"Well, you wave it about. Hard to miss. Especially when it was getting all giant-sized, while you were benched for flying into things like a twat," George answered.
His eyes narrowed, and then George smirked. Roger was asking for it. Sod him, then.
He plonked himself down on Roger's lap, squirming enough that it was probably either very uncomfortable, or a little too comfortable, and leaning to read over his shoulder. "It was probably the supply company twit. Or Verity. Maybe once you're with sprog, you forget how to read properly."