Feisty-Pants — Roleplayer Guild

Hannah Beckings - The Red Fox

An interjection of cunning words from behind her caused Hannah to turn sharply in response, it was a voice she could never forget; a voice that had even almost caught her once in her other escapades. Of anyone in the school, only he had once come close to catching the infamous Red Fox; initially, her lips dared to part in order to defend herself and deny any involvement, yet she wasn't even given a chance. 

Of course just like their chess matches, the accursed boy always seemed to be one anticipatory step ahead. Finding every little niche and minute little detail that she might have missed in the advent of a more hastily laden plot. Thanks to him, she had been forced to resort to less commonly used tactics in Wizard's chess of which for a short time were rather effective; only to have him naturally adapt and force her unto the drawing board once again. 

Oddly, well, not necessarily so, she similarly had to do the exact same when it came to her infiltration and escapes. The last famed elope she had to use was a summoning charm to escape by jumping from the library windows themselves. Plucked from the air was she by her Firebolt, and off she tore across the skies before either Adrian or the prefects could recover. 

For some reason the prefects had half the mind to try and bribe the brilliant Quidditch tactician to help them apprehend the wily Fox. 

Thought of this brought a light smirk to her face as he went on explaining how he knew what she had done so easily, and she simply rested the softened curve of her chin upon her palm while she waited for him to finish. Once he mentioned the slightly charred hem of her sleeve, she sighed and rolled her eyes at this thought.

"And that, Adrian is where you might be incorrect. My family isn't very wealthy as you know, so these just might be robes from the previous year as I didn't grow too terribly much from fifteen into sixteen; see?" Seizing part of the fabric, the robes she was wearing certainly bore the wear and tear of at least a year's schooling at Hogwarts. "The searing upon the hem is entirely consequential at that point for me, and I very much doubt you'll be searching the sleeves of every Fourth, Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh year that sits upon this table. That would simply be unjust search and seizure. Not to mention, could have a Slytherin or a Hufflepuff just as easily done it, and intentionally thrown off their colors to draw their suspicion to Ravenclaw?" 

She clicked her tongue twice in disappointment. "To search one, you must search all. Not quite the Échec et mat as you thought it would be, no?" Brushing off her own sleeves, the clever little witch looked to him curiously with that little knowing smirk of hers still playing across her lips. "So, why are you so late to the Hall? Did you think that there was more mischief afoot? Or were you looking for a new seeker for the season, hm?"

A look of disgust momentarily glimpsed past her expression as the scarf suddenly turned Red and Gold, but with a tap of her own wand she was able to fix it to glare indignantly at the boy across from her.

"Very funny. Perhaps if you had a better Seeker, you wouldn't have lost at the Quidditch Cup last year."
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