Ford smiled at the reassurance, though it was a more muted smile than the ones that had featured earlier in the conversion. He still felt bad for having brought it up, but Lestrange didn't seem overly affected... presumably if the thought of Quidditch matches made him frequently contemplate his impending demise, he would have already found another occupation.

The word horse tugged the corner of his mouth up a bit farther. He wondered what sport the Muggles thought they were talking about. Ford didn't know of any off the top of his head that involved both horses and team captains. He was far from an expert on any kind of sport, Muggle or otherwise, but he had taken Muggle Studies in school. Maybe... polo? Was that a team sport with horses?

"Well, let's hope your horseback skills hold up," he teased, quite amused by the mental image of a bunch of men trying to play Quidditch on horseback. "You're lucky to have had so much practice."

He was briefly reminded of his tension-laden conversation with Dorian Fisk about Quidditch practice, but pushed it back out of mind. There had been all sorts of tension during the Sonata, and Ford didn't particularly want to recreate it now that he'd finally put it out of mind.