Rabastan refrained from making a face as he never took to his own father and much preferred to follow after the steps of his older brother. "I did not crucio him because of his hygiene issues," Rabastan started, sounding oddly petulant for a 43 year old man despite the truth in his words; he did not curse the other Deatheater over some smudged robes, "Although somebody really should." Rabastan drenched his toast in maple syrup- another act that irked his parents, they often pointed that he was no longer having toast with syrup but syrup with toast. Personally, he did not what was the big deal with that, syrup, and all other sugar based products, was delicious.
Taking a bite out of his toast, Rabastan shrugged, giving his brother a 'well, yeah' look. "I am too good for take out, especially that nasty fish and chips crap you like so much. It's like eating fried batter with a little bit of meat," Rabastan did not care for the fact that he was being hypocritical having been accused of muted taste buds syndrome, and a picky eater. Dinner time with the family had always been an issue for Rabastan as a child, as he would refuse to eat what was put out in front of him, kick up a fuss, and be subsequently sent to his room. Rodolphus always snuck him chocolate frogs, though.