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Raising her eyebrow wryly, she elected not to comment. Greta did, after all, know him to some degree. For Hera's sake, who didn't recall the Miranda-Ludo-Grease debacle? The thought of her friend and what she might have to say if she saw what Greta was doing at this moment in time gave her pause. What was she doing?

And what had she been doing? Beyond getting tangled up in rebellions and angering some Death Eaters and having, quite frankly, the most shit love-life a moderately attractive girl of prime reproductive years could have? "Nothing."

And she hadn't been. Her career hadn't truly made significant advances, she'd only briefly thought about the book, she hardly saw her family, the only friends she'd really kept in touch with had just moved out—there might be a lot going for her on paper, but her life suddenly seemed fraught with inaction.

"I would ask you the same, it's just…well, you are newsworthy and I do write the news." But mostly, she had the sudden realization she didn't want to talk anymore. She didn't want to be passive and full of inaction. Yes, indeed, her action was sitting right across from her. He was subtle, but Greta had seen the flare of interest in Ludo's expression at the appearance of the waitress. Where other girls might have been annoyed or angered, she felt emboldened. A wizard like he had expectations, and experiences to go along with him, no? Well, what was wrong with her, that she shouldn't be the one to fill them?

So she leaned forward just enough, knowing her hair slid into an enticing curtain over one shoulder, and brought her foot til it ever so slightly nudged his, and crept upwards. "But somehow," the look she slanted him was Trouble, her voice pitched just a bit lower, "I don't think you asked me along just to learn how I've been occupying my time."