He slipped both his knife and his wand into his cloak as Foxwood fumbled for his answer, eventually bringing his gaze to rest on the other boy, eyebrow quirked. He knew Foxwood was searching for an answer, and he had a feeling Foxwood knew it too. And yet Agrimony watched him curiously, wondering what his excuse would be. Maybe it was just the fact that last time they'd been together he had found it rather funny to see the Ravenclaw squirm under pressure — weren't they supposed to be intelligent, smart and all that? — and so he did nothing to lift his interrogating expression from Foxwood's pale features.

Even through the thick density of the night he could tell — perhaps not see, but tell — that Foxwood was blushing. A smile quirked at the corner of his lips.

Then immediately dropped. He hadn't been expecting that insipid of an answer. Before he knew what he was doing, he let out a bark of a laugh. "Why don't you find out for yourself?" He challenged, his grin cutting an even wider path across his features. "That's why you came out here, wasn't it?" Before he got an answer, he pivoted and donned his cloak's hood again.

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   Basil Foxwood