[Harry spreads his fingers in front of himself like a little makeshift barricade.]

...Noooope. No, sorry.

[He can't remember how he got half of them, for one thing, and as for the shiny new additions — his pre-scars, if you will? To quote Cuno, "Everyone says you started crying in the middle of a firefight and bled like a pig."

Another well of shame has sprung up somewhere in the pit of his stomach.]

Let's leave the scar talk for the second date, okay? Keep this last section light. [The barricade breaks as he throws his hands into an unenthusiastic finger gun display. Pow pow.] Quickfire round!

Khm — [That's not a question. He's clearing his throat. Loudly.] Favourite kinda music?