Mitch tilted his head and just looked at her for a moment before shaking it in disagreement once again. "I'm not so sure you're a squib either," he answered in an amused tone, taste testing the fish that he had microwaved to make sure it was sufficiently hot. It wasn't fabulous and certainly not as crispy as something from the oven. But without an oven available, it was good enough. He would've offered some to the cat as well, had she not seemed perfectly content with stuffing her face full of tuna. It was probably better for her. If she was in no hurry, he would eat slow until he perhaps forgot it was time to leave. He was in no hurry either.
"Fuck the Death Eaters. Voldemort's a pussy." The man had decided when he was a younger boy reading the books that anyone that afraid of death couldn't possibly be as terrifying as everyone thought he was. So what if he killed people? There were plenty of people capable of killing people, that didn't mean they were something to be feared. Without the idiots Tom Riddle talked into following him, he would've been nothing. Grindelwald was almost respectable in that sense, but Mitch wasn't a very good follower and he didn't particularly care for either of them. "Don't you think so?" She had read the books. It would be interesting to find out.
His eyes turned to the screen, watching the familiar opening. He had always been bad about talking during films, but he didn't want her to miss too much.