Ha-bloody-ha.

Arms quickly making a pronounced act of curling over his chest almost defensively, Adam sunk into his chair and made a point of ignoring the entire sickening set-up of Puddifoot’s –from the pink cloth on his table, to the sickening scent of table and on to the freaking flying dolls. Adam might have been sick at that very instant, if not for the fact that he was actually managing to control his gag reflex. Around him, couples began to settle down into conversation, but he found himself quite alone at the moment –and whether he appreciated the lack of a standard blind date or cursed the social awkwardness of having been apparently stood-up at a Charity Event, he wasn’t quite certain yet. For now, he settled on shooting a hand into the air and taking hold of one of the flying Cupids, fingers twisting around the diaper as the thing that should have very much been inanimate came to sudden life, kicking and twisting. “Just get me a beer, would you?” He asked, though his tone of voice very much indicated an order as he let go and watched the doll fly rapidly away. The Cursebreaker had no way to be certain whether his request had been comprehended, but he’d simply have to hope.

I love you.

The words were chortled out in a sing-song voice that had Adam glancing up, slightly curious and slightly sickened that a couple might have actually just jumped into an admittance of love after only a few minutes of having settled down. But when the words were spoken once again, his eyes fell on the swinging hearts that hung from the ceiling and he realized with a groan that it appeared that Mister Bloody Potter was into the cheesy romantic stuff –which only made him want to stab someone to death. With his wand, if only to make it harder. As he waited for his date, he vowed to find out who the hell had signed him up for this mess –and he already had a pretty good idea who it could have been- and make them pay for their idea of a joke.

What the hell was Mathieu doing heading toward a teashop on Valentine’s Day? Should he not have been wooing a lady at a bar to take back to her place? Oh well if her husband came home, at least he’d have had a good time, and if Juliette walked into one more naked body in her apartment, Mathieu was pretty sure he’d be looking for another couch to crash on. Instead, he was walking into Puddifoot’s, a place the French wizard had heard only horror stories about, and shaking his head at the frilly frou-frou decorating the place. Truthfully, he was surprised there weren’t even more disgustingly sweet things filling the space.

He’d seen the advert in the Prophet, and though he would have much rather ignored it, Mathieu was always looking for new ways to get his name out there. The more charitable he was, the more involved in the community, the more likely he was to get a raise, or he’d at least see more field time. Plus… just because he wasn’t at a drunken bar didn’t mean he couldn’t pick up a midnight rendezvous… or two… or three. After all, it only took one tiny smile from the Quidditch star, perhaps a well-placed flex of muscles, and people melted like butter in his hands.

After finding out about animated dolls (wtf?) directing him to his table, he almost turned around and left right then. This was way too pretty for him, and he surely wasn’t going to be having any fun. Couldn’t he just leave a generous tip in the charity bin and skive off? All these things ran through the boy’s head as he shuffled his feet toward the table, and when he stood before the man who was to be his date for the moment, Mathieu balked. Men? Who said he was into dudes? I mean, he’d never said he wasn’t into dudes, but that didn’t mean that he wanted to flaunt his personal business to the whole world.

Mathieu had literally started to turn his back when he caught the man’s face and he stopped short. Merlin, he was pretty. He could chat with the bloke for a couple minutes, right? And then they’d change out and he’d get with a lady, and the world would be right again. “I’m not sure you’ll be getting any booze,” He said, his French accent lilting his voice. “Instead, you’re stuck with me,” And then there was a flash of pearly whites and a wink.

Flying dolls had one big fault: they knew not how to deliver alcohol.

As Adam kept his scowl in place on his face, one foot tapping against the floor beneath him, arms defensively and angrily across his chest, he found himself desiring nothing but alcohol. A beer was quite soft compared to what he preferred, but at the very least it might make getting through this whole goddamned event a tad bit easier. He was still actually wondering why he’d decided to come –he hadn’t signed himself up, so he shouldn’t have felt any obligation. But he’d been partially curious, partially bored and partially decided he had nothing better to do on Valentine’s Day than go make fun of some sorry arse who’d been pathetic enough to sign herself up for a blind date. Now that he was here, though, all those concepts were tossed out an open window and the idea of hating everything pink and flying dolls and singing hearts had stepped through the door.

Instead, you’re stuck with me,

Grey eyes glancing up at the voice, a small frown overtook the scowl on his face as his gaze fell on a bloke –a very manly, muscular, all male parts in place, not at all female, bloke- that was speaking to him, with his lips in a smile, his pearly white teeth shinning and his eye tossing a playful wink. A man. A dude was his date –and a French one, from the sound of his accent. And all of the sudden Adam had to hold himself still to stop himself from throwing his chair back and storming out of the place to go find whoever the hell had signed him up and stab their eyeballs with his wand. It wasn’t that this guy wasn’t good looking, and it wasn’t that he was unwilling to experiment. It was simply the fact that someone had either assumed he would, or decided to play a prank. Someone would have to die.

“Yay?” Adam hicked an eyebrow up his forehead, his voice dripping with sarcasm, grey eyes cold. “And I suppose I should be dancing around in excitement, because you’re simply so amazing,” He suggested, before giving a resigned sigh and pressing his left foot against the seat of the chair opposite him, pushing it back and letting his eyes move from the bloke’s face, to the chair, full of the implication of Sit the hell down!. “Then again, I guess you’re attractive and all.” He shrugged, yet another resigned sigh pressing past his lips as he sat up in his chair and uncurled his arms. “If I’m going to snog my first bloke, minus well be someone who looks like you.” It would be an experiment, and maybe even a fun one- though a one time event. “Name?” Still, apparently friendliness and social grace were not on the schedule for him this evening.