Spencer frowned. "Hey, whose side are you on, Roger?! That butcher is just a straight up arse, when things got to intense for him he called it off. Who does that?!"
"And you won't be trying one. Ever." Spencer tossed out there, suddenly having caught wind of their conversation. He was oddly strict when it came to smoking. Although, of course, occasionally, when drunk and the girls were out, Draco managed to rope him into a cigar.
As Roger innocently offered help, Serena eyed him. "He ate them. Merlin, Roger, don't I feed you enough?" Serena had been initially delighted to have someone to finally cook for ... but then she realised exactly how much her boyfriend (slash publically: fiancee) ate. It was good he made such a good salary, most people would go broke on his appetite.
"How do you like yours, Serena?" Spencer called out.
"Oh um, somewhere between medium rare and well done. You know what, let me just look and I'll tell you." Serena chirped back.
Spencer's eye twitched. He didn't handle any sort of direction well. "No, no, I know what you mean."
"Oh, but-" Serena suddenly caught wind of the looks Roger and Dina were giving her.