What if she still didn't know what he had been talking about? Michael briefly wondered if he was going to have to take out a quill and some parchment and literally write down a message to her about ink being on her nose, but that thought disappeared when she started to wipe away any proof that anything had ever been on her face. "I usually get it on my chin," he responded. "But that's because it always itches there. I don't know why, really." Okay, so that only happened once, but he decided to mention it anyway.
Ah, Transfiguration. Now that was one of the things he knew he was good at, along with Potions. It was actually quite enjoyable, too. Certainly more than Herbology, but he wasn't going to start a rant about that. "I'm pretty good in Transfiguration," he said casually, trying not to let his voice show that he knew he was damn good at it. "Don't think I ever got a bad mark in that class, really. I could help make it easier for you, if you'd like."
Michael was always one for watching people's faces when she spoke to them, mainly so he could attempt to read any sort of emotion they were feeling. It wasn't hard to sense that Evelyn was suddenly thinking about something else, and he followed her line of vision, even as it quickly shifted back and forth, to a book right on the top of the stack. It looked like some sort of...naughty literature! Or perhaps not, but that wonky looking man certainly had a lot of hair.
"Yeah, of course. What were you reading?"
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