TJ Scott tended to remind Lindsay of her little sister at times, though whether the association was a positive one or not remained to be seen. For one thing, Lindsay's sister was eight years old and, when comparing the two, she couldn't be perfectly certain which of the younger girls was actually acting their age. They both seemed to spend a lot of time around boys (not necessarily by choice), seemed to idolize Lindsay in a endearing if non-specific way, and tended to enjoy hearing themselves talk above all else, even when the only thing to say was the sort of strange but entertaining nonsense you came to expect from little children. Sometimes, when at home and dealing with Eliza, Lindsay had to find a way to tell her sister that she was wonderful but that it was really time to shut up now (something she'd learned from her mother when dealing with her father). As entertaining as TJ was, it seemed it was time for the third year to learn that lesson, too. 

Setting her broom against the wall, Lindsay took a few steps toward TJ and, without saying a word, pulled her in for a hug. Once the younger girl's ear was near Lindsay's face, she produced a soft but audible “Shhhhhhhh,” as a bit of non-specific encouragement before pulling away. There was a time and a place for talking about Sioni's relationship woes, and Lindsay was of the opinion that that time and place was anywhere but in the locker room before a match, particularly with Sioni standing right there. Or never, because it wasn't her business. There was no reason to give her fellow beater grief at the moment, particularly now that he was trying so hard to provide them with some kind of plan. Trying. 

What Lindsay liked was what he said next, about having fun. She considered it as she reclaimed her broomstick from against the wall and fell back in line. Sioni had mentioned having fun before, in the past, but it never seemed like a priority. Quidditch matches were seldom fun, even if you pretended they were. Maybe it was possible to really enjoy this, though. They had nothing to lose but the match, which they had every possibility of losing even if they took it seriously, given the weird conditions. In between listening for weird sound effects and trying to remember Welsh (which sounded like weird sound effects already), maybe there was some room to actually have fun while playing a game. She was still convinced they were all going to die out there, but it was hard to take death seriously when she was still giggling like an idiot every time someone said 'Ting-a-ling.' 


we don't realize our faith in the prize unless its been somehow elusive
how swiftly we choose it - the sacred simplicity of you at my side