Ford had already been grinning, but when he saw that the jab was well-received he transitioned to light laughter. "You did say you wanted to be scared," he pointed out. He tucked his hands about halfway into his pockets and moved to lean against the door frame, which put slightly more distance between him and Lestrange, but not much.

"You jumped," he pointed out. It was needless to say it, but he was moderately proud of himself for the fact, so verbalized it anyway. Being able to startle Lestrange made him feel sort of... well, it was hard to say exactly. He felt like he was used to letting other people take the lead in social situations, and always second guessing himself. It had been that way ever since he could remember — even his sisters could bully him, if they really tried and Noble wasn't around to force him to stand up for himself. Having done something spontaneous with no suggestion from anyone else, and having it come off well, made him feel like the tables had turned, just for a moment. It seemed as though he could be the one who was surrounded by friends, and fun at parties, and play Quidditch (except obviously he could not actually play Quidditch, but it was more about the feeling of the thing than the actual athletic ability) — and, maybe, who knew — maybe he could be the one making confident yet cryptic comments in dark theaters and someone else could decode them later and feel embarrassed and abashed about it.

He fleetingly wished he had something in his hand, like... a cigarette, maybe, or a glass of scotch. He did not, historically, enjoy either of those things, but it just seemed like the sort of accessory to complement this sudden mood. He realized that he was being ridiculous, though: he kept his hands in his pockets, and pushed his smile down from manic to something more muted. "Was it the dresser that made that noise?"