Despite the slight ache in his knees he'd alluded to earlier, Tewdric walked briskly along the hall as they conversed, expecting his son would keep pace as a matter of course.
"Oh, the research goes tolerably well; the work proves more fruitful in some areas than in others, though of course that is to be expected. And of course, my other duties as always take precedence." He did not elaborate on said 'duties,' again, assuming that young Theodore would understand what he meant.
As they approached the dining room, the door opened before them--presumably by one of the House Elves, although by the time they entered the room the creature had departed. The room was well lit, by another fireplace (this one not connected to the Floo network), wall-mounted candelabra, and a wrought-iron chandelier, but the rich oak of the furnishings and the dark greens of the wall paper, formal rug, and assorted wall-hangings still gave the room a dark, shadowed feel. Of course, by comparison to the Great Dining Hall downstairs, it was positively cheery. The table was already set for two with the soup course already cooling at the plates. French Onion Soup, unless his nose deceived him. "Ah, and it seems we've contrived to arrive precisely on time, after all."
There was a touch of humor to this: father and son were always prompt.