He did think she was cute, but he wasn't born yesterday, and he was well aware it could have been an act. In fact, the more beautiful the witch, the more wily they tended to be. Harold hadn't managed to avoid jail all these years without knowing a thing or two about lying. He also knew a thing or two about law enforcement officials, and now he could get a better read on Miss Brown, he was coming to the conclusion that she really wasn't a plant. It was something indefinable, his gut instinct most likely, that he could tell that she wasn't.
It made him pull out another cigarette and begin to light it, flicking his fingers at the door to the shop, and shaking his head dismissively. "I'll let you off," he said, bringing the tip of his wand to his cigarette expertly and taking the first lungful of smoke, exhaling through his nose before he spoke again. "But I can help you."
Glancing up and down the street, calculating how many people were walking by, how much they might be able to overhear if he didn't word their conversation subtly enough. "So what d'you need?"