Originally Posted by Vinegar Tom

Chaucer agreed, but couldn't help feeling a little inadequate nontheless. He knew his parents would never have to taste the crushing defeat that an upper-middle class lifestyle was sure to provide, but his sister and himself might not be so lucky. It was for this reason alone that his research demanded success.

"Well, struggle breeds character I think. Sometimes when one gets to the top he becomes twice as bitter and abuses his rank, however well-earned." Noting Severia's small bites, he straightened his back and lifted a small portion of Yorkshire pudding to his mouth. His eyes became a little glazed over, almost bored with his own statement that followed: "I wonder how I shall take retribution on those wicked postulants from the academy?" He made a sigh, bereft of all the theatrics that would normally have accompanied it, and went to drink from his goblet.
"Wealth is tedious." He muttered, not hearing the debate between the siblings. He couldn't help but wonder, amongst his self-pity, what exactly happened to that bit of mashed potatoes he threw earlier.