Dave scoffs, but he's smiling a little when John pulls away. He lets go reluctantly, feeling the absence of John's hug more acutely than he felt its presence. He glances away when John sits back down, and then he bundles his robes onto his lap, picking up his wand and pointing it to his sleeve with a muttered "scourgify". "Then I should say thanks..."

Once the torn sleeve was clean, he picked up the needle and held it gingerly in his right hand. His left arm was shaking as he raised the thread, and he stuck out his tongue in concentration, even though it was obvious that the thread wasn't getting into the eye of that needle anytime soon.