“I’m not interested in that pheasant, I’m going to get a fresh one.” Marius could hear him hiss under his breath as he passed “Bloody… incompetent… both of them… bloody fobs and their bloody orgies… discussing… all of you.”
Back in the kitchen Bertrand grabbed the bottle from the counter, sitting down in his chair next to it. His eyes eagerly slide over many whips, rods and flails in the chest. He motioned for a chair while exclaiming to the onlookers “The flower seems to be on fire, bring us some wine to cool the heat.” An elderly man made quick steps, hoping to be first with his goblet filled with spirits. As she watched to where the sounds came from she could see Bertrand turning the corner, carrying the head of her husband with him. To say you’re sorry for doubting my story.” The young man pulled a face as if he felt insulted. “Well better get start with the next meal…” he looked at the old man who seemed to be lost in either the bottle
