That little thing there - letting him have his moment - it struck George as something different, because he felt like most of the time, he got some sort of comment, or look, or cross-out, or something else each time it happened. And those reactions always made it a little worse for him. It had been a year since he had gotten to the village just hours after the death of his brother, and he couldn't cope with it or start healing any faster than he was already.
But not wanting to fall behind or extend the discomfort any longer than he had to, George refocused and kept up with the joke. "Whistles and bells, Trish. Whistles and bells. Except the map would be wearing them, not me."
The second nudge almost tickled a bit and he recoiled with a chuckle, but didn't pull back enough for them to separate as they walked. "At least one of us? It was definitely just one of us. It was just me." He would have been a bit grumpy, back in school, with his twin if he had snogged Trish as well.
Whether or not he wanted it to, a smile broke out on George's face for a second after the bit about his smile. When was the last time anyone ever told him something like that, either? Or maybe it hadn't been that long, and it just felt like longer. Or maybe it -- whatever. He was overthinking things again. "My smile? Wait, is that just some really cute way of saying Fred's the more fun one?" he nudged back.