"Who said I was a professional athlete?" Harry asked casually, raising an eyebrow. He didn't remember mentioning that he'd taken up Quidditch, though of course Jack could have read about it somewhere or possibly even read it through the journals. Anything was possible. "Merlin, a pretzel? Wow. That sort of sounds like a really aggressive version of the Weasley household." He said, laughing a bit at the mental image of a human pretzel version of Jack.
"Those rules don't sound very fair to me," He mentioned, taking a long drink of mocha as it began to cool. It could be ice-frozen and he'd still enjoy it. He resisted the urge to try and peek around to see what Jack was doing, becoming more and more curious to see if he'd been turned into a horridly scarred, big nosed bird or something equally horrid.
"Merlin, I certainly hope..." He shook his head, not able to keep the disgusted look off his face. "He's really not my type, anyway." Shit. He felt a crimson blush fill his cheeks and stared hard at the tree behind Jack's shoulder, watching as a leaf fell off one of the lower branches and drifted to the ground. "Anyway. It's just ridiculous. He pretty much told me that even though he agreed with me on a really important matter, he couldn't really do anything about it because...oh, how did he word it?" He paused, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to remember. "Something about his voice not being his own, or something?"