Who’s going to maintain their gardens and wait on them in cafes? Who’s going to nanny their children and press their pants? Oh, right… Klaus only wears… what do you call HIS get-ups? Costumes? Strings of fig leaves? No need for pressing. Who’s going to knit Billy (from the) Gates of Hell’s little Mr. Rogers-type cardigans when all the useless eaters are gone? Us free-thinking purebloods? Is that what they think?