"Rita Skeeter..." The name sounded familiar, but Frank could put a face to it. He was already feeling slightly tipsy from his drink. As much as Frank liked to drink every now and then, his tolerance wasn't very high. At least it was cheap when he went out to pubs. At the mention of Death Eaters, Frank's face turned instantly sour, like he was sucking on a lemon. He was never a person to hate anyone, but Death Eaters were an exception. Frank hated them all, and was unapologetic about it.
"Glad I didn't come around when she was in charge, then," he muttered before drinking more.