The more Emmeline spoke, the more Xenophilius realised how good it was to have a familiar face, a familiar person, speaking to him first thing since his return. He’d missed England, he’d missed London, but more than anything, he’d missed this. After weeks in the wilderness surrounded by the same three people, one of whom was a muggle so wizarding talk was out of the question, this felt like a warm cup of tea and a fire drawn at a familiar hearth. “Oh no, it’s very much going!” Xeno nodded his head vigorously. “We’ve got subscribers even, would you believe that? A whole six of them! Of course, they’re still crash-testing everything about it, per se, it’s not perfect science. Not that it’s supposed to be. Pandora and I are printing the lot at home, and we’ve got quite a few owls at our disposal although in need of a few more. Hence—” he gestured to his trolley, on the back of which hung a birdcage. Two, actually, although one was so small it was liable to be missed.
He nodded along to all of her good news, smile growing brighter with each new addition. “Ah! Wonderful, wonderful. Aced your N.E.W.T.s, I suppose. And the program! How’s that going? Still single? Well don’t despair, don’t despair, my darling. Every wonderful thing is just around the corner!” He flashed an extra row of teeth, giving a confident nod. Sometimes, people thought Xeno was faking all of his enthusiasm and optimism. Sometimes, he even felt it himself. But deep down, he truly, honestly wasn’t, and in the times it felt insincere (only when faced with insurmountable despair and circumstances at odds), it only meant all the more that he did it. He held others up, in a sense. But here was a young, bubbly witch, with a smile on her face fit to rival his. It was so refreshing to see! “No no no, it’s quite alright, quite alright. I’m so happy to see your face after so long. I would offer you a drink at the Three Broomsticks, have a proper sitdown, if I wasn’t, indeed, hurrying. Just a little. Got a train to catch later and have to pop in here,” he thumbed the Prophet building. “Last order of business but most important. Save the best for last, as they say,” he gave another nod. But he had a few more minutes still, he figured. He could afford a small chat with a friend and fellow ravenclaw.