He would laugh it off, he usually laughs it off. But Joly's learned enough to know there are times when that's terribly unfair.

Still he can't keep out a small laugh when he meets Harry's eyes. "Yes. Yes, often." He looks away again, making a study of the cakes. "It's, I mean--well!" He reaches for one of the trays, not looking at Harry at all now. "Yes. But I, I-- it's not what anyone needs. It doesn't help anyone if I'm--" he waves his free hand--pointless, pointlessly irritated for a moment that he's doing this at a party, and-- "It doesn't help anyone, so I-- because--because I'm not going to be busy, uh, crying into my drink when it's time to do something--" Ugh, he can hear himself getting angry and flustered. "So-- so. Yes."

So he's going to shove a baked apple into his mouth, all right. That's productive.