Rodolphus murmurs a 'thank you' and takes a gulp of tea, grimacing when he burns his tongue. He absently does a cooling charm. "Well then," he says, observing the eye-flick and eyebrow raise, but pretending not to notice. "Hard to make beer without hops." He finishes the other sandwich and wipes his mouth on his sleeve. Table manners have never really mattered to him and he's been living rough for eleven years. "I appreciate that Lucius. But I really ought not to impose. I can get a room somewhere; I have muggle money." He pats his pocket and takes a drink of tea. He can't wait to hear the reaction to this.