Neville was wiping down the counters of the main bar, having accidentally spilled a pot full of the soup of the day. His eyes kept flashing up, as they always did, observing who was in his establishment at any given time. He liked knowing who was around. It helped him feel secure, even when death eaters were around. With that in mind, his eyes were following a little girl, who had happened to pass by his gaze at first. He couldn't quite figure out whom she was, and he made it a rule to know.
He set the rag down, whistling to one of the bus boys to finish cleaning up the mess. He stuffed his hands into his robe pockets, going through the kitchen entrance. He walked past one of the cooks, before popping out the other door that lead to the back hallway. He leaned against the door frame, looking at the girl now.
Ah, Rose.
For a brief moment, he smiled. It was always nice to see an old friend and he hadn't seen her since she was much younger. But it did concern him, how willing she was to walk around Diagon Alley with such little cover. "Hello Rosie," he said quietly, lifting his eyes to look at her. He hoped he didn't scare her or intimidate her, he didn't want that.