Trev Scabior sold his scruples for a galleon. (opportunist) wrote in wished,
"What?" he stared her look of amazement down with his own of defiance. "The Three Broomsticks does a good fry-up, owls deliver and fucking everywhere boxes things up for take-away," he explained, counting off the options on his fingers. "And then there's always Gretch. She can make eggs but I never watched it 'appen, did I?"
He downed more of his wine as he leaned in to watch her cook with renewed interest. "You should 'ope your kid is as clever as me," he said, completely missing the possibility the kid in question wasn't merely a hypothetical one.