"As a matter of fact, I do believe George secretly considers it his favourite hobby to drive me insane."
His organization of the boxes stopped mid-motion, however, as he heard something that made him stiffen in umbrage.
"My bloke? And why, in Merlin's name, would you assume that I have a bloke?" He dropped whatever boxes were in his hands as they balled up and descended to his sides. "Why does everyone assume that simply because I am not a quidditch player, or because I am capable of having a meaningful conversation about politics, that it means I'm one of those?!"
A modicum of reality broke through his personal outrage, reminding him of partly-overheard conversations about friends and acquaintances and Oh my bloody hell, he's one of them, isn't he.
"...Not that there's anything necessarily wrong about being... different, other than that simply is not who I am."
He cleared his throat and absently brushed some non-existent lint from his robes. "Pardon me while I, ah, find my way out."