He shrugged again and moved past her to pull out a seat at the table. It was all a bit much in his opinion but he took advice directly from his mother's old house elf, Migs. The old elf was an odd one, far more odd than any elf Marcus had ever known. He often spoke out of turn, acted flamboyant and muttered French obscenities when things didn't go his way. It was Migs who taught Marcus how to cook, Migs who encouraged Marcus to use his garden in an attempt to impress the witch.
It was Migs who seemed to understand Marcus better than Marcus understood himself, sometimes.
"I use some potions, yeah, but mostly.. my sundays, on off game days are spent doing work. I guess it's sort of therapeutic or what the fuck ever," he muttered, feeling a bit embarrassed. He smiled though, sat down when she did. He had his wand pulled out from under his vest and used it to make the teapot hover up and pour it's self into the two cups.
"You can ask me anything, if you want. To be honest there is a lot people don't know about me."