"Wh -- hey!" Hastily, Alistair finishes filling the kettle and tries to bolt for the door, which turns into a quick twisting maneuver to dodge around a few of the cooks.

"Of course!" he hears someone chirp behind him. "It'll be just a moment -- "

"Did I say anything? No!" It would probably be easier to plead his case if he wasn't still grinning a bit. He seizes a pair of teacups en route. "I did not, Rutherford. I did not say a single word about you or your sausage -- "

That does little except set the maid off again.

"I was being good!" he finishes, only to be brought up short by a cook thrusting a steaming hot bowl of porridge in his face. Alistair looks at the bowl; looks at the door; his shoulders droop. In a mumble, as he accepts the proffered food: "Thank you. Much appreciated."