Laughing lowly at Fleur's insistence of gatstro-intestinal fortitude and knowledge of alcohol limitations, Charlie made ready to make the turn. Warning bells went off in his head, though, and, like a Firebolt, it hit him: they were in a Muggle bar. "Shite," he breathed aloud, thanking every deity and saint he knew of that he hadn't actually apparated right then and there. Bugger, what was wrong with him?
He shook his head to try to clear it, but it didn't seem to do much good. All the same, he had enough presence of mind to manoeuvre Fleur out of the bar and into an safe apparating spot a small distance away. "Damn, that was close. I can't believe I almost apparated in there. Well, no harm done."