"Whoops!" a voice declared in the back room, which might well translate as yes. In confirmation, Gabe's head appeared around the doorframe (attached to his body; it hadn't been that bad a whoops). He grinned when he saw his visitor. "Hey Spencer. Give me just a moment."
He disappeared back into the back room, but over the dull ironmongery clatter of cauldrons, he called, "I can't decide some days if the third years are filthily talented, or just filthy." A flash of purple sparks lit the doorway, and a moment later Gabe came sauntering out, wiping his hands on one edge of his loosely draped robes. "That'll do for now," he declared. "What can I do for you, man?"