"Well, she doesn't make enough for everyone," Ron said, feeling weirdly defensive. "If someone can't make it, we'll just have leftovers for sandwiches and stuff." Molly's roast beef sandwiches were legendary, at least in Ron's opinion. "But it's nice." The only thing Ron found a little disconcerting were those Sundays when everyone else was busy and it was just Ron and his parents. It didn't feel right.
Ron watched Astoria swirl her drink, already fairly certain they wouldn't be getting a third round. He braced his fingers on the end of the table, feeling the varnish under his fingers instead of wood. "You can blame that on me too," he offered, gently self-deprecating. It wasn't bitter - he was certain Astoria was usually far better at making conversation than this. "Call it a special talent."