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Tristan T. Travers (alliterative) wrote in finnigans_rpg,

Tristan let out a long, exaggerated sigh. "I've been replaced with a dog." He shook his head. "Maybe I should just go... stay at the Leaky then, yeah? I bet you gave the dog my bed, too," he teased, using the hand around his brother's back to gently poke at his far side. "You'll just have to come visit me without the dog if you want good conversation." Though, to be honest, Tristan didn't know how good he'd be at that just yet. He was so beyond out of the loop that the idea of trying to catch up with the world frightened him, just a little bit.

"Feeding me is good," he said to Pandora. But before he could tell her that she didn't have to worry about learning to cook for him, Julian spoke. And his brows rose high in interest, briefly, while he took in the news. He wasn't trusting enough to think his great-grandfather was giving him a house elf out of the goodness of his heart. Sure, Orville wasn't a total prat, but he didn't doubt that there was something else going on there. However, for the time being, he decided not to dwell on it. Let his great-grandfather's motives be a worry for another day.

"This is why you're not in the family business, eh? That, and you're shite at naming things," he said, laughing a bit. "But I've no idea what to ask if to make me first." Steak was in his mind, as well as shepherd's pie. However, part of him was scared he'd waste the food by throwing it up. Just the thought of such things made his stomach ache. He decided not to worry either of them with that information. "But first, I want that ice cream. I might be dying for something sweet. Six years without ice cream! That was the real punishment," he said, laughing again.