He makes a face that would translate to a snort on a less restrained face. "I'd prefer to dispense with the entire business by relocating to a less public area. Or at least one less crowded," he amends, eyeing all the passersby. It's not exactly a deserted pub. "There are areas of park, beach, and woods that I'm almost entirely certain haven't been seeded with any of the standard Ministry eyes." His mouth compresses as he thinks, and does not care for some of what he's thinking. "At another time I'd invite you in, but that's problematic at the moment*."
This younger face, with some of the forces lashing it to depression and strict discipline missing, is less frozen than it was the last time they saw each other, and actually sneaks a good quarter of a smile past him. "Then, only say where you prefer to go, and if you'll tell me what you already know--er, that's relevant," he adds hastily, having gotten the I-have-forgotten-more-than-you-will-ever-know-if-you-die-as-young-as-you-seem-to-be-trying-to lecture more than once, "I'll fill in some of the rest."
* The place where he's living is currently infested by a Ginnymort ghost and a James Potter ghost, and he's avoiding it like the plague.