George froze for a split second before recognizing the voice underneath the impression. Turning to look over his shoulder without getting up from the floor, he smirked at the witch standing nearby. At least it was one of his friends who'd heard him; they were used to his foul mouth. "Isn't that a bit like the cookpot calling the cauldron black, Miss Spinnet?" Years on the pitch with her had proven that Alicia could certainly keep up with the blokes where 'language' was concerned.
He stood up, brushing himself off, and stepped forward to give her a quick hug. "What brings you by here today?"