Challenge: Mad-Eye Moody
Word Count: 100
“The brunch? Brunch?” Moody's eye actually stopped rotating for a moment. He jabbed his finger at Severus' chest. “What do they eat, live babies? Grave dust?”
Severus was tempted to say “spit-roasted house elf a la Russe, garnished with white truffle oil and artisanal wild-picked mushrooms,” but Moody had never been noted for his sense of humor. “Brunch food. You know, crepes. Bacon. Muffins. Fried toast. Yoghurt. Eggs done to order - ”
Moody's lips curled in an unusually unattractive fashion. “I've no time for five hour breakfasts. You should reconsider the company you keep.”
“Oh, I have.”