Fraser really, really hoped that Ray didn't mean he hadn't washed those otherwise. He was just going to pretend that was what Ray meant. It was one thing to let hygiene slip when you were, say, tracking a criminal across the tundra; it was entirely another when you were living in an apartment in Chicago with running water. Of course, this was the opinion of someone who not only did his laundry with conscientious regularity but also ironed and starched everything he owned, so they might have been coming at this from two opposite extremes.

Anyway, he was just going to pretend that wasn't what Ray meant.

Besides, there were more important things to worry about (especially since Ray was now clean. In theory.). "I'm not really sure. I'd been thinking perhaps in its hatband." His frown deepened. "This is all really very strange, Ray. And the butter... that doesn't quite follow."

He looked over towards the tent village and bit his lip, scratching thoughtfully at his ear. "Do you think we might go and see your tent? I'd like to take a look. Maybe speak to a few of the House Elves -- and yes, you should probably stop kicking them," he added wryly, glancing back at Ray. "They're not suspects. Although I admit the cattle prods were out of line." Probably. It was Ray, after all. He had a knack for provoking people. "Are you otherwise all right? You look very well."

He might have been about to continue the argument, but then Ray got concerned, in his Ray-ish way, and Fraser let it drop with a shrug. "It didn't seem germane. Anyway, I'm fine now, except for the memory loss, and there's not much anyone can do about that." He smiled uncertainly. "I just hope I'm not missing anything important, that's all. Shall we?" He looked around. "Where's Dief?"