"Down in the grounds... it's a stadium, or something. I'm not sure what the sport would be, but it must be played on brooms."
In the corridor, Matt begins to realise how tired he actually is. Still, damned if he's going straight to bed. Especially now that they're going flying.
"Quidditch. I have been reading about it. It is rather complicated."
L starts explaining the rules as they set off on the walk down to the grounds. It's a surprisingly large castle, but Quidditch is a surprisingly complicated sport.
"... they hit flying balls at each other's heads? While they're flying?" Matt blinks. "Wow. Being able to heal injuries so easily made these guys pretty casual about it, huh?"
And, voila, they're in the Entrance Hall. It's only a short walk to the pitch, and it's lucky Matt was already wearing his vest because it's a bit chilly.
"And catching people while they hurtle downwards from great heights. I am fairly competent at hanging on to a broom, I think, but if struck in the face with a lump of metal I might lose my grip."
L is looking around for any structure that might house brooms.
There's a sort of shed to one side; that's where Matt found his broom last time, and he heads over to it now.
"It might be interesting to watch, though," he comments, looking for one sturdy enough for the both of them. "Uh - Quidditch, I mean. Not you falling off a broom."
He could be wrong. It sounds like things have changed a lot here, from when they were described in the textbook he was reading. He selects for them a broom that looks like it's not going to drop out of the sky.
"You should know, 'mobilicorpus' catches falling bodies. In case of a crisis."
"And I hope so slightly more than you do. I also do not think watching me fall off a broom would be amusing. Up."
It leaps obediently into his hand, and he walks them out to a space where they've got a little more room to take off.
"Maybe a league will play somewhere. I am not sure I would attend either; I have no particular interest in viewing organized sports." Even though he did used to play.
"You won't fall off. Nobody's throwing things at us, for one thing."
He hands L the spare goggles.
"I'm not that into sports either. I like playing sports games -" he means video games, obviously "-but sitting and watching..." Matt shrugs. "I get bored too easily."
"You could play them." He pulls the goggles on, and like so much else in his life... they make him look mildly ridiculous. This time like a bizarre, big-eyed insect.
It's somehow more obvious that he's biting his bottom lip.
"On a games system, sure. I was already bad at sports before I started smoking." And he'd started smoking fairly young.
At the sight if begoggled-L, Matt ducks his head to hide a laugh behind his collar. "You look awesome," he says. (You can sort of hear the laugh in his voice, nevertheless.) "You're sure you don't want me to steer?"
"That's right. Cigarettes do have that affect." He climbs on to the broom, at the front. "Maybe if the cold air wakes you up a little, yell and we can land and switch places. But it is really best that you do not, I think."
L has no interest in plummeting to his doom; even though he can't technically die, heights are bad enough as it is.
"I think being able to breathe is a key part of sports," Matt agrees.
He gets onto the broom behind L, then hesitates. Because Mello had asked, and Konata, and even Near had joked about it, and he isn't sure but he doesn't to make L uncomfortable nevertheless...
"Do you have a - like, a personal contact thing?" (He already asked this when they were making their way back from Slytherin the very first time, which is why he can't remember doing so.)
"Not really." With strangers, maybe. With people he doesn't particularly like. If it's threatening. Then it gets to be a problem, but this is Matt, and he isn't any of those things, even a little bit.
"We have done this before, anyways. I am comfortable, as long as you are." He gives Matt a nervous look, over his shoulder.
"Okay. Good." Matt looks... perhaps a little nervous too. THe relief doesn't cancel that out.
"And last time, you know..." Last time L had his arms around him, and people have different comfort zones, and he really doesn't want to make L uncomfortable. That would suck. "Anyway, this is fine."
So he climbs on behind L, sliding his arms around his waist.
"Don't fall off," murmurs L, and then kicks off the ground with an abruptness that is only half revenge for the blender ride Matt put him through last time. Hard enough to make him forget about being uncomfortable and focus on just holding on.
"Oh, the goggles do help." Matt might be forgiven for missing that. It's said quietly, and they're still going upwards fast enough that there's some wind.
"Whoa!" Matt laughs, arms tightening instinctively. They've taken off quickly enough (and unexpectedly enough) for his stomach to jump, and it feels good - fantastic - fast and high and for a moment he doesn't even feel tired.
It takes him a moment to realise what L's said. "They're useful, see?" As if this is the sole reason he's been wearing them constantly for years.
L makes a corner that'll head them out over the forest. It's deep, mysterious, and beautiful, and he's heard there are centaurs, unicorns and the like in it.
He makes a point of going in fast, swooping arcs. The idea is to get Matt out of his head, a little, and that's probably the way to go about it.
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Scratch that. He's always aware of the dangers. It's just that normally he doesn't really care, or is on the ball enough to bring the risk down.
"So are you going to try to sleep more often? Or just... so that it doesn't clash with anything?" He stands up, stretching.
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He's got no real motivation to pursue it, so...
"Can I leave my computer in your room in the mean time? We can be straight off."
L is even wearing his tennis shoes and sweater. (It was a cold morning, according to his internal temperature.)
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Matt opens a drawer and pulls out a spare pair of goggles, grinning at L. "Here's hoping they fit."
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"You were the one who got us the broom last time, so you will have to show me where."
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In the corridor, Matt begins to realise how tired he actually is. Still, damned if he's going straight to bed. Especially now that they're going flying.
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L starts explaining the rules as they set off on the walk down to the grounds. It's a surprisingly large castle, but Quidditch is a surprisingly complicated sport.
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And, voila, they're in the Entrance Hall. It's only a short walk to the pitch, and it's lucky Matt was already wearing his vest because it's a bit chilly.
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L is looking around for any structure that might house brooms.
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"It might be interesting to watch, though," he comments, looking for one sturdy enough for the both of them. "Uh - Quidditch, I mean. Not you falling off a broom."
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He could be wrong. It sounds like things have changed a lot here, from when they were described in the textbook he was reading. He selects for them a broom that looks like it's not going to drop out of the sky.
"You should know, 'mobilicorpus' catches falling bodies. In case of a crisis."
What with Murphy's Law being what it is.
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"School games? That sounds very... American high-school, doesn't it? I'll probably give it miss, if they do."
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It leaps obediently into his hand, and he walks them out to a space where they've got a little more room to take off.
"Maybe a league will play somewhere. I am not sure I would attend either; I have no particular interest in viewing organized sports." Even though he did used to play.
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He hands L the spare goggles.
"I'm not that into sports either. I like playing sports games -" he means video games, obviously "-but sitting and watching..." Matt shrugs. "I get bored too easily."
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It's somehow more obvious that he's biting his bottom lip.
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At the sight if begoggled-L, Matt ducks his head to hide a laugh behind his collar. "You look awesome," he says. (You can sort of hear the laugh in his voice, nevertheless.) "You're sure you don't want me to steer?"
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L has no interest in plummeting to his doom; even though he can't technically die, heights are bad enough as it is.
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He gets onto the broom behind L, then hesitates. Because Mello had asked, and Konata, and even Near had joked about it, and he isn't sure but he doesn't to make L uncomfortable nevertheless...
"Do you have a - like, a personal contact thing?" (He already asked this when they were making their way back from Slytherin the very first time, which is why he can't remember doing so.)
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"We have done this before, anyways. I am comfortable, as long as you are." He gives Matt a nervous look, over his shoulder.
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"And last time, you know..." Last time L had his arms around him, and people have different comfort zones, and he really doesn't want to make L uncomfortable. That would suck. "Anyway, this is fine."
So he climbs on behind L, sliding his arms around his waist.
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"Oh, the goggles do help." Matt might be forgiven for missing that. It's said quietly, and they're still going upwards fast enough that there's some wind.
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It takes him a moment to realise what L's said. "They're useful, see?" As if this is the sole reason he's been wearing them constantly for years.
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He makes a point of going in fast, swooping arcs. The idea is to get Matt out of his head, a little, and that's probably the way to go about it.
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It's sort of fun being the passenger sometimes.
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"It's a bit like the Hobbit." In more ways than he knows. "Miles of dark woods."
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Yeah, Matt's heard about those.
"Does that make us Gwahir, then? We should keep our eyes open for Dwarves in trees."
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