|
|
Post by misslinnyb on Apr 22, 2011 0:09:13 GMT -5
His mind had delved into places that any teenage boy would know with some familiarity. While there were no teachers at Hogwarts worth a dirty daydream, there were plenty of attractive pureblood mothers. There was something appealing in the forbidden. He'd never actually bed Bletchley's mum but the thought of being locked in a room with her was one that had entered his mind more than once. A satisfied smirk evident on his face, the Slytherin continued to look the woman over - until, of course, he felt the pressure of a hand on his thigh. This Ravenclaw obviously knew what she was doing and she was a persistent little bugger that was certain. Swallowing harder than he'd intended, Marcus pretended that he hadn't even noticed what she had started doing.
|
|
|
|
Post by morag mcdougal on Apr 22, 2011 0:19:26 GMT -5
How was Morag supposed to get what she wanted if Marcus didn't give her something more to work with? She was becoming awfully impatient with him, thought about taking the rest of her Firewhiskey and dumping it over his head, that would get his attention, but not in the way that Morag needed. This playing hard to get shit was annoying as hell. Marcus was dangerously close to forcing her to drastic measures. What the hell? Morag couldn't care less about anyone in this pub. Slipping off her stool she went around to the other side of Marcus, blocking his view of the older woman and positioned herself between his legs as best she could in the close confides, though that only made it better really, placed her hands on either of his thighs not bothering with being shy about their placement and planted a kiss on his lips, all in one swift movement. "I really don't like being ignored."
|
|
|
|
Post by misslinnyb on Apr 22, 2011 18:40:45 GMT -5
Marcus had thoroughly absorbed himself in the filthy thoughts that went along with the forbidden and unknown that had personified itself in the form of a darkly dressed witch. He was sorely tempted to actually approach her but he didn't need the drama that was sure to cause. Besides, one chattering female was more than enough! He had no idea what was to come. As she stood blocking the object of his attention, Flint eyed the Ravenclaw with interest. Was she jealous? His mouth started to form a slight smirk when they were stopped by a swiftly placed kiss from Morag. She was jealous! This really was too brilliant an opportunity to pass up. "Problem?" he asked, letting his eyes move from her face as he shifted to look around her.
|
|
|
|
Post by morag mcdougal on Apr 22, 2011 21:12:25 GMT -5
Jealous wouldn't have been the word that Morag would have used for the way she was feeling at the moment. Annoyed however, fit the bill to a tee. How could Marcus show so little interest? It wasn't like Morag was always as persistent as she was currently being. What annoyed her just as much as her efforts seemingly going to waste though was the fact that the reason she had shown any interest in Flint in the first place was beginning to be pointless. "Besides your apparent Oedipus complex," Fitting enough considering all that woman was to Morag was some motherly figure. "No." Her sharp tongue couldn't be restrained at the moment.
|
|
|
|
Post by misslinnyb on Apr 23, 2011 12:28:05 GMT -5
It was apparent that the Ravenclaw girl was either highly jealous or else she was starting to get annoyed with him. Either way, Marcus found it amusing. He'd found something to get to her and he wasn't going to let it go. Even despite her persistent spirit and knack for knowing how to make a bloke's hormones rage, Flint found more entertainment in annoying her to no ends. If girls could chatter and gossip to annoy him, he could push back until she either stormed off and left him to his glass of firewhiskey and newly acquired gloves or until she gave up and bent to his will. He didn't care which happened first. "Sit down then," he said rather plainly.
|
|
|
|
Post by morag mcdougal on Apr 23, 2011 20:13:46 GMT -5
Morag was in the perfect position to shove Marcus of the stool and that idea did take hold a a few seconds spitefulness, but she wasn't stupid. Or at least hadn't been driven to being that stupid yet. She wasn't used to playing hardball when it came to this sort of thing. It should have been simple as it always was- Morag flirted a little and then she got what she wanted, but no, Marcus had to be probably the only guy to ever not take advantage of a good thing. Sure, Morag really didn't have any interest in him like that but it was necessary for what she did want, or at least she had thought it was. His instruction that she sit back down made her rethink that though. There was still a perfectly good Firewhiskey that needed drinking so Morag obliged, let rude comments loose only internally.
|
|
|
|
Post by misslinnyb on Apr 25, 2011 13:17:52 GMT -5
Marcus was still lost as to what this girl's deal was. Most Ravenclaw girls were not known to seductresses or sluts; that was what Slytherin girls did. Most females in general did not like to be bossed around or bullied...something about equal rights and such. This Ravenclaw girl, however, had flaunted her figure to get discounts, did not flinch when he'd practically yanked her to the pub and had tried to use her body to get something else from him. This was all too confusing to him so he put it out of his mind and finished off his drink without a word further.
|
|
|
|
Post by morag mcdougal on Apr 25, 2011 16:46:44 GMT -5
Sipping on her Firewhiskey, Morag angled her body so that she almost had her back to Marcus, but all the way. Turning your back on someone like him was never a good idea. Her finger idly ran over the surface of the bar along the grooves in the wood. Silence, oh how she loathed it but Morag hadn't yet come up with something that Marcus would be willing to talk about. There was Quidditch but that would just have him boasting about Slytherins skill, which happened to be what Morag was interested in. Maybe that could work for her though.
|
|
|
|
Post by misslinnyb on Apr 26, 2011 12:07:29 GMT -5
Without really thinking about McDougal or anything else at all really, Marcus went about sitting on his stool rather carelessly. That was, of course, until the barman made his return to collect the money for their drinks. "What makes you think your firewhiskey's any better than what I could get cheaper elsewhere?" he questioned with a spiteful grin, "I'm not paying a whole galleon for two little drinks." So what if he always refused to pay full price for things! He'd have to be a little more careful in Knockturn Alley than he had been at the Quidditch shop but it would be worth it.
|
|
|
|
Post by morag mcdougal on Apr 26, 2011 15:27:15 GMT -5
Finishing off her Firewhiskey, just about the time the man came back over, Morag looked at Marcus sidelong for a moment. He was so bloody difficult. He had the money so what was the purpose of haggling the price with everything that he purchased, other than to be a jerk? It had been him who wanted to come to this particular establishment in the first place so if Flint had wanted a cheaper price he should have taken them elsewhere. No longer able to keep her irritation with him in check Morag didn't even try to less her tone. "Marcus, just pay the man." She snapped, or rather, she demanded.
|
|
|
|
Post by misslinnyb on May 19, 2011 12:04:06 GMT -5
"How 'bout you pay him," said Marcus rather bluntly, a smirk evident on his face. So what if he had suggested the place and made the deal with her. He'd finally gotten her to raise her tone and that was what mattered most. Sure it didn't help him get any top secret Quidditch information out of her but, as far as he was concerned, he'd succeeded in getting under her skin. If he pushed just a little harder, he could probably make the Ravenclaw explode and then he'd forever be a little annoyance at the back of her mind. Then, and then alone, would he be able to get what he wanted.
|
|
|
|
Post by morag mcdougal on May 19, 2011 13:14:50 GMT -5
Her feathers were a bit ruffled, so to speak, by this point. But Morag didn't like to get too huffy in public. Instead she smirked translating her thoughts into words not a moment later. "Okay," She then addressed the barman saying, "we know who wears the pants here don't we?" Insinuating, of course, that Marcus wasn't taking charge like a real man should. "Would you like to borrow one of my skirts while I'm at it?" This to Marcus. She reached for the money in the small clutch purse she carried with her. From the corner of her eye Morag noticed that the barkeep was stifling his laughter.
|
|
