She took his arm and he smiled, enjoying the warmth and tenderness of her touch, no matter how small. For a moment, they strolled in silence, but Milo didn't mind. Soon enough, bad music, drunken yells, and the shouts of the two of them would be adding to a roaring headache he would have to fight in the morning. He knew this because challenge two was to sing like a sailor- he had picked a bar with a karaoke machine. Obviously. Why get drunk somewhere without karaoke? So, for now, the silence was golden.
When she spoke, she used the p-word, causing him to cringe. "You might be trying to prove you have a sailor mouth, but calling me the p-word is simply much too crude!" he said, pleading for mercy. How he hated a title that held any authority in it, for authority meant responsibility. And how he hated to be reminded that he was supposed to be responsible.
Key words: Supposed to be.
She continued on and he responded, "Brats, aren't they?! Hard to believe we were once like them. Alright, I lied, I'm pretty much at their mentality, but I now have the freedom to be that obnoxious. They have no right." He smirked, smiling a her.
They reached the gates and took a step outside of them. He looked to her. "I hope you don't mind a muggle bar. I find it's more fun when you're not looking around to see who's good opinion of you that you are sullying."