No, I don't think that's how it works, [Harry says by way of agreement. He'd actually started to raise his arm, automatically, but it'd become very clear immediately that he was a tick of a clock-hand too slow and doing it voluntarily, so he'd let it fall back to his side. His eyes drink in James' face very closely, in a way that would easily be considered weird if context weren't just as much so.] But I agree on that count.

You look a bit younger. I'll, um, endeavor not to let you know what's coming so we don't muck it up, [he says, rousing himself suddenly, and making a mental commitment to tell Hermione about this. Never has it become so extraordinarily important to make plans for these manipulations and visitations from timelines.

The thought of Hermione is like a totem to him. He decides to try to be practical and helpful. He forgets to check the color of James' eyes; the light does all kinds of weird tricks with jungle canopy anyway.] Listen-- if someone talks about Lily Potter having been 'round before, it's true; more weird stuff, basically. We had a nice mother-son bonding moment. I think she might still come back. Sometimes people do. [He tries to sound kind of casual about this, as if it has not been his deepest and most desperate desire since the Jump her gravcouch turned up empty.

As he's on the wrong train of thought at the moment, he doesn't expect at all that he just totally hijacked James' and dove it off the tracks and into a screaming ravine.]