Shoved out of the room, Flint shrugged. Hands still in his pockets, he waited outside for a moment until he heard the water to see if she needed anything. He didn't hear her slide the bolt across, but whatever.
He went to what had been his childhood room and which was now housing him once more until the living arrangements had been sorted. He presumed it would become his mother's room or a guest room. Not that they ever really had guests. A few old Quidditch posters still clung to walls, though as he eyed the posters of slightly more scantily clad female Quidditch players and set about taking them down. Probably wouldn't give Cho the best impression if she saw them.
With that act of consideration out of the way, Flint looked warily at the trunk at the foot of his bed. Yeah, he'd have to sort out his collection of adult material some other time. How much did he have, anyway? Flint cracked open the lid of the trunk, grinning when he saw what was on top of the piles of magazines. Flint scooped up handfuls of Quidditch figurines, dropping them on the bed.
He was busy charming the figurines to re-enact one of his favourite classic matches (sound effects supplied by himself) when he heard Cho call for him. Wand still clutched in his hand, Flint poked his head out the door. He swallowed, the sight at the other end of the corridor making his mouth feel dry. She was wearing a towel. Just a towel. That was kind of hot.
"Yeah?" he asked after a moment of simply staring.