For a moment, Ryder freezes, fruit held to her lips, like a child caught about to eat a pilfered cookie. Her eyes dart to the speaker, and when she sees it's another woman about her age (and not, say, her father apparating from beyond the grave to lecture her) she relaxes, lowering the fruit.

"No clue." Her reply is cheerful, if somewhat wry. "But if I die eating it, my last request is for everyone to be told that I died saving orphans from a burning building, or something." Not that she makes any more attempts to eat it. Being stupid in front of strangers is so much more embarrassing than doing it by yourself.