[ Luna's shifted slightly in her seat until she's leaning back in her chair and against his arm, one leg curled under her, contemplatively surveying the man over a piece of grilled octopus. It's endearing, hearing Charlie talk so firmly and passionately about what he does. He knows exactly what he wants. It's a charming difference from her own post-school existence: he's a steady lodestone compared to the way she meanders through life, picking up hobbies, dropping them, drifting back to them after a while, trying to sort herself out. ]

That's lovely. It must be nice, knowing right from the start. I took a few years before I could decide. For a time it was the Quibbler, then art, then photography, then maybe I could go into teaching because a few of the others did, you know, but then I saw the syllabuses and decided I would simply rather not. I don't think the Ministry would be for me, either. [ Her nose wrinkles. ] Too many rules.

I do think the journey is part of it, though, so I don't mind taking a while.