"I've always been partial to A Tale of Two Cities," Q says absently, peeling carefully. "There's really no middle ground with Dickens. You either like him or you don't."
"If you could afford six footmen," Q says, scarcely breathing as he skims the knife over the orange, "it seems to me you could hire someone to play. And perhaps teach the children." Q stops and looks up, surprised. "Do you play whist Severus?" The orange peel, in one long piece, has coiled neatly on the table.
*snort* I can just see Sev reading for self-preservation, Rus hovering: 'Have you finished yet? What bit are you at now?' :D