there's no reason to be shy [PIPPA]

[Pippa Tremlett]

Pippa let out a loud, sarcastic laugh. She shook her head and snatched the bottle from Francis just because she could. She didn't drink anything straight away, just held it. "Oh, yes, so marvelous and sexy," she replied, rolling her eyes. "All we do is sit in the common room, crooning over how you're all just too sexy for your own good and crying because we'll never be able to have any of you." Her voice was impassioned as she spoke, but there was an underlying tone of sarcasm. She tilted back the bottle and took a long sip, as if pretending to drink her sorrows.

She made a face when she took the bottle away from her lips. Too much, too fast. Dizzy. Pippa closed her eyes briefly, trying to regain her self-control. She had to stop or she might pass out with one more sip. She looked pointedly at Francis. "Your awe-inspiring balls... are they balls of steel?" she asked before giggling. Pippa glanced down at her chest. "If your balls are awe-inspiring, my boobs are the most awe-inspiring boobs of all boobs!" she declared loudly and proudly. She rolled her eyes again. "Psh. You're weirder than I am, so."

Pippa laughed again, snorting a little. "To the bed, capt'n!" she agreed loudly, raising the bottle of firewhisky in the air as if saluting Francis' decision. Oh, she really needed to stop drinking this stuff. She pushed herself up from the floor, wobbling, and then turned and climbed back onto the unmade bed, which was actually more comfortable that she'd thought at first. "I'll hide under the bed, okay, if anyone walks in?" Pippa looked at Francis, thinking that her decision made complete sense.

[Francis Lehane]

"See? Knew it!" Francis made a dive for the bottle, clutching it with both hands and attempting to tug it away from Pippa's grasp. The attempts, however, were fruitless, and he surrended the bottle to her quite sulkily. "And yeah. Gryffindor is the hottest house, everybody knows that. Slytherins try, of course, but you're not so - like - ravishing...because you've all got scales," he finished dramatically, grinning in spite of himself. "Monster-like. Get me?"

Francis sniggered, deciding to push any awkward feelings he was having away and let the firewhiskey take over. At least it'd make him braver - always a huge plus. "Balls of steel for definite. Awe-inspiring balls of steel. The greatest anyone has ever seen!" He snatched the bottle from her and raised it in a salute to himself before taking a gulp. He wrinkled up his nose. "I've seen better," he replied dismissively in relation to her supposed awe-inspiring boobs.

The effects of the firewhiskey were definetely showing on Pippa - she'd gone from sweet and ever so slightly reserved to...well. The opposite of reserved. Which wasn't, of course, a bad thing. In fact, he was appreciating it greatly, because it made the whole thing feel much more fun instead of awkward and forced, as it would be if they were deciding things like this without being even the slightest bit tipsy. He collapsed onto the bed beside her, yanking at the curtains until they were perfectly obscured from the outside world. "Sounds like a plan, Tremlett. They'll never know," Francis said, keeping a perfectly solemn expression on his face.

[Pippa Tremlett]

Pippa let out an undignified snort, unable to hold it back any longer. Her head dropped to her chest as her laughter continued. She looked up with a grin. "Right, the ravishing Gryffindors that we just want to ravish," she said before she dissolved into laughter again. "Scales? Well, I'd rather have dry skin than an afro, anyway." Pippa folded her arms over her chest, humphing. That wasn't true, though; she thought afros were pretty awesome and that lions' manes were just as awesome.

"How many people have seen your awe-inspiring balls of steel, Francis?" Pippa questioned seriously. She was glad that she was able to talk about this with him. Her sober self might have handled the conversation, but wouldn't have been able to stop blushing. However, tipsy Pippa was much braver, more daring. She narrowed her eyes. "Hey, you haven't even had a proper look! You probably like fake boobs in those dirty magazines you've got hidden 'round here somewhere." She glanced about as if one would appear from thin air. "Mine are all natural, baby."

Pippa nodded in agreement and pushed the bottle back to his end of the bed. She didn't need anymore. No, no, no. "Hey! I could be the big, scaly monster under your bed!" She laughed, as if this were the funniest thing in the world. She turned somber quickly, though. "Okay, are you going to deal those cards or what, Lehane?"

---

((OOC: Hahah, your personal text... xD ))

[Francis Lehane]

As Pippa started to laugh, Francis took his chance and seized the bottle from her, dragging it from her grasp and dropping it onto his pillow, settling in front of it defensively lest she should try and have a go at getting it back. Anyways...if she drank anymore, she'd probably end up getting completely wasted, and then he'd feel as though he was taking advantage of her, or something. Best to keep it on the safe side, he thought ruefully, while he was still mostly sober. "My afro's amazing," he argued, dipping his head and pointing at his hair, as if she needed a better view of it. "Look! Much better than your skin."

Francis put his finger to his lips. "Can't say. It's a secret." He announced. And then, loftily: "But loads. Abolsutely loads." That was a complete lie; the furthest he'd ever gone with a girl was snogging, and it hadn't been a very quality snog - he'd felt as though his face had been slobbered on the entire time and when he'd resurfaced, gasping for breath, he'd been quite relieved, thank you very much. He often wondered if that made him weird. "Well, I hardly expected you to have fake boobs," Francis added, rather snarkily, as he began dealing out the cards briskly.

--

[ooc: it seemed appropriate, aha. ]

[Pippa Tremlett]

Pippa willingly let Francis take the bottle from her hands; she had already drank more than she'd wanted to. She didn't need anymore. Damn Francis and his taunting her. Pippa looked seriously at his hair for a minute before reaching out and ruffling it. "Its' soft and fluffy," she said with a grin.

"Mmm, for some reason, I get the sense that you're lying," she told him haughtily. He didn't seem like the kind of guy that went around dropping his trousers. Pippa narrowed her eyes and looked down at her boobs. She raised her head, though she was pouting for reasons unknown. "You say that like it's a bad thing," Pippa said, a little hurt. She took the cards, but didn't pick them up. "What kind of poker are we playing? Besides strip...."

[Francis Lehane]

"Yeah, it's pretty...soft and fluffy," he snorted in agreement. Obviously, with hair like his, he often had people ruffling it and teasing him about it, and while it'd irritated him and sometimes made him self-conscious when he was younger, nowadays it had sort of become a part of his personality and it was almost as though he was proud of it. "Amazing condition and all that. Great shampoo."

Francis widened his eyes in faux indignation. "Cheek! Doubting me of all people, when I've shown you my room and let you onto my bed. I suggest you apologise, missy." He frowned at her, realising he may have caused some offence, and doubled back quickly. "No, no, no! Your natural boobs are...fine. Great. Magnificent," he insisted, reaching over to clap her encouragingly on the shoulder. "I dunno. What type d'you want to play?"

[Pippa Tremlett]

"Little lion man," Pippa cooed, and then grinned. She had never had spectacular hair herself, though it was always soft and thick and she could pretty much do anything she wanted with it. Her mouth formed an 'O', feigning interest and a little bit of shock. "Good to know! I'll have to borrow some." She wouldn't really, though.

Pippa laughed and put her hands up, surrendering. "Okay, okay," she spit out in between laughs. She gave Francis her best apologetic look. "I'm sorry. Your actions tonight prove that I'm wrong and you're right." She nodded. A second later, Pippa broke out in a fit of laughter again.

"Why, thank you, kind sir," she said, grinning. Her boobs were pretty magnificent. Her laughing ceased and she frowned. Pippa had no idea what type of poker to play. She wanted to say 'the simplest', but she doubted that she'd even be able to fake being good at that. So she shrugged. "Doesn't matter to me! You pick. It's your bed, after all." She poked out her tongue.





((OOC: so, if you want, we could do a fade to black for the poker game? Lol. It's up to you!))

[Francis Lehane]

ooc. - eep, yes please! i cannot write about poker, i'm sorry to say. we can pick up after the game is halfway through/over, though? i faded to black in this post, hope that's okay! and sorry i took so long to get to this thread. francis!muse was not being kind to me but it's getting better. (:

--------------------------

"Little Lion Man?" Francis repeated, visibly cringing. "No. No. That is not an okay nickname. I blatantly refuse to be stuck with that nickname! Little Lion Man. Of all fucking names. Little Lion Man." Perhaps he was talking too much - hang on, he always talked too much! - but perhaps it was the firewhiskey talking. Or maybe it was the fact that there was a girl on his bed...He'd never had a girl on his bed before.

"I'm always right," he reminded her gently. "'S okay, though. Sometimes you're almost right...and you're right if you agree with me," he added as an afterthought, because it was completely and utterly true in every single respect. "Alright, then..." he said slowly, contemplating Pippa for a moment. They were on his bed. There was firewhiskey. They were playing strip poker. Clothes would most definetely be lost. He was feeling a bit hot around the collar, to put it quite mildly. Because Pippa was pretty, even though he'd really never considered her in that way before. But she was, wasn't she? Deciding that yes, she was pretty, and no, nothing bad could come of this game of cards, he began dealing out the cards as expertly as possible...

FADE TO BLACK

[Pippa Tremlett]

((ooc: haha, neither can i, so it's all good! and it's okay about your muse - i totally get it! and i'll pick up towards the end of the game and then we can... do whatever. xP i hope this post is okay!))

---

Pippa sat awkwardly on Francis' bed, flicking her bright blue eyes between her cards and Francis. She wasn't sure who was losing, but she was guessing herself. As it turned out, she could barely manage to fake even being bad at poker. She was dreadful. She had the clothes - or rather, pile of clothes - to prove it. All she was left in was her bra and panties. Talk about embarrassing, but she reasoned in her mind that it wasn't any different than wearing a bikini.

Except that it wasn't. And she was in front of a boy. On his bed.

Doing her best not to blush, Pippa raised her gaze again to look at Francis. She dropped her cards to the bed, not even caring anymore. "Okay," she said sheepishly, "this is so not fair. I know I've lost and... if you want me to take off my bra, I may need to drink the rest of the firewhisky." She nodded her head at the bottle that had been left untouched since they started their game. She wasn't embarrassed by her boobs - they were small and perky. But she was embarrassed to show them to a boy. Especially Francis.

[Francis Lehane]

Francis was feeling, to put it delicately, somewhat flustered by the amount of skin on show. He'd never thought of Pippa in that way, but when half of your clothes were lost in a tipsy game of strip poker on your bed, lines sort of blurred and everything became hazy. He was having a hard time not completely gawking at her, although every time his eyes raked over her body he quickly dragged his gaze to her face or to his cards - mostly to his cards, as whenever they locked eyes he felt himself blushing. And he rarely, if ever, blushed. He had sworn off it once he had turned thirteen and he thought he'd never look back, but there he was, blushing to his heart's content and feeling most peculiar. Like some sort of creepy out-of-body experience, because things like this didn't happen to boys like him.

"Well," Francis cleared his throat - was there any way possible of answering her question without sounding sleazy? - before ploughing on determinedly, "Well. You don't have to. If you don't want to. Take your bra off, I mean. Not," he added immediately, eyes widening as he realised how that may sound, "Not that I don't want to see your boobs, or anything - I mean, not that I do, either - but it's not as though I would say no - hang on, that's wrong...I mean, it's not as though I'm saying there's anything wrong with your boobs?" He phrased it like a question, bending his head to study his cards. He was left with slightly more clothes than her - he'd lost his school blazer, shirt and tie but his trousers were still on - and he had a few more shreds of dignity intact as he studied his cards with concentrated fervour.

Mutely, he pushed the firewhiskey towards her - no matter what she decided to do, he was in the mindset that she needed it more than he did.

____________________

ooc. - sorry i took so long to make this shitty reply! :/

[Pippa Tremlett]

The tension in the air was undeniable. It was thick and heavy and awkward. Pippa wished nothing more than to just disappear. She liked Francis, as a friend, but she wasn't this comfortable with him. She hated looking at herself in the mirror - why would she want to show it to a guy? He'd never looked at her the same again. Pippa kept her gaze on her cards, cursing them mentally. She didn't dare raise her gaze, though she was brutally aware when Francis looked at her. She only looked up when he started stammering over his words.

Heat rose in her cheeks. She knew what Francis was trying to say, but she really just wanted him to shut up. She just wanted to go back to playing the card game - or have someone burst into the room. Even Nicola. She'd rather deal with the insults from her sister than take off her bra. Francis' words made Pippa think, though. They were playing strip poker. The rules were that, if she lost a hand, she had to remove an article of clothing. That was fair and square. She was a team-player, wasn't she? And she didn't want the boy to spread rumors about her - like she was a prude.

Pippa grabbed the bottle of firewhisky and guzzled most of what was left (which wasn't a lot.) It no longer burned her throat as she swallowed, which made her think that she'd had too much and her judgement was impaired. It probably was. Closing her eyes tightly, Pippa felt like everything were swimming. She took several deep breaths and it seemed to help, but she just wanted the night to be over with. Silently, she reached behind her back and fiddled with the clasps to her bra. After a moment, she let out and let out an irritated sigh. She had hoped that the bra would unclasp nicely and fall from her shoulders and they could continue their game. But, alas, no such luck.

"I can't get the clasp undone," Pippa said, opening her eyes. She looked at Francis pitifully before turning around so her backside was facing him. "You have to do it." She collected her thick hair to one shoulder and held onto it with one hand, while the other one nervously twirled the ends.

---

((ooc: it's fine! your reply was excellent! =D and i love francis' new siggy!))

[Francis Lehane]

Francis felt a bizarre urge to laugh; strip poker was supposed to be fun, wasn't it? And yet they both looked positively distressed. If anyone barged in they'd probably be completely puzzled firstly by their lack of clothes but secondly by the fact that they weren't shagging, or anything - they were a pretty safe distance apart, barely even making eye-contact, and he was still blushing. Christ. He had to get some more action, fast, otherwise if ever the opportune moment came and he ended up nearly in a girl's knickers he'd be reduced to looking like a tomato once again and completely and utterly ruining the moment.

He watched her gulp down the last of the firewhiskey - when she did that, he couldn't help but make a small, admiring noise and mutter, "Jeez, take it easy, Tremlett," - and then reach around to fiddle with her bra strap, still unsure where exactly to place his gaze. He wanted to look at her - but not because she was Pippa, because she was a girl, and that felt quite sleazy. Francis could be a bit of a prat but he liked to think he wasn't sleazy.

"Argh!" the sound escaped him before he could clamp it down. Regaining himself, he told her firmly, "No. I couldn't. I've never...never...like. Undone the clasp of a bra before. 'S not as though I'm hoping into bed with girl after girl after girl, and I don't wear one, so - oh, fine," he mumbled, as his voice had been getting less distinct and quieter throughout his jumbled-up refusal. He pulled himself closer to Pippa, squinting at the bra clasp with the air of a man preparing himself for a fight. His eyes trailed over her bare skin, her neck, her hair, and he reached out to fumble with the clasp, unable to get it undone on the first try but steeling himself for the second. Determined, he unclasped it briskly, watched it come undone. He bit his lip, heart thudding, body rushing with adrenaline.

[Pippa Tremlett]

Pippa was sitting there nervously - anxiously - for Francis to unclasp her bra. She twisted her torso just slightly to look at him as he freaked out about unclasping her bra. Her eyes narrowed and she was about to bark at him (mostly because she was already embarrassed sitting there on his bed half-naked) when he finally gave in and scooted closer towards her. Holding her breath, Pippa tried to relax her body. She shivered when she felt Francis' hands touch the bare, pale skin on her back. She closed her eyes and ushered a quick 'hurry!' when she felt Francis fumbling around with her bra. When it came undone, however, she wished it hadn't.

The Slytherin sat there for a second, remaining very quiet and very still. The bra still hung from her shoulders, but she knew that she'd have to take it off. Taking a deep breath, Pippa reached up slowly to take off the straps from her shoulders. She pulled the thin material away from her body and discarded it haphazardly on the floor. Swallowing, she turned around slowly. Her hair, which suddenly wasn't long enough for her liking, fell over her shoulders, hiding just the top bit of her breasts. The whole of them, however, was mostly exposed. Pippa was blushing deeply from embarrassment. She was embarrassed and cold, and she wanted the night to be over.

"Um... thanks," she muttered, glancing up at Francis. She snatched up her card in a robotic motion. Then she sat there, frozen. Her gaze reached Francis' face again, though she hadn't a clue why she was looking at him. Because what she really wanted to do was hide under his bed.

[Francis Lehane]

There is a topless girl on your bed, Francis told himself. He firmly believed that if things got too much, thinking them through in his mind before he blurted out anything truly embarassing would always be the best way to go, but that thought was simultaneously the most exciting and most bizarre he'd ever had. When you got a girl topless, it was generally supposed to be a girl you fancied, which wasn't exactly the case. He was very much aware of the lack of clothing between them and the skin on show, however - he didn't see how he could not be, honestly.

He noticed, suddenly, just how upset Pippa looked, and frowned. She was blushing to the roots of her hair and looked thoroughly miserable. While Francis wasn't a boy very much attuned to other people's feelings, he did have a rush of sympathy towards Pippa, saying, "Hey, you alright? Look - hey, I won't tell anybody about this," he told her, as the thought suddenly occurred to him, that she might be upset thinking that he may brag to other people about it. "I mean - not if you don't want me to. Might be a bit embarassing for you, anyways, playing strip poker with a berk like me, so I'll spare you that," he found himself grinning, the bizarre urge to laugh returning, overthrowing all of his other emotions. "You're like...really hot, by the way," he added, forcing his eyes not to stray further down her body. "In a platonic way, of course," he added, brow furrowing, wondering why he'd voiced that particular thought. He'd never noticed how pretty Pippa was - or, rather, he always knew she was pretty, but he was rather surprised that she was hot. Girls were like that, he thought crossly. They snuck up on you and put you in the worst positions when you least expected it.

"But hot," he clarified, still frowning. "Hot, in a platonic way. I dunno, actually...Jesus, Tremlett! Remind me to never play strip poker with you again. You mess with my brain." He shook his head at the girl, but allowed himself to twitch his lips into a smile to show that he wasn't being completely serious. "No, but...yeah, you're quite beautiful. For the record. Now that I've made a complete berk of myself, may as well just...go the full way and say that."

[Pippa Tremlett]

The longer Francis stared at her, the less embarrassed Pippa got. She should have been more embarrassed, she should have been less comfortable... but she kind of forgot what she was topless. It wasn't like Francis was staring at her boobs, anyway. He was looking her directly in the face, for the most part. Which made her feel better. If it were Fritz sitting across from her, Pippa was sure that he would have tried to feel her up by now. Slowly, the girl nodded.

"No, I'm okay," she promised, though it wasn't all that true. But Pippa smiled so Francis might believe her. She didn't think that he was the type of girl to tell people about this, but maybe she was wrong. Besides, sitting topless on a bed... she knew she wasn't a slut. She could just ignore the rumors. But if the rumors got to Nicola... Pippa swallowed. Her eyes widened and she shook her head. "You're not a berk, Francis! Anyone who thinks that, can go... can go fuck themselves." Her words were spoken firmly. She hated it when people put themselves down.

Pippa could feel herself blushing again (though not as much as before); no one had ever called her hot before. No one ever bothered to even look at her like that. So she stayed quiet because she didn't know what to say in response to that. How did other girls respond? Pippa wasn't sure. Hot in a platonic way. Could a guy really mean that? She didn't think so, but she didn't comment. Instead, Pippa stared at Francis. "You think I'm beautiful?" she asked, somewhat taken aback. She forced out a laugh. "Well... thanks." She paused, and looked him over, forgetting all about being nearly naked on his bed. "You know... you're not too bad yourself. You're more attractive than you give yourself credit. You're nice to look at," she added lamely.