Eugene waved off any worries about his clothes easily enough. That was the least of his concerns. Forgotten already. Smiling easily, he nodded and made a return trip to the bar. Judging by the color in which his clothes had previously been stained, he assumed she'd been having punch. Eugene had his scotch refilled before turning tail back to where he'd left Miss MacFusty.

Taking an open seat, he passed her drink along before making himself comfortable. "And how is your brother doing?" During his admittedly amateur quidditch career, Eugene had played chaser and only at school, but the carnage of the World Cup was not soon to be forgotten. He couldn't imagine what Lachlan was going through.