Tristan sat in the great hall, eating happily away at his meal, well, eating was a loose turn, as he was really just drawing pictures with his food, stacking green beans like Lincoln logs and using ketchup to make a face on the mashed potatoes which he'd flattened on his plate. When he was done with his drawing, he looked up, hearing someone stop into the hall and sit down, moping. He tilted his head slightly, judging from the boy's attire that he'd just come from Quidditch. Now Quidditch was something he admired, the way people could fly on their brooms, balancing with one, or even no hands holding on at such fast speeds.He'd seen the match, yes, but barely knew any of the rules. He didn't even know that he was looking across the table at someone that could be blamed for the loss of the match, all he was looking at was an extremely talented person who'd had the skill to make the team! Seeing the boy stand and stomp off, he cocked and eyebrow and frowned before standing up and following him out of the great hall to see what was wrong with him, and maybe if he could help a little.What he hadn't expected, was for the boy to turn around, tears in his eyes and yell at him. Tristan winced slightly at the sudden outburst but stepped forward none-the-less. The boy wasn't much older than him, maybe he could cheer him up, then they could become friends! He reached out and patted the boy on the shoulder with a grin. "I don't see a loser, I see a hard working, talented individual who was able to make the house's quidditch team at a young age!" He stepped back and took one of the boy's hands in both of his. "Now come on! Enough being sad and mopey! I can barely even fly a broom without falling off, the fact that you made the team at your age is amazing." He stated, pulling the boy back toward the great hall with gusto, wanting to talk some more with him, and maybe get some pointers on flying on a broomstick for himself. "I'm Tristan by the way, it's nice to meet you!" He finished with a grin.
