Seamus couldn't say he was the best at reading people, but he knew something was off with Neville. If he was a betting man... well, he was a betting man. And he'd bet whatever was bothering Neville hadn't the slightest thing to do with Ron or Seamus's sizable stack of racy magazines. The pained look on Neville's face said something deeper was going on.
"Don' be feeding me bullshit, Nev," Seamus said seriously. "We don't have to be faking small talk, yeah? What's going on with you?"