Elisabeth "Batty" St. AmourEighteen Years OldD.O.B. November 1, 1960Ravenclaw Alumni"She never looked nice. She looked like art, and art wasn't supposed to look nice; it was supposed to make you feel something."
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Batty sighed, “I know. I’m not normal.” She said softly, “I know you meant well, but...things weren’t good for me growing up. How I looked was part of it.”
“No thank you,”
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Batty nodded in agreement. “And I can’t even have a smoke.”
“More like the opposite, really.”
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“I was unlucky before I became part of this world, before I found out that this world didn’t want me either.” She said quietly, “It’s fine, no one understands why a girl wouldn’t want to look nice.”
“No thank you,”
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“Was that...were those dementors?”
It’s– it’s– they’re gone now?
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Batty looked at her with disappointment in her eyes. “You don’t know anything about me. I’m not lucky.”
“No thank you,”
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“I can’t blame you there. This place doesn’t exactly scream comforting.”
“Maybe, but then I ought to start feeling comfortable and I’m not.”
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“What were they?” She asked, slowly getting up.
It’s– it’s– they’re gone now?
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“I know, which is why he wants the lines to be true.” She shrugged. “I’m trying my hardest, but I’m never going to get to the point your brother wants me to. Things that are broken will always be broken, no matter how much spell-o-tape you use to piece them back together.”
I’m awesome.
“I don’t think he does, he cares about you too much.” He smiled softly. “I’d rather the truth but whatever you want to share.”
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Batty nodded, wringing her hands together for a moment. “You really don’t need to say that stuff to me, I’m not someone that wants to look nice.” She paused for a moment. “I don’t think tonight was a good idea.”
“No thank you,”
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“What happened?”
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“Maybe it’s just for the people in power; those that have a status. Everyone else are just bodies to fill up the space.”
“I suppose it really is, yes.”
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“Do you want the truth, or the line? I think your brother prefers the latter, even if he won’t admit it.”
I’m awesome.
“How are you?”
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“I’ll have a water, please,” She told the bartender, looking back skeptically at the man, “Alcohol isn’t worth it. It’s not strong enough to make you forget and not weak enough to leave you in the right state of mind.”
“No thank you,”
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“It has been a while, hasn’t it?” She asked, but avoided the question. “How are you?”
“No thank you,”
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“Sounds fair to me.”
“No thank you,”
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“Oh,” Batty said quietly, “I guess I could have one then.”
“No thank you,”
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“That seems like...” She paused for a moment, “A really big waste of time.”
Julian chuckled, but then nodded a little. “That’s really it, yes. They talk, mostly about politics and that shit, and they dance.”
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