Great, now she looked like an incompetent witch, too.
He probably didn’t mean it like that. Of course he didn’t mean it like that, he was just trying to be nice. Probably. Not everyone used every interraction as an opportunity to prove your inferiority. There were just a lot of those people at the ministry.
Besides, she could probably do a cleaning spell, theoretically .She was a grown woman, and a decent spellcaster - except she had only tried one of those once, in Second year, and had ended up setting fire to her skirt, so she’d avoided them ever since.
“You know, that would be lovely. It would certainly save me a trip home. I would have cast something myself, but I’ve had some pretty disastrous results with that kind of emergency spell. But if you know something that works, that would be lovely.”
It’s hard to put into words how exactly he knows. Perhaps it’s just years of reading people. Perhaps it’s just that she’s an easy read. Perhaps he’s just on top of his shit today. No matter the reason, he can tell she’s overthinking the whole thing. This constitutes his second good deed for the day, and frankly that may be just his fill. True charity came sparingly from Ambrose Selwyn, at least these days, and he’s not above admitting that. Well perhaps he is right now, but not in most scenarios.
There’s the smallest hint of a tease to his smile as he nods, brandishing his wand. A small flourish and some murmured words produce the faintest hint of steam from his wand which all but slithers towards the young woman, wrapping itself around the stained portion of her shirt. It seems almost to sap the discoloration from the top and into itself, a sponge of sorts, and as the faintest hints of the stain vanish, as does the steam, tinted faintly the color of coffee.
“Right then. There you go, Miss...?” He pauses, allowing her the space to provide her name. “All cleared up and good to go.”
