Merlin, who isn't quite feeling like himself after the clandestine meeting with the other Animagus students, catches this comment to no one and glances at Mags, hiding a cheerful trill of laughter behind one hand. He's swaying on his feet a little, feeling light-headed but mellow and inexplicably delighted as midnight approaches and the party buzzes with new energy. Everything's shiny.
"Is it going the way you expected?" he asks, tactlessly pointing at a few of the pre-kiss pairs that are starting to form. Good for them, he supposes.
"I didn't make any actual wagers," Mags says with a chuckle, before taking a sip of her drink. "But I would have won a couple bucks at least. Still, what the hell is Fitz doing..." She leans forward with a narrowing of her eyes, her smile widening. "Is he getting propositioned? Nice."
Her eyes skip over to where Uriah is dragging Tybalt somewhere and she rolls her eyes, albeit with a flash of hurt that never seems to go away. "What about you?" she asks Merlin instead, choosing to not address that old wound again. "Feeling your oats, as they so inelegantly like to say around here?"
"Getting played, more like," Merlin quips in return, glancing toward Fitz and the fast-talking Cicero. That kid's always up to something. Or maybe he's just got a sneaky face. This thought makes him start to laugh again and he covers his too-warm face with his hands for a moment. He looks up again just in time to see Mags watching Uriah and Tybalt disappear somewhere. She looks...he doesn't know what. But he's relieved when she doesn't say anything about it.
It takes him a moment to register what she does say, though. Feeling his oats? He mouths the unfamiliar phrase then shakes his head. "Me? I don't..." He moves his hands in meaningless, fluttering gestures before concluding, "...with all this. I dunno. Who cares?" This isn't as clear as he seems to think it is, but he turns the question back to Mags as though he's provided a perfectly suitable answer, "What about you?"
"Ha." It's amused but less than a full laugh, as she shakes her head towards Fitz and Cicero. "If Fitz gets taken, then he deserves it." She doesn't know the sophomore as well, but she has to admire his confidence. Or his desire to stir shit up, whichever he wants to call it.
She shakes off the stupid, maudlin thoughts about Uriah and that familiar spike of doubt that she gets, and pastes on a half smile as he flouders with an answer. "You don't...." she repeats, with a flutter of her own hand, grinning as she does so. "Come on, our last year at the good ole Peck and certainly your last chance at a New Year's kiss with a classmate. Well, assuming we don't all still hang out next year." She shrugs at it being turned onto her. "Ehh....the cuties I like haven't shown the same interest in return, so I'm probably staying solo." She slants him a look. "Not that you aren't cute." She considers Merlin a decent enough friend, so loyalty makes the words genuine.
Edited (who typed this, its full of errors) 2020-01-02 01:28 (UTC)
"I'm very cute," Merlin corrects matter-of-factly, punctuating the point by smiling with uncharacteristic sweetness and framing his round, dimpled cheeks with his slim hands. The effect is practiced (the result of a lifetime with doting, bossy sisters) and undeniably adorable but short-lived as he drops his hands and and goes back to looking at Mags, considering.
After a pause, he shakes his head. It makes him feel a little woozy, but not in a bad way. "All that applies to you too, you know. Last year at good ol' Peck and last chance and...whatever. Besides. It's not your fault if the cuties have bad taste. Lots of people have bad taste. Just means you get to move on."
"You are adorable, and obviously, I don't have bad taste," Mags jokes, winking at him, but she follows it with a sigh. "Alright, I do, as evidenced by the Uriah-pocalypse. And I hold that up as further evidence that I am shit at moving on." She feels around for her drink. She needs more of that.
"But annnnyway, maybe we don't need to settle just because it's our last year." Her slightly down look changes as she adds, "And now I just gave you an out for a kiss. I was so going to goad you into smooching someone." She leans closer, conspiratorially. "Who would you pick if I did?"
The sigh and the shift in Mags' mood isn't entirely lost on Merlin, but he doesn't know how to respond to it immediately either. Not with his mind all cloudy and his mood unnaturally buoyant, both making it difficult to focus. He glances back into the party, almost becomes lost in the noise and the motion of it, then turns back to say, "...Doesn't matter if you're shit at it. Gotta do it anyway or you're just wasting time. And he's not worth it." He knows it's not that easy, but it's the truth, so what else is he supposed to say?
This moment of serious reflection ends abruptly when she turns the conversation back toward him and moves close, though. Reflexively, he leans away. Then blinks at her assertion and huffs a breath and leans back in, even getting up on his tiptoes to put his eye level closer to hers. "You're fishing. You think I have a crush or something?" He may be high, but she's not exactly being subtle.
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peckenpaugh2019-12-31 11:43 am
MIDNIGHT: Mags and Merlin
"Is it going the way you expected?" he asks, tactlessly pointing at a few of the pre-kiss pairs that are starting to form. Good for them, he supposes.
Re: MIDNIGHT: Mags and Merlin
Her eyes skip over to where Uriah is dragging Tybalt somewhere and she rolls her eyes, albeit with a flash of hurt that never seems to go away. "What about you?" she asks Merlin instead, choosing to not address that old wound again. "Feeling your oats, as they so inelegantly like to say around here?"
MIDNIGHT: Mags and Merlin
It takes him a moment to register what she does say, though. Feeling his oats? He mouths the unfamiliar phrase then shakes his head. "Me? I don't..." He moves his hands in meaningless, fluttering gestures before concluding, "...with all this. I dunno. Who cares?" This isn't as clear as he seems to think it is, but he turns the question back to Mags as though he's provided a perfectly suitable answer, "What about you?"
MIDNIGHT: Mags and Merlin
She shakes off the stupid, maudlin thoughts about Uriah and that familiar spike of doubt that she gets, and pastes on a half smile as he flouders with an answer. "You don't...." she repeats, with a flutter of her own hand, grinning as she does so. "Come on, our last year at the good ole Peck and certainly your last chance at a New Year's kiss with a classmate. Well, assuming we don't all still hang out next year." She shrugs at it being turned onto her. "Ehh....the cuties I like haven't shown the same interest in return, so I'm probably staying solo." She slants him a look. "Not that you aren't cute." She considers Merlin a decent enough friend, so loyalty makes the words genuine.
MIDNIGHT: Mags and Merlin
After a pause, he shakes his head. It makes him feel a little woozy, but not in a bad way. "All that applies to you too, you know. Last year at good ol' Peck and last chance and...whatever. Besides. It's not your fault if the cuties have bad taste. Lots of people have bad taste. Just means you get to move on."
MIDNIGHT: Mags and Merlin
"But annnnyway, maybe we don't need to settle just because it's our last year." Her slightly down look changes as she adds, "And now I just gave you an out for a kiss. I was so going to goad you into smooching someone." She leans closer, conspiratorially. "Who would you pick if I did?"
MIDNIGHT: Mags and Merlin
This moment of serious reflection ends abruptly when she turns the conversation back toward him and moves close, though. Reflexively, he leans away. Then blinks at her assertion and huffs a breath and leans back in, even getting up on his tiptoes to put his eye level closer to hers. "You're fishing. You think I have a crush or something?" He may be high, but she's not exactly being subtle.