Mari glanced back at the other girl. Goodness, she'd kill for hair like that. Hers was blunt and brown. "Yeah, it is, actually. I'm from the south of Spain." The brunette blushed, suddenly a bit self-conscious. Having been in Scotland for five years, Marisol was beginning to wonder if she'd ever lose her blatantly Andalusian accent. Even her father, who worked for the Daily Prophet, spoke better English. Well. Maybe that was why he worked for the Daily Prophet. Whatever.

Marisol forgot her awkwardness as she continued to speak."I'm fine, she said with a dismissive wave of the hand. They could talk about that another time. "You, on the other hand, don't look too great. No offence," she added.