Theodore slid a hand through his boyishly mussed hair as he struggled to appropriately word what he desired to say. Finally, he fumbled with the dry starter of, "Hi." He slid over to your side of the busied Slytherin Dining Table, his eyes swimming with bashfulness. With no warning whatsoever, no thought of potential conversation in between, he blurted out unnaturally, "The Fall Ball is coming. You should-- erm, will you go?" He paused, before hastily adding, "With me."