"Some of the aurors have gained more acceptance of fitness," Robert told her. "As you can probably imagine, it was not that popular some years ago, but it has gotten better. We had a couple on staff that were remarkably fit and their effectiveness rates on the job were astounding. That translated into much better pay for them, understandably, and others wanted those benefits and copied their colleagues. They set a standard for performance that still has some effect and encourages some of the more ambitious to try to do better.'
Those, largely, were the ministry staff who went to the gym, the achievers who hungered for more of something, more success, more prestige, more money. At the other end of the spectrum were the ones that were burned out, willing to take the easy way out and use enchantments and potions to try to maintain their health. They tended to be the ones that he saw at St. Mungo's too, but not in the gym. Rather, they were in the hospital's gourmet quality restaurant at breakfast, tucked in with a full English every morning. Robert liked a full English too like any other self respecting Brit, but he also knew that he didn't dare indulge except on rare occasion. Nor did he participate in elevenses either except perhaps the tea--minus the crumpet, thank you.
For Robert, such tight discipline kept him healthier than a lot of other men his age, and that sort of fitness had meant the difference between death and life on more than one occasion. That was the reason he kept it up. He had a family that he dearly loved and a delightful three year old granddaughter that was the joy of his life. He wanted to be able to enjoy that to the fullest.
Typecast with the younger recruits as "the old man," he knew he was often the butt of jokes with some of the young, new auror recruits, and he had become quite accustomed to them eventually making their way in painfully transparent ways to challenge him to a run on the track in the fitness center, and when he defeated them, it left them slack jawed at him that "the old man" wasn't nearly as old as they'd taken him for.
When Rhiannon asked about a position for Beulah, it was not anything he had ever really given any thought to before. Hiring a teapot? What could he even offer her in terms of pay that would be worth her while? A teapot didn't actually need money.
"I never gave any thought to hiring a teapot," he said. "It isn't a bad thought, though. I'll have to give it some attention. Thank you." He listened to her talk about dancing and then shifting to martial arts. Discipline. Control. The shift had been away from fine arts to far more of a survival orientation. Beauty and fine arts had given way to battle skills and defense. She was guarded, and he understood that. The job required that.
And she liked reading. In that, the two of them might well be kindred spirits. He dearly loved finishing his day with a chapter or two of a good book. It was one of his favorite things in the world. Lyall and Remus had believed Robert would surely be a Ravenclaw because of what they called his "addiction to books" but, no. That dumb hat had pegged him as a Gryffindor. His mother, Hope, had accurately seen he had always had the heart of a Gryffindor, but Robert had still been surprised at the hat's choice for him.
Not that long ago, before he worked two jobs, he would go home at five, do a few hours of farm chores on his gentleman's farm, come in to whatever supper Kate had prepared, shower, finish reading the newspaper and then settle in with a book while Kate worked on some art project she always had in progress. Now, on weekdays, he rose at 4:30 am, was running by five, having breakfast by 6:30, at work by eight, then off to St. Mungo's in late afternoon, home, hopefully by 9 or ten for supper, then off to a shower, and a little time with a book before he did it all over again. There was not nearly so much time for books as he would like.
"That's one of my favorites too," he said simply. "An uninterrupted hour with a book? There are very few things that are better than that."