John returned the smile - no more genuine, and rather less animated - and gave the obligatory nod to confirm that, yes, Bloomsbury would probably stand up pretty well beside the more rural African settings. He'd have thought a traveler, particularly one who sounded quite so experienced, would be more than capable of handling his own financing. But either way, it spoke to a general self-sufficiency, and that was good.
"A naturalist. Really." He settled back into his chair, a flicker of real interest passing through his eyes - not because he knew the first thing about animals, but because he'd been assuming Rolf was a novelist or something of that ilk, and had just become decidedly more well-disposed toward him. If forced to choose between a writer of a scientific bent or, say, a poet as a flatmate, he didn't see how there could be any competition. "I'm an Auror." He supposed there must have been an equivalent in Germany, but he hadn't the faintest what it was called, so he went on to explain: "A - criminal investigator, mostly. Generally involving Dark magic." He always managed to make it sound boring.