George folded his arms indignantly. A Gryffindor wouldn't make a good ninja? What kind of nonsense was that? He poked his tongue through the new hole in his mask, making way for the straw, and sipped at his drink.
Not very ninja-like, perhaps, but it was getting the job done. He drank until there was nothing but ice and set the glass aside, then leaned toward Charlie, his back to the girl. "No idea who the other one is, but apparently, I could be him..." He found this even more amusing now that his brother was in on it, somehow, and leaned against the makeshift bar, grinning under his mask.