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Dean Thomas (artistdean) wrote in finnigans_rpg,

He poked his tongue out at her and dropped his arms. Not that he was actually dismissive of what all his swimming had done for his physique, but it was far more of a side effect than it was intentional. "Oh, that would have been good. I am pretty thoroughly terrifying on both fronts, even if my father was a wizard, I didn't grow up knowing that." Dean saw her confusion and shook his head. "No, shells as in bombs, I think they were known as shells. First World War thing - Muggle war obviously, lots of shellfire." His history knowledge was pretty thin, whether wizarding or muggle, but some things just managed to seep in.

He nodded in acceptance. "I'm all for book suggestions. I mean I don't know when I'll get around to them, but I'll take a list and come steal, er borrow, the books from you if you've got them." He grinned brightly, knowing she wouldn't actually take the stealing comment the wrong way.

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. "Don't blame me for whatever happens when we finally come across each other if you don't remember then," he joked. Not that he really thought terror was a great plan, but then again he had PTSD so he was particularly wary.

He was amused as ever. "I don't get what you have against yams, but each to their own," he said diplomatically. He was rather fond of them himself, but he understood that people had different food tastes. "My weirder concoctions also come from sleep deprivation and insomnia, so take your pick of what to blame," he said with a shrug. "Recipes are for try-hards and people who can't actually cook," he said blithely. Not that he totally eschewed recipes, but particularly with non-baking things he took a bit of a fast-and-loose approach.