"No, not quite. You need take no steps," he assures him, intentionally more than just a shade too fast, and winks.
"Hic est pluralis majestatis," he murmurs, ostensibly to Minerva but with a mildly wicked eye-flick to Lucius that pretends not to notice the wheels turning. Only about a quarter of his purpose in flailing had been to relieve his feelings, although her amusement had also only been a third of the remainder.
He adds with slight indignation (as he quite enjoys cooking, albeit not necessarily in any conventional way), "The only stone-like objects in the pantry are firmly embedded in the peaches. However, I hadn't intended to leave you without an option in the matter of company; I had noted that the pub is unaffected, and there are one are two smaller restaurants that appear to have been located beyond the effect." And one of them, conveniently, assumes that you want your food to come with chopsticks rather than sharp pointy metal objects.