Percy turned to the doorway when he heard a voice, lifting his chin a fraction so he could see through the lenses of his glasses.
"Good evening," he said, and a little crisply, his anger having not ebbed away completely. His eyes flickered over the Healer - she looked vaguely familiar, though he wasn't able to recall her from any specific event. Perhaps he'd seen her around the Ministry before. A good look at her robes alerted him to the fact that her name was Jones. It still didn't ring a bell.
"Well, Healer Jones," he said, feeling a flush creep up from the collar of his robes. "I was gifted with a prank from my brothers. I'm not sure if you're familiar with them; they own Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes." If she was a Healer and wasn't familiar with them, he'd eat the fez cap he'd bought in Egypt.
He cleared his throat delicately and continued. "It was a telescope, and when I picked it up, it exploded and punched me in the eye. This," he indicated the bruise, "was the result."
Shaking his head at her question, he was momentarily relieved that the extent of his injury wasn't that bad. "No, no. It's just a bruise, I think. My vision's always been poor, mind you, but that hasn't changed in the course of the evening."