Jordyn was mid-sip when she noticed Lydie’s posture change impossibly quickly.  She sat upright, her eyes went wide… she jumped to the worst possible conclusion and lurched forward, the disgusting alcohol dripping down her chin.  “Oh!” she cursed rather loudly and held out her wet hands and the flask out, waiting to hear the headmistress’ shrill voice demanding that they serve detention for the rest of the year.

The only thing that happened was Lydie started howling with laughter, rather like a hyena.  Jordyn’s eyes narrowed at her and she brought her free hand up to her mouth and chin to wipe away some of the liquid.  As Lydie took the flask back, Jordyn scowled.  “That wasn’t funny,” she scolded and stood up straight. 

She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and worked it a little until it felt a bit raw.  She hadn’t really had a lot to eat at supper and her head was swimming a little bit.  The shock and adrenaline of potentially getting caught driving on the swimming sort of feeling.  “I mean… we should do the job,” Jordyn looked around, “It can’t take… that long…” she did not sound convinced. 

Lydie was still reeling from her superb practical joke, laughing at Jordyn who, in her panic, had completely spazzed out and spit up on herself. It was strangely satisfying, but not in the way that confronting Jordyn in the Great Hall had been - it was more of a silly feeling, almost like … fun? But people didn’t have fun with Jordyn Dimbleby. That just wasn’t her scene. And certainly Lydie couldn’t have a good time with her. Especially not in detention, for Merlin’s sake.

“Oh, live a little,” Lydie said with a wave in response to Jordyn’s lack of ability to laugh at herself. She put her lips up to the flask again and slowly sipped a bit. Immediately she responded with a wince; it was definitely better to drink this and get it down fast.

“It can’t take… that long…”

After a long, exaggerated look around the room Lydie looked back at Jordyn and raised her eyebrows as if to say, ‘Really?’  Cleaning the already perfectly tidy room was a waste of time, and Lydie knew that for a fact. It was kept that way by a constant stream of troublemaking students.

“Suit yourself,” Lydie said in a way that she hoped was persuasive.  The curio next to her was open still, and so Lydie plucked a yearbook from the inside of the case before  leaning back onto the thick glass of the trophy cabinet she was sitting in front of. She stretched out her legs and crossed them at the ankles. She took another sip (faster this time) before returning to her casual comfort. Reverse psychology, wasn’t it? She pointedly opened the yearbook and began flipping through the pages, smirking at some of the really, truly miserable haircuts and fashion choices.