Prower-Graves chuckled a little as he chewed on the apple slice. "Of course it is, my dear. After all, all that English Stiff Upper Lipped-ness is but a mask of the true English passion that stirs in our breast; a passion that has to find an outlet in<em>some</em>area of life." he said waggling his eyebrows a little like Groucho Marx. "It might seem strange to some, seeing a fellow like me go from laughing and joking to being fire-breathing in anger in the blink of an eye, but that's just how it is." he shrugged, and then seemed to remember something as he pulled out a little white paper bag from his pocket. "Care for a jellybaby?" he asked her with a big, toothy grin.