Isaac ignored her comment about him playing for Gryffindor. Did she have something against Gryffindor? Or just Quidditch? Either one wasn't worth arguing over.
Her smile came easy, and he watched her closely. He nodded when she asked about his shower. "Ah, I see," he said. Then he winked at her. "You're top shelf which means you're saying no to me because I'm, well, let's be honest, I'm not on a shelf." Isaac wasn't used to being turned down, but not all birds could handle him. He understood that. Their loss.
He leaned close enough to whisper in her ear, "If you change your mind and feel like coming off your shelf, I can promise to get you soaking wet in my shower." Then he moved away, stood up, and nodded his goodbye. He needed another fucking drink.