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Decisively spurned by the luscious Lola, Dracomir simply pretended he had never initiated a conversation, like an agile white cat who has failed to make a jump, and licks its lips, pretending nothing has happened.
(Tom had received a modicum of Classical education at his Kensington day school, and Dracomir rather more at Hogwarts. In any case, he was familiar with the application of the Virgilian simile.)
"We're wasting our time, wasting our presence here, momentarily disobeying Alli, and procrastinating. No wonder we're all in Mordor." Maika stated. Dracomir was annoyed. Disdainful lines like that belonged, as of right, to him, and besides, he wasn't in Mordor, officially, and anyway Mordor was a state of mind, as the most cursory reading of Doctor Faustus showed. But before he could so much as start mouthing, Maika shut him up again with yet another curt utterance, tacitly backed by Lola. Really, this was too much.
Finally getting the opportunity to riposte, he unusually concluded that actions speak louder than words. Skittles had hared off again and for some bizarre reason, she was the only one currently being remotely amenable towards him, so, having enough of the current boorish company, as he convinced himself, he non-verbally established her location with the Four-Point Charm and apparated after her, arriving beside her with a loud crack.
"Couldn't be bothered to wait for that lot," he explained, affecting once more his faux-proletarian tones in order to sound hard. "C'mon-let's go and find Roggie."
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