Christopher sat, and the generic office chair was decidedly uncomfortable. At her inquiry, the former Slytherin could not help but shrug, he figured that he should be scared, which he was, but just... not enough. He was mainly, after some thought, irritated for rather vague reasons. And impatient, which is new. Christopher had always had pride for his patience, he was once a ministry accountant, after all. But all this waiting, for some messenger whose boss kidnapped his wife to come to take his money, that was pissing him off. "Ask me later," he decided.
"Again, I apologize, this must be difficult for you," Christopher offered quietly, not quite sure what to do with his legs and hands, and ended up folding them neatly together like something that came in a neatly folded package. "Anything you can tell me on the day it happened. That would be great..."