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Tonks is proud of her name (chromatophoric) wrote in silverage,

"If I only had such an excuse. To be tall and gangly like." She sighed in an overdramatic fashion, trying not to laugh as she did it. Unfortunately, the witch was just a little shorter than average, so had no excuse save for spastic limbs.

A frown appeared at the talk of the spaceman being the only one left. "That's rather sad, really. I can't imagine being the only one left." Though, were certain madmen to have their way, there'd only be a certain type of magic left. The random thought made her wonder what the rest of the Order was doing -- how they were doing. She had to get back to them, and soon.

But the depressing talk (and thoughts) were pushed away, a laugh bubbling forth as she stared at Amy. "You remind me of a girl I know. Ginger too. Like my little sister, really." It was a tangent, a pretend tangent. "And people say we look just like sisters..especially if my hair's like this." Red. Not pink anymore, but a Weasley Red. Tonks had briefly thought on it, and the colour bled from one to another quick and easy.

And then she was answering the question, amused at the mild disbelief she believed she caught there. "Loads, really. We're everywhere, and you never quite know who we are. Aren't supposed to tell. Some of us even come from Muggles -- non-magic folks. My dad is a wizard with non-magical folks. My mum comes from a very long line of wizards and witches." Which made Tonks herself the proud little halfblood that she was. Then she grinned impishly, eyebrows lifting.

"Reckon though that you want proof." More proof than just her hair. "Got something in your pockets? Paper, bauble."