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Ne’ve once!’ She screamed. Bretta, the cook, stepped forward from the servants stationed near the door to the kitchens, and took Netty into her hands. Netty was sobbing loudly now, her entire body sinking slowly to the ground. Bretta held her up as much as she could, but when she too began to slide to the ground, Harold the blacksmith came forward, and picked up Netty. ‘If it be fine with ye, my lord, I would take Netty to her chambers now.’ Cien stood facing the men accused. He didn’t take his eyes off them when he gave a nod. He stared at Brenden with such pure hate, he wasn’t sure it was of a natural occurance. As he stared at Brenden, the other two accused stood slowly, flanking their obvious leader. ‘Gwain Fraser, Ulrick Fraser and Brenden McPhearson,’ he said slowly, ‘I am giving you ten minutes to get out of my sight,’ he bit out angrily. Brenden, thinking this was all he was going to do snickered. ‘And off my land.’ Brenden’s jaw dropped, and he took a step forward. Cien. Paul suggested that he and I make a final batch of drinks before we call it a night. Not that we needed any more to drink, but at that point, judgement wasn't our best virtue, so the two of us proceeded to high five our way into the kitchen to hit the liquor cabinet one last time. As soon as I got up, Debbie took my seat next to Peter on the couch saying she was going to get to the bottom of who Peter's married target might be. And while Paul and I worked on drinks, Debbie was going to grill Peter for the information. Even though it was just the four of us, it was still pretty noisy with music playing and our voices still in party mode. Paul and I snuck in a shot of tequila while we were mixing drinks (bartender privileges!) and we were laughing up a storm when things suddenly got just a bit quieter. Not quiet. Just not quite as loud. That's when we noticed we were the only ones left talking. We could no longer hear Debbie and Peter. So, we grabbed the drinks and stumbled back into.
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