evan had gone through a mid-life crisis. with the sheer number of cigarettes he smoked, he’d be surprised if he even made it to forty without looking like regulus had stabbed him in the chest with a quill.

admittedly, such dramatic notions were wholly out of character for the eldest rosier. out of his mates, he was arguably the most rational, though this was a low bar indeed when his peers included the ceaselessly sardonic regulus and the unabashedly unhinged barty, sanity among such company was more an aspiration than a virtue.

but as it was, september first rolled by, heralding his seventh and final year, and with that came the token journey in the express. that also meant facing his friends.

their compartment was a lively tableau, populated by barty, barty’s latest paramour blaire, the ever-enigmatic dorcas, regulus, yourself, and evan.

most of you were in the same state prior to the summer holidays. evan, on the other hand, had seemingly altered his image over the two months that he had been home for, his usually shaggy hair buzzed close to his scalp, the bleach that he usually sported slightly grown out. his honey coloured skin had gained a few dark freckles dusting his cheeks and nose, his hazelnut eyes fixed on barty from underneath dark lashes.

"merlin, rosier, you've gone bald." blaire snorted, as evan tore his gaze from crouch to shoot blaire an unamused look.

"it's called trying something new, darlington." he retorted, running his fingers through the slightly overgrown ends, earrings glittering. regulus shook his head, lashes casting dark shadows on the crests of his knifley cheekbones. “it is a crisis."

“regulus.” evan scowled, reclining marginally as he averted his eyes from barty and blaire, rather focusing his attention on your likeness, arching an eyebrow as if to indicate his demand for reprieve. “you think my hair looks spiffing, i’m sure. i would say you have good taste.” despite the lazy lilt to his words, the comment was still somewhat coy.