For a moment he felt a twinge of inconvenience - he suddenly realized she looked like she might have been sleeping. But then, unless she was drinking in her sleep, maybe not, he reckoned as he watched her sit down. And far be it from him to second-guess her hospitality.
James plonked himself down on the couch, his cheeks feeling overly warm as the chill from the cool night air began seeping away. But it was nicer inside. And sitting was nicer still. Nice of her to offer, really. But Amarissa was nice. So he supposed it was just in keeping with the theme. Like her name.
"Now that's just plain clever," he commended bemusedly after her explanation of the cake. He chuckled for a moment before sagely adding, "You know, it might just be cultural differences, but in these parts, for special occasions? You know, for a gentleman's birthday or something, the best thing to do? Get a cake big enough to hide in. And then, at the opportune moment, you jump out of the cake. Wearing something very skimpy. That last part's rather important."
The cake itself had yet to be consumed. After all, the last time she'd given something to Sirius, it had turned out to be laced with veritaserum. Who knew what she might put in a cake. See, that was what muggles always got wrong in stories. Apples were hard to tamper with. Baked goods? For a witch who knew what she was about slipping something extra into sweet smelling baked goods was child's play. The Marauders needed sober testing in order to rest assured that no wool was taking up residence over their eyes.