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Max and Brad
A question of names
Sun Dec 7, 2014 02:10
23.240.236.58

Max was sitting on his bed, propped up against a mountain of pillows, flipping through an old copy of Quidditch weekly. He had his usual stash beside him and every so often he would dip his hand in to grab one and shower the page with icing sugar. The door opened and Brad stuck his head through the gap.

"Did you know that our Beater is a girl?" he asked without a trace of irony.

"Keats?"

"No. The other one."

"Yeah, it came up," Max nodded. "Once or twice."

"You didn't tell me."

"Thought you knew," he shrugged.

"Huh."

The door closed and Max flipped over to the next page of his magazine. A moment later it opened again.

"What's her name?"

Max put the magazine down. "Seriously?" he asked. There was a reason the guy was Captain but observation clearly wasn't his strong point if he didn't even know her name. She'd been a Thestral for what, three years now?

"Yeah."

"No wonder she's always mad at you," he sighed and picked up his magazine again.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Orion. Her name is Orion," Max muttered.

"That's a boys name."

"Yeah, but as we've covered. She is a girl."

“Does she know?”

“That she’s a girl? Pretty sure she does. “

“That she has a boy’s name?”

Max thought it over and decided it was better to just not touch the subject more than he had to. “Try 'Ri'. Makes it easier.”

“Ri.” Brad thought about that. “Not as bad. “ The door shut. Then reopened “Ri what?”

“Hardy.”

“ Like the quiet dork who went crazy on Derby?”

“Mm-hm. That's her brother. The actual dude.

“Huh. Explains some things.”

“Explains what?”

“The crazy. The temper. In the blood, right.”

“I’m not going to answer that, she’s probably right behind you.”

Brad looked. “She’s not."

"Yet. You done with the questions? I'm scared for my hinges.”

Brad's glares bounced ineffectively off of Max, he grumbled something about the writing in that particular magazine going downhill of late and shut the door behind him. Max watched the door until he was sure it wouldn't open again, turned a page, and reached for another bit of his stash, wiping his hand on his shirt to avoid getting inkprint in the icing.

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