Laughing a bit, Charlie leaned against the counter as he turned the quaffle over in his hands a few times. Perhaps the talent had been wasted, that he could agree with to an extent, "I'm working as a dragon-keeper. Well, was," he replied, shrugging a bit, "now I'm at Hogwarts teaching Care of Magical Creatures. It's certainly different from working in Romania."
Nodding, he set the ball down. Charlie did not have a particular reason to be browsing the shop, but there would always be that part of him that missed the rush of flying, of being in a game with people in the stands cheering and shouting. "You're favourite, eh? I think I recall reading than in an article." Charlie read as much as he could, but knowing too much about any one particular player would have seemed a bit much, and he was not in a place to obsess over anything (nor was it a part of his character to, unless it was his work). "And I have no idea where I would have gone. I'd've probably stayed within the U.K. just to be closer to home, but then again I ran off to Romania to work with dragons. Probably..." he paused, folding his arms over his chest, "probably with whoever wanted me," he settled, laughing a bit.
"You've probably gotten better offers. I've seen you play, Flint. You were brilliant in school, and you're even better now."