He cut off a hunk and placed it on her plate. He cut himself a bit too, and carried his plate and soda to the table where he settled down. He was more than a little hungry. "They only come twice a week to clean and do laundry. And cook. I guess Mum could spare them more if we wanted them to cook everyday, but to be honest I don't like living with them. Gives me the creeps."
He started eating with gusto, but with his well-bred manners. The only time he really got sloppy eating was when he was drunk. It was another thing his mother had drilled into him, along with dancing lessons and cooking. Perfect table manners didn't seem to fit in with his persona, but they certainly fit in with his last name.