<div class="floatleft">(https://24.media.tumblr.com/d32e64c7793514dd2ee9190f2b890625/tumblr_mzsfxr3auR1r7wrq1o1_400.jpg)</div><strong>Character Name:</strong>Gustav Giuseppe Beauvais<br/><strong>Year/House:</strong>Second Year, Bellefeuille<br/><strong>Relationship Status:</strong>Attached<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>white shirt, slacks, dress shoes, and suspenders (https://24.media.tumblr.com/9b1597461e7b37d3f7cf74f1f56728c4/tumblr_mzeyf42ZIQ1t6yu02o1_500.jpg)<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Lyon carriage<br/><strong>Date:</strong>September 1<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Anders<hr/><br/>Even a blind man would have noticed the change in Anders’ demeanor at the mention of witches and wizards’ favorite highflying sport. Gustav had the exact opposite reaction last year when he discovered Quidditch for the first time in his entire life. All those students whirling in the air and not to forget the sound of bones being cracked or popped out of place by bludgers made his heart try to climb out of his body and make a run for the hills. In the end, it was his stomach which succeeded.<br/><br/>His face flushed bright red with obvious embarrassment at the memory of spewing his guts onto the pitch’s freshly trimmed grass. So why in the hell did he seek to place himself in a predicament where the horrid experience might be repeated? Simply put, Gustav was a masochist. Not really. The true reason was determination and not wanting to cower on the sidelines because of fear. “That’s always been the plan,” Gustav replied honestly with a reassuring pat to his own stomach in attempt to calm his sprouting anxiety. His thick brows rose slightly when Anders mentioned the year in which he joined the Quidditch team.<br/><br/>“Same year as me.” For whatever reason whether if it was due to Gustav looking up to Anders or not, some of his anxiety about the future tryouts dissipated. At the mention of his house, his mind trekked back in time to recall his first experience as a fan. Words could not describe how he felt. Looking back, he probably never looked more like a muggleborn during his entire first year. It was not until the snitch was captured did he finally release a held breath. His rapture did not stop with the first game. Quidditch, throughout the school year regardless of which house played, was always a marvel to experience even form the safety of the stands. The relaxed grin from earlier reappeared on Gustav’s face before he allowed his body to slouch into the plush cushions of his seat. “I wouldn’t want you to do anything else other than play your best on the field with me. Then afterwards, you can buy me a beer to make up for making me look like a fool.”<br/><br/>He was actually surprised when Anders seemed resistant to the idea of becoming captain. Gustav always assumed that was one of the upperclassman’s goals. After all, what was the point in all that hard work if one did not move up the hierarchical ladder? He shook his head from side to side at what sounded like excuses then turned slightly in his seat. It seemed time for their roles to switch with Gustav becoming the motivator and Anders the pupil. “Surely there is time! You just need to loosen up that tight schedule of yours or multitask as my man would say. Do your homework at the same as creating a clever play for your grunts. Read a book while leading them through grueling workouts. Anything is possible.”<br/><br/>Gratefulness and appreciation shadowed Gustav’s face when Anders expressed a willingness to fit him into his routine. “I would appreciate it. In exchange, if I do make the team, I will do my damn hardest to make your life a living hell on the field.”  His tone was lighthearted because the possibility of that becoming a reality was slim to none. Gustav became quiet for a moment until he voiced another one of his concerns which haunted him over the summer. "Are you looking forward to any class in particular this year other than you know Care of Magical Animals?"