Merwyn's nervous laughter had always been something that his old Captain Brevis Birch had commented on, although he still wasn't sure to this day if he'd meant those comments sweetly or with disgust. He barely realised he was doing it and the way Gwenog let it pass quietly by spoke volumes of the difference between her and Merwyn's one true flame.
She was also able to read Merwyn quite well because he had been about to ask if he should go as soon as she'd mentioned that she'd been trying to scare people away. He opened his mouth and closed it again as soon as she reassured him that it didn't apply in his case and his expression went from apologetic to sympathetic - he well understood the vulturous ripping beaks of the press. Her comment about his flying though did take the wind right out of his sails; he sat back in his chair, his face now somewhere between ashamed and almost grieving as he picked at nothing on the tabletop. It was only for a moment before he rallied himself and forced a smile on his face that was no different than his most common smile, which just went to show how rarely his smiles were true.
They had been true for seeing Gwenog though and he tried to remember that as they spoke. "I'd never be a journalist." he said emphatically. "I can understand reporting on the Quidditch scores and stuff but really, who actually gives a fuck about the personal lives of people they're never going to meet? Why do people even care enough to read that crap?" Even if most of the crap in his case had been true. "I think the way you live your life regardless of what they say is admirable." he said, another one of those compliments that weren't by the fact that it was the truth.