"I thought you were going to say he had a secret and more subtle plan for world domination through crystalized pineapple," he explains, taking his drink from the waiter, who's suddenly looking like he's glad protocol prevents him from having to decide whether to run away or pull up a chair. "Or something."
"Don't ask," he says, waving a hand. "We rub each other the wrong way too reliably. Anyway, I don't think he likes explosions or penetrating smells, and I know I don't like his taste in ornaments. And," he half-grins, "god knows I'm old enough to have my own place. This would be the first time, do you realize? If you don't count 'the family home,' anyway. Which I don't."
Severus crooks a smile at him. "You have real talents other than your favorite ones. I remember that you were often sent to acquire artifacts, for one thing, and had a high success rate."