Ford had been expecting some reaction, now that he had a slightly clearer idea of the subtext of the conversation, but he hadn't been expecting that. A furtive look, maybe, or a slight flush of the cheek, or maybe, maybe half a smile and a hint of mischief in his eye. Not — an open invitation. He had no idea how to respond to that, and for a moment he just stared at Fisk.

Maybe he was really only talking about Quidditch. (Ford did not believe that).

"That's — good to know," he said, after much too long of a pause.