An appetite was a good sign. Perhaps Malou could be convinced to make some biscuits for her to drop off for him, or a pie. Basic stuff, really. Fallon was going to have to ask tonight.

Aside from her recent misadventure (and even those injuries were more mental than anything else), Fallon wasn't the sort to regularly attract danger. She was adequate enough at her job to avoid the worse injuries and had been wise enough in school to avoid playing quidditch. The worst she'd ever suffered was a broken femur, but that was more of a stupid move on her part than anything else.

"Seems like you're the one who should be nicknamed trouble," she teased lightly. Fallon hadn't ever considered his department to be that dangerous, but she was quite obviously mistaken. "I'm more mischief than anything else." Reaching into his basket of snacks, Fallon took a small handful of grapes and popped one into her mouth. She'd replace them all tomorrow if his mother didn't beat her to it.