<div class="floatleft">(https://pmcwwd.files.wordpress.com/2015/01/luz-pavon041.jpg?w=640&amp;h=415&amp;crop=1)</div><div class="floatright">(https://i.imgur.com/MbTutcl.png)</div><table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td><strong>NAME:</strong> babs velez. (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=299655.msg14664118#msg14664118)<br/><strong>YEAR:</strong> four.<br/><strong>BLOOD STATUS:</strong> half blood.<br/><strong>WAND:</strong> 11" | dogwood | white river monster spine<br/><strong>WEARING:</strong> a scavenged school uniform. oversized male shirt, undersized female jacket. no pants! don’t worry, <acronym title="”impossible!”">she’s decent.</acronym> <br/><strong>DATE | TIME:</strong> 2nd september / evening. <br/><strong>LOCATION:</strong> beauxbatons grand hall <br/><strong>CONTENT:</strong> love, friendship, wishful truancy, lush behavior, reminiscing. <br/><strong>TAGGING:</strong> ria, juliette, gamon, open.</td></tr></tbody></table><br/><br/><hr/><br/><div style="text-align: justify;">Babs didn’t believe in hangovers. The secret to avoiding it, in her experience, was to be always a little bit drunk or somewhat tipsy. Until of course, the situation became dire, but for now, she’d cross that bridge when she stumbled onto it. Hopefully no time soon. To her great fortune, she’d fallen asleep wasted and woken up buzzed, inside someone else’s closet in someone else’s dorm. So it made perfect sense to try on someone else's clothes. <br/><br/>The shirt swooped down to her mid thighs. This was why she loved tall men! Their clothes made for the best dresses. And the jacket. It hated her ribs but shit, did she love it. She’d buttoned the jacket off so that the shirt went floof! around her hips and all together, she found the whole thing <em>très chic</em> as fuck. Whoever’s jacket it was, they were somehow even tinier and more flat chested than Babs. She sort of wanted to meet them just so she could shake their hand. Not return the jacket of course. She had plans for this jacket. The type of plans that involved no blouse underneath and a valiant attempt at actual cleavage on her part. Besides, what else would she remember <em>what’s their name?</em> with, if not their charmingly small outerwear. <br/><br/>Not bothering to go back to her own dorm had paid dividends. Babs had, for once, shown up early only to fall asleep in her seat, wake up, and realized she’d chosen the wrong spot. Ria was way, way over somewhere and these other people were nice. Some smelled goods. Others looked good. But Babs had her heart set on a certain, specific seat-mate. She sprung up from her old seat and bounced over to her new one, tapping the shoulders and heads of students she’d considered friends (her enemies got <em>pokes</em>) on her way there. As soon as she made room for her butt next to Ria’s butt, Babs freed herself of the restrictive jacket and revealed a shirt whose shoulders were too wide not to slip off at least one of hers. Everyone kept saying a name and it sounded so familiar. Oh right! <br/><br/>“Valentine, Valentine,” she cooed and then flopped against Ria’s side. “Will you be mine?” she asked her and made the offer more attractive with a strong eyebrow waggle. “Aw,” she added, gazing up front, taking in his cracked voice and fumbling words. She agreed. He was cute, much like an ugly puppy, and Babs’s heart went out to him. So she had every intention to open her mouth and emit the most supportive of cheers. Instead, she cried out, “Make it <em>during</em> classes! Cretin.” <br/><br/>Oh well. Her heart had been in the right place and, as they say, it was the thought that mattered. No, that sounded wrong. And did it really matter, if she was the only one to hear the thoughts? Did any of her thoughts really matter unless they manifested themselves in her words and actions? Her head hurt. Great, all this thinking had pushed her into the beginning of a hangover. She kept leaning against Ria for as long as she could get away with and decided hey, she’d already thought thoughts. Why not think some more.<br/><br/>The Triwizarding Tournament sounded fun. She’d never been to the UK sober before and she still wasn’t sure that hadn’t been Germany they’d landed in. There’d be a whole new hunting ground waiting for her there. Rich with chumps and suckers who’d never wandered far out of the village and, best of all, never ran across a Velez before. She prayed they hadn’t, at least. They’d never know what hit them. <br/><br/>“Pigs <em>always</em> know how to party.” Babs was an expert on pigs. <br/></div>