Surely their arrangement at the moment was outside the realm of propriety, but he wasn't very inclined to care after a long day that culminated into yet another night of arrests. Besides, Miss Lynch seemed like she didn't care, and he was very prone to mirroring the moods and actions of those around him.
"Midnight snacks, hm?" he asked, picking up one of the scones and examining it. Anything was better than nothing, which is precisely what he'd had to eat since on his break approximately five hours ago. He took a bite to test it and—"Delicious," he said with a nod of approval. "I believe Mrs. Harding was also the one who made the cookies last week?" He'd definitely have to be writing her a thank you note one of these days.
Her comment on the situation prompted him to glance back towards the scene, where some of the on-call officials were beginning to leave. He was glad that Bartonburg hadn't yet been taken over by the fog; that would have made tonight's call a rather difficult thing to handle.
"Illegal enchantments," he offered as his only explanation. He doubted that offered much context, but he was sure that was the extent of the information he could give. It was better, he decided, to change the topic—not that the events of tonight would be easily forgotten with the commotion still going on around them.
"The fog's come to Hogsmeade." It was a statement, rather than a question. "Do you have plans to leave? Or do you intend to stay here, or...?" Though he knew it was unlikely—most folks of their status didn't have the privilege of having multiple houses they could flee to in times of trouble—part of him hoped she had some uncle or aunt she and her family could reside with until the mystery of the fog was solved.
"Midnight snacks, hm?" he asked, picking up one of the scones and examining it. Anything was better than nothing, which is precisely what he'd had to eat since on his break approximately five hours ago. He took a bite to test it and—"Delicious," he said with a nod of approval. "I believe Mrs. Harding was also the one who made the cookies last week?" He'd definitely have to be writing her a thank you note one of these days.
Her comment on the situation prompted him to glance back towards the scene, where some of the on-call officials were beginning to leave. He was glad that Bartonburg hadn't yet been taken over by the fog; that would have made tonight's call a rather difficult thing to handle.
"Illegal enchantments," he offered as his only explanation. He doubted that offered much context, but he was sure that was the extent of the information he could give. It was better, he decided, to change the topic—not that the events of tonight would be easily forgotten with the commotion still going on around them.
"The fog's come to Hogsmeade." It was a statement, rather than a question. "Do you have plans to leave? Or do you intend to stay here, or...?" Though he knew it was unlikely—most folks of their status didn't have the privilege of having multiple houses they could flee to in times of trouble—part of him hoped she had some uncle or aunt she and her family could reside with until the mystery of the fog was solved.
— set by MJ! —