There she went again with the fumbling speech. Lach couldn't decide if he found it endearing or confusing—both, maybe, because the more she explained the tighter his chest grew. He couldn't put a finger on the emotion, but his gaze softened and his lips slipped into a frown that was more visible in the slight turn of his brows than his lips. "I think you're very interesting. I do want to know," he refuted, but he wasn't sure why. He continued, unable to stop himself, because he decided he'd rather have an annoyingly confident Miss Binns than a self-conscious, uncertain one.

"And I know you don't - I mean, you don't want to be my friend." It was a statement, not a question. She'd already said she wanted to keep their personal lives separate until he'd gone and pressured her into a game of questions. "But I think it would be best if we... were. Maybe not friends, but you'd be silly to think we shouldn't keep in contact until this passes." If they could communicate they could figure out how widespread the rumors were and how to best dispel them.

He dropped his arms and settled back into his former position, resting his hand against his cheek. His gaze went to the teacups as he considered the best way to go about this without oversharing. "I'm sure you know all about the quidditch scandal." She did; it was in the article. "I don't... I don't deal with things like this well on my own. I need to be able to... talk... to someone." He gulped and looked up at her again.

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