Harry sighed and shook his head, picking up his glass and draining in quickly, enjoying, for once, the rush of alcohol down his throat. "Never mind. It was a..." He pauses, and then shakes his head again, "Never mind." He repeats, and pours himself another glass. "The wine's passable. Is it true you've warned the staff not to bring the best from the cellars when I call?"
"Look?" He smirks, and raises an eyebrow. "No thank you, I came here to check you weren't dead just yet, not go blind." Harry leans back a little, stretching out. "Besides, you need a bath. It smells like a brothel in here."