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ANDREW
❝ the suit is always so flip flop ❞

strategist ✦ dashing ✦ the grand hall > room 1 > corridor
mentions: clarisse + everyone else at the hall
tags: nina nymphadora. nymphadora.

But we're going in the same direction?

Andrew sighed, watched Casino similarly waved goodbye at her partner. He flipped his letter absently in his hands, along with the knife he still has in his possession. Welp. He glanced at the rest of his members. "Come on guys," he offered a meek smile, before trailing after the girls.

How in the world they knew where exactly their rooms were was confusing, though seeing that the first person to leave was psychic, maybe he'll have to get used to that.

The room number obviously meant little. If anything Wallace seemed like the sabotage type. Andrew had yet to see any semblance of intention, and he's properly convinced the guy came into this without a plan.

His room already had his two bags set to one side and his three boxes of belongingsβ€” Andrew had a lot of possessions though debateable if any were orginally his. Might as well liven up the place while relocating to London. And they might stay in those boxes for the rest of week if Wallace doesn't give them some downtime to spare.

Andrew placed the knife on the table and leaned over, neatly ripping open the letter. Why bring up smoking? He could always retreat outside, it's the polite thing to do and he does it anyway. The warning doesn't stop him from bringing his habit later.

He got dressed, dropped the bowtie and buttoned one up. It's not his style, maybe a muter color, looser slacks, less tailored- in essence, something less sleek. Freaky how they even know his measurements, since the suit fits like a glove.

Satisfied by his mirror image, he goes out with a last spritz of perfume before stopping by next door, the number his partner got. Andrew heard footsteps and rapped his knuckles on the wooden surface. "Nina?"

The door opened.

"Walk you to the ballroom?"

bonus; dane dehaan in a suit


black space
 
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