If he went out anywhere it was usually in groups: either because of some lingering Hufflepuff value or more likely because one-on-one conversation could be exhausting. Hestia and Terence were his preferred group, even if his role was frequently as a buffer between their more volatile personalities. It made him sad, a bit, to think that was over -- though he didn't believe it was. The two of them fought so often that Terence's firm declarations that he'd never talk to Hestia again didn't seem to ring any more true to Morgan than they usually did. Still, if the argument was fresh he didn't want to remind Hestia about the 'good old days'. The Nutella proved doubly useful in that regard: he couldn't respond because his mouth was full. (By now, half the loaf was gone, and a quarter of the jar.)
"I try to be," he said, when he'd swallowed, only too happy to let her change topics. "There's something about the curse where I can't get my iron levels stable except through meat consumption, though, and they were still a little low today, so -- honestly, it's your show tonight. Make whatever you'd like, I'll eat it and ask for fourths, even if it's a slab of raw steak." Actually, that didn't sound as disgusting as it should. Nevermind. "I try not to be a demanding dinner guest. Who knows what evil criminal tricks you have up your sleeve. Snails and things," he teased. "France, really? Why would they say that?"