Winter's tipping her head up to see who's there before Presley even speaks, curious about the shadow that's fallen over her. It's his voice that has her sitting up, draping her arms over her knees in a show of ease, and then letting her fingers fiddle together nervously completely giving herself away.

"Am I that hard to spot?" she asks with half a smile pointed up his way. Presley cuts quite the silhouette, a little disheveled, twirling that vape with his sleeves rolled. It makes Winter laugh, a huff of air through her nose, though she can't quite place why. Someday, he'll make a very good auror — or, well, whatever he wants to be, he'll be quite dashing while he does it.

Those are wandering thoughts, though, embarrassing when looked at with too much scrutiny. Has her expression gone soft at the sight of him? Ugh. The only solution is a joke, "Here to exact revenge for the c-cereal incident?"