George eyed the bottle, then nodded as she poured. "Never can be too safe." He lifted his drink to her, then leaned across the table so he could tap his finger in front of her.
"A Weasley," he slurred, a near whisper, "could fuck a girl from across the room. That's what 'you know.' You know?" He nodded, tapping the table again, then sat back.
"Well, maybe not Percy. He'd likely do it from the hall, so he didn't have to touch her or anything." Another nod, and he tossed back his drink, waving at the waiter as he passed. "He also," he added in a stage-whisper, "Organised my tea, by alphabet. And I've only got two sorts of tea."