Darcy was up in the tree, climbing limb from limb to reach the kit that had become entangled in the tree. It seemed perfectly natural for her to carry on a conversation like this, as awkward as it seemed. She climbed the tree, the girl studied her book, and Darcy called out to her. This actually seemed second nature to her, as she often carried on long conversations with people that remained on the deck of her ship as she climbed the mast. It did not seem out of the ordinary, though it was probably breaking a social code or two. What could you do?
“Wicked,” Darcy responded back, finally getting to the level of her kite. She reached out and hooked a finger on the line, gently pulling it free. It landed with a crash to the ground. “Perfect!” she said cheerfully, hopping down to the ground with a knee-jarring, painful thud. She straightened up, picking up her kite and brushing it off. She plopped a kiss onto the material and looked back at the girl sitting down.
“Izzy. Sixth year,” Darcy echoed. “Yeah, I’ve seen you about the common room, ye’know?” She grinned. “Probably seen me, or heard about the mad as bollocks pirate girl. Darcy. Seventh year.”