The rustling came at least in part from a very strange source: the bent over butt of his best mate, who was in his plaid pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. Anthony was rifling around with increased annoyance through his personal chest, grumbling to himself as he neatly set aside a certain series of odd things. A small cauldron. Two books. A bunch of tied up sock bundles. A stack of written on parchments.
Anthony came up and with a huff sat on his chest, resting his chin on his hand. He pulled his fingers through his curls in his irritation. His glasses had slipped down and were hovering at the edge of his nose when he happened to look up. He saw a vague human shaped blur from Terry's bed. He tried to tilt his head enough to look through them at Terry but in the end had to just push them back up onto his face.
"Oh. Sorry mate. Didn't mean to wake you up." He gave a quick smile.