"Nah, mate. That's why I have you." Ron grabbed his plate, grinning as he sat down on the other end of the couch from Neville. He put his feet up on the coffee table and didn't waste a moment digging into the food. It smelled bloody brilliant.
At Neville's question, he shrugged. 'Okay' was a pretty broad word for it, but there was too much he couldn't go into, and more still that he didn't want to go into. If he was going to take time to have dinner with Neville, he definitely didn't want to talk about work in more than a general sense. "It's pretty tough around the office right now," he said, opting for the honest middle road. "Not enough people, long hours...but it's all right. Like you said, it's nice to feel useful."
And he did, he thought. If nothing else, he was that: useful.
"What about you? Other than working at St. Mungo's, of course. I hear snake killers get into all sorts of trouble."