"Father would punish people for sitting weird," Rabastan replied and placed his brother's coffee in front of him, followed by his own cup of tea. There were already a box of sugar cubes and cream held in a delicate Victorian cup on the table. It belonged to the owner of this cottage before them, and whoever it was, he or she had extremely expensive tastes. Rabastan sprinkled pepper all over his own breakfast until it was mostly grey with speckles of eggs, an act that irked his mother and father to no end.
Rabastan would gladly accept the proposition of gaining a house elf, but a captive chef he was not so keen on because that just meant more work for him, having the guard the bloody person. He'd rather lighten the load rather then to burden himself. "Besides, I'd rather not starve," Most people would never guess looking at how Rabastan behaved outside of the comfort of his own home around his brother, but he had quite a mouth should he chooses to use it.