distracted by her wins. Or her company. “Only a month? Doubt I’d let them off that easy.” Not that she was close to anyone English, really. Emma was the only one who came to mind— she would be admired plenty without Quinn having to do anything but show up. She captained an English team, sure, but that seemed like bad form.

She probably should have asked after his friends, but she didn’t want to change the subject — away from her — just yet.

The beer wasn’t her favorite and she tried not to drink too much during the season but in her defense, the season usually started in January (and she was still making up for the drinking deficit she had suffered when pregnant), never mind that snitch she had just caught. The few swallows were going to her head. Or maybe it was all the attention. No, it was the beer; she was used to winning and being lauded for it.

She smiled and had another swallow before mirroring him and switching hands to free up her right one. “Quinn,” she said automatically, but he knew that already. “You started with the most important bit, I figure.” She smiled again; he had started with ‘great catch’, which it was; she wasn’t tired of hearing about it, either. “S’alright, I’m rubbish at—“ she didn’t have an example ready to go, though, so she shrugged and drank her drink instead “—whatever. Wasn’t even my best catch.” She had a list somewhere (and who was she kidding? She had it memorized).

“You see a lot of matches, then?” Hopefully her better ones, anyway.

Sam Lynch [ Artist ]
36 Posts  •  26  •  straight  •  played by nan
Re: walk tall, act fine [quinn]
« Reply #4 on: July 14, 2019, 08:54:54 AM »
Oops was not really the reaction he’d expected to her stealing his cousin’s job, but Sam would take it. He didn’t know whether he’d preferred actual remorse, anyway, he suspected he’d only feel bad about it.

“Oh, you know,” he said, “It’s Christmas, I’m in the mood to go easy, you know?.” Not that he thought they would have minded— @Charlie Baker didn’t like Quidditch much and @Liam Thompson seemed to enjoy it primarily when Sam’s team lost. “I’m a Wigtown fan, anyway, mostly ‘cause, you know, the mascot’s a knife.” In addition, Sam’s entire extended family covered the full map in Quidditch loyalty, but he was fairly sure that the only Wigtown fans were himself and Grandpa John, which only added to the appeal.

He’d started with the most important part, apparently— “What, my cousin?” he said jokingly, before he decided that it was time to stop steering conversation to his more attractive family members. “Your catch,” he said. “Good one.”

Fortunately Quinn seemed just as reluctant to change the subject from the catch as he was— though he suspected for a different reason, he was just truly too swamped with party-noise and alcohol to really think of anything else. She seemed to have the same problem— as she shrugged, he suggested, “Juggling.”

(Of course she could be secretly great at juggling, he supposed.)

“Grew up seeing ‘em,” he said. “My cousin—” cringe— “obviously, but my dad was a referee, too. Don’t get out so much lately, I was travelling last year.” She hadn’t said anything that suggested she recognised him, and for once he was going to pretend that he wasn’t famous, so he didn’t say what he’d been travelling for. “Two thousand, I went all the time, though, I think I had season tickets for the Wanderers. And, ‘course, I went for Ireland.”

He had another sip of beer and glanced wryly around at the party before he continued— “It’s been a while since I’ve been to one of these things, though. My brothers never want to come, I had to drag my mates out. The English ones.” This was probably too much about him— he added, “Guess you’re here with your team, right?”
« Last Edit: July 14, 2019, 08:55:03 AM by Nan »

the ability to remain sober and gracious is, indeed, a form of mild insanity

Quinn Regan [ Quidditch Player ]
2233 Posts  •  24  •  played by cstine
Re: walk tall, act fine [quinn]
« Reply #5 on: July 17, 2019, 06:52:01 PM »
“So we should move Four Nations to a less festive time of year? Wouldn’t mind not having obligations to be all cheery.” She smiled, though that didn’t last long; he mentioned his quidditch team and she raised a brow. “The mascot’s a knife,” she repeated, amused. Personally, she preferred to throw her support to squads she thought earned it — she couldn’t deny that it if she wasn’t Captain of the Falcons she wouldn’t support them — rather than the likability (?) of a mascot. Wigtown had interesting (and unnerving) pregame shows, anyway.

Never mind that Sam was readily admitting he didn’t support her non-National Team endeavors; she’d allow herself to be properly offended later, she decided.

Quinn laughed; her beer was half gone. “I’m great at juggling,” she lied, thankful she had one hand full — good enough excuse — in case he called her bluff. Her joke? It was a blurry line between the two. She thought she was funny, at least. His enjoyment was (a close) second only to hers.

“My dad works at the Ministry.” Quinn made a face, like everyone -- sorry Alex -- worked at the Ministry, it was the least interesting thing about her. Never mind that she couldn’t exactly picture her dad as a quidditch referee -- not a professional one, anway, nothing more than corralling (most of) his children when they needed it. But traveling? That was much more her speed than talking about (boring) professions that weren’t even hers to begin with. She realized a little late that Sam worked at the Ministry, what with the traveling and all, but she had already kind of apologized for taking his cousin’s job (and successfully didn’t insult him in the same breath) so that would have to be good enough.

“Be nice to travel more. I bought a boat, think I used it twice.” It was still moored in Falmouth, she thought. She hoped. Maybe she ought to check on it. “Busy, y’know.” She traveled plenty for quidditch, but she was always doing quidditch things; there was also the small detail of her small child to consider.

She made a face at his year two thousand quidditch watching. The Falcons hadn’t had a great season until two thousand one and she hadn’t been a starter for Ireland yet. “Must not have been that good, if you can’t remember.” She smirked, had some more of her beer. Hopefully he didn’t memorize historical league standings like she did.

Quinn glanced around as he did, pretending to be interested in locating his mates. “My brothers are here--” somewhere-- “but they didn’t exactly get a choice.” She smirked again; Niall was at the point of not admitting he had missed his mam while at school, but he was sticking awfully close by to her, so wherever she went, he went; Alex technically had the choice, but he was too supportive to express his opinions, she guessed. “Team, yeah. We’re sharing credit for the win. Or whatever’s left after crediting Ireland.” She rolled her eyes that any credit should be given to anyone but her, hoping too late that her publicist hadn’t been paying close attention to her.

“You want another?” She motioned toward his beer, figuring she would need another by the time she found them refills anyway.

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