Her nose twitched slightly and her lips twisted into an ill-concealed smirk as a result of her honest effort to halt the wide, ear-to-ear grin she felt like doing instead, since it made her look twelve, and that was the antithesis of the sophisticated (stunning beauty and quick witted charm) witch she cultivated herself as. Which Ludo Bagman evidently didn't find off-putting (stunning beau—this phrase was going to be repeated quite a lot), given this rather marvelous flirtation.
"A celebratory round," she said slowly, as though honestly contemplating her answer to the proposition. "Well, I don't see why not… if it's just one drink." Greta tapped the parchment rolling itself up tightly, as she made to place it in her bag. "After all, I do have the thrilling tale of your rise to power and fame to edit, and who knows what I may write in the throes of insobriety?"
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