"Mmmphrf," Gabe said, around a mouthful of paella, which he chewed enthusiastically (while pouring wine generously into two more transfigured sugarbowls - and if one still had a rose-pattern on the glass, so what? It held wine, that was the important thing). By the time he was leaning across to bestow the glasses upon his companions, he could actually say reasonably clearly: "Had them first thing this morning. Travelling circus of trouble." As though it were a toast, not a dire labelling, he cheerfully lifted his own glass and drank, before attacking his lunch again.