Severus lifts a bemused eyebrow at him. "They're hardly expensive, but if you like."
"Ah, poor choice of comforts, of course." Severus tops off his glass and hands it to him.
"I'm hardly boasting, Ro--Rus," he says levelly, holding his eyes. "I'm giving you the weapon I made."
"Taste is an experience layered in time," he says. "There's heat which persuades, and heat which bludgeons. And thank you so much for that image. I know I shall dream tonight of biting into food which turns out to be feathers."
"Anyone have a handkerchief?" Severus asks helpfully. He is, of course, wearing a cravat. He likes them, and on top of that, he has this scar...
It is, and I am occasionally tempted to get one of the books about it. For entire microseconds. :D When it's in the kitchen, he doesn't usually make notes, just throws stuff together. By now he knows which powders and liquids not to combine. ;) And the deadly nightshade. ^,^ (would comment on continued success but does not want to jinx it!)