Out of the corner of his eye, Pete caught the flurry of dislodged blades of grass when his lion flopped heavily to the ground.
"He showed no interest," he said, pushing against Ryland's side. It had been a long fucking month, and he wasn't turning down proximity, not even if students could wander by at any moment. "Reginald is...?"
He would be the least surprised if Ryland had named his Patronus Reginald. The least.