"You think one story about cats qualifies you as special?" Sirius asked, brow arching high. "Good opinion of yourself, lad?"
He reached for Bill's mug, momentarily ignored on the bartop, and took a swig from it; he had enough self-respect, these days, that getting so used on the job was no longer an option, but a drink or two here and there was fully acceptable. Normally he didn't take them out of the glasses of patrons, true, but Bill's ale was on the house at any rate. And Sirius was not above flirtation when it suited him. He never had been.