<div class="floatleft">(https://media.vanityfair.com/photos/5884e18f9a46ec0e311bfdf6/master/w_768,c_limit/sundance-2017-aubrey-plaza.jpg)</div><div class="floatright">(https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/harrypotter/images/a/ae/Hogwartscrest.png/revision/latest?cb=20110806202805)</div><table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td><strong>NAME:</strong> Audrey Thorup (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=299655.msg14662805#msg14662805)<br/><strong>YEAR:</strong> Fourth | Ravenclaw <br/><strong>BLOOD STATUS:</strong> Muggle born <br/><strong>WAND:</strong> 10 ½ | Larch | Snallygaster heartstring<br/><strong>WEARING:</strong> Ravenclaw uniform (https://i.pinimg.com/originals/53/e9/47/53e947cfa3e486f27561656454291927.jpg)<br/><strong>DATE | TIME:</strong> Monday, 2 September 2019 | Evening <br/><strong>LOCATION:</strong> Great Hall | Ravenclaw table<br/><strong>CONTENT:</strong> Bitches love me<br/><strong>MOOD MUSIC:</strong> Mindless Self Indulgence - Bitches (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d_lZjm5YQmw)<br/><strong>TAGGING:</strong> Derek | Open</td></tr></tbody></table><br/><hr/><br/>Derek was really cute. Audrey especially liked how sometimes her bawdy words caught him so off guard, that he wound up coughing and nearly choking. Maybe it meant she had an asphyxiation fetish, or something. “Breathe, Derek, breathe!” She emphatically told him, a hand patting his back. She turned to the side, speaking to no one in particular, but earning the creeped out looks of several peers. “We’re not gonna lose him, not again!” Derek managed to catch his breath again, but if he continued eating while she carried on saying outrageous things, it was only a matter of time before his next bout would take over.<br/><br/>He cleared his throat and corrected his wording so that this time he was actually saying words and not hacking his lungs out. Audrey’s smile was visible when he called her sweet, but then when he mentioned ‘if’ he got picked, her lips sank into a frown. “So you are planning to enter.” She said, flatly. She supposed she should have been happy for him. But the whole ordeal felt so much like the Hunger Games to her, that she just couldn’t bring herself to support it. Maybe she’d organize a student protest - keep the champions from harm’s way by literally blocking their paths. Then again, in the magical world, it was probably pointless.<br/><br/>She changed the topic to Dior and in the back of her mind, wondered if talking to her blonde friend would help in convincing Derek not to participate. Not that she could trust Dior with even a coffee order. Her dark gaze strolled from Dior in the distance to Derek beside her, and she was pleasantly surprised to see that he was looking back at her, shrugging off the comments about his sister. Audrey couldn’t blame him. Didn’t he get tired of the spotlight always being on her? He must have.<br/><br/><em>”What are you doing tonight?”</em>Audrey almost didn’t catch the question, blinking at him as if she needed another moment or two to process his words. “Um… nothing.” She admitted, knowing it sounded lame. But, it was true. And there was a hint of hopefulness in her somewhat robotic tone, hinting that she was hoping he took the hint to mean that she wanted to make plans with him. “I mean, it's only the first day back. I don't have my voodoo dolls made yet.”<br/><br/>He offered to show her his own personal Hell and then shimmied his shoulders, making her chuckle. “Okay, Shaq.” Derek stopped as quickly as he started, but that only made Audrey continue to chuckle. He admitted that it would be nice to get to spend some time alone with her and she couldn’t keep her brows from waggling back at him.<br/><br/>“Trying to get me alone, I see.” She nodded appreciatively, trying to squash her nervousness with weirdness. “As long as you aren’t planning to sacrifice me on the altar, I think that sounds… brilliant.” She purposely said the word that so many Brits liked using, with as much of an ambiguous American accent as possible. Audrey leaned away, taking one last swig of juice, then turned on the bench seat to face him, which caused her skirt to open and kept her legs apart - straddling the seat. It was something she often did - forgot she was wearing a skirt.<br/><br/>“I’m ready for a<em>hell</em>of a time... If you are.” She couldn’t tell if she was being too obvious. At this point, she didn’t really care.