[Half of her wants to lean back, but the other half is a bit more stubborn and has her stay her ground and her bright brown eyes meet his. There's something there, what, she isn't sure; but something that she'll later identify as slightly unnerved settles low and turning in her stomach. It's strange, to see such a different expression on a face she recognises as someone else's, one that certainly wears a warmer smile than this one.

Ginny purses her lips musingly, her own expression belying none of her thoughts, then shrugs one shoulder.]

Well, yeah. Wet-start fireworks are funnier than anything else but I don't throw them into people's showers.

[She pauses, then smirks slightly, gaze turning skyward.]

Cannibal ducks sounds a load more sinister. But here I am, still talking to you. Properly, even, and not through a screen.