<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/K5HcwFT.jpg)</div><div class="floatright">(https://i.imgur.com/yuExVFv.png)</div><br/><table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td><strong>NAME:</strong> Mackenzie “Mack” O’Hare (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=299655.msg14674148#msg14674148)<br/><strong>YEAR:</strong> Fifth, Gryffindor<br/><strong>BLOOD STATUS:</strong> Half-Blood<br/><strong>WAND:</strong> Beech / 12” / Horned Serpent Horn (https://i.imgur.com/xVVNflt.jpg)<br/><strong>WEARING:</strong> Outfit in the photo<br/><strong>DATE | TIME:</strong> 5th October, Evening<br/><strong>LOCATION:</strong> Grace’s room<br/><strong>CONTENT:</strong> Flickering lightbulb moment<br/><strong>TAGGING:</strong> Grace</td></tr></tbody></table><br/><hr/><br/>She found the quiz… frustratingly vague and quite immature.<em>Who talks like this?</em>Who takes it seriously? She wanted to have a good laugh at it, to point at the screen and say something like “Grace! This was made by sexist robots!” while also making robotic dance moves, which she fancied that she was rather good at. But the moment she looked at Grace as she put down her answers that prickling sensation began to creep up along the back of her neck in warning.<em>Don’t do it,</em>it said. Once again, Mackenzie found herself in an alien landscape. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt Grace’s feelings or come across as… the asshole she knew she really was.<br/><br/>But it clicked. Finally. The reason for the introduction to Cosmo and the ulterior motive that had eluded Mackenzie until now. All thanks to that last question.<em>If this was your friend telling you about a guy she liked…</em><br/><br/>Like a halogen bulb, it flickered a few times but the lights finally came on.<br/><br/>“<em>Corey</em>,” her friend said.<br/><br/>She wasn’t entirely certain how to respond. Was Grace under the impression that Corey liked<em>her</em>? Before she could stop herself, Mack snorted before breaking out into a fit of laughter, mortified at herself but unable to help it. The redhead shook her head, waving her hands in a desperate attempt to ease distress her reaction may have caused. But she couldn’t breathe, and soon her own eyes were tearing up. She liked Corey, loved him even, as one would love one of their best mates. But there was no romance between them, no spark, no desire to throw him down on the bed or even basorexia.<br/><br/>But how did you explain that to someone who thought it in the first place? She wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands, her cheeks cramping from how wide her smile was. “No no no,” she shook her head again, putting her heart into it. She was trying. She was wretched at this.<br/><br/>“Grace… you’re precious and I love you.” The giggling wouldn’t stop, so she pressed her palms against each cheek, smooshing her lips together like a fish. “I love you like I love Corey, savvy? I love you two like I love haggis and rollercoasters and the sharp smell of petrichor. Oh, and socks. Warm socks straight from the dryer after a bath on a cold winter’s day.” Her hands dropped in her lap, finally able to get her giggles in order. “And I know it’s mutual; you love me despite the fact that I’m a wretched thing. Corey loves me because he knows I’ll always have his back. See?” She had a good way of<em>not</em>saying what she was meaning to say. But she was trying.<br/><br/>“Help me out, Grace,” she finally settled. “I can keep rambling if you really want me to but what I have with Corey is not what<em>you could have with him.</em>”<br/>