It was expected that she would have asked that question, though Ron personally wasn't actually prepared to answer. He didn't have a logical explanation. He'd already gone training, he wasn't on the list for this week, and he had no excuse to come around and visit the trucker hat bearing fellow who lived here to begin with. Ron barely stifled a wince, prior to ducking his head into the refrigerator. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm hungry. Wanted food. Now I'm lookin' for food in this here fridge. Is that a problem?" He didn't mean to come off sounding so defensive, but that was the truth of it. He was being defensive because, quite honestly, Ron had nothing else to really say on the matter. "What'd you put on that sandwich?" He poked his head past the fridge door slightly. His eyes were there, but the rest of his face was carefully hidden by the presence of the door.
He was asking her what she had put on her sandwich. In a place that was hundreds upon hundreds of miles away from where he was supposed to be. What was Ron doing with himself, exactly? Why had he thought that coming out here would be a good idea in the first place? Merlin, he was coming off as a complete and total lunatic, wasn't he? It didn't help that she was still that Pretty Girl. Pretty Girl was still pretty, although Ron felt more than certain that this time around if they'd have started over on the whole meeting each other thing he'd have been far less likely to jump aboard the ship of madness and marry her straight off.
"...it's not corned beef, is it?" Ron added weakly, shoulders falling awkwardly.