‘They’re angels,’ she said. ‘They’ll love you and be perfectly harmless,’ she said. ‘They’d be proper practice for you as a possible, perfectly patient parent…’ Cole Porter Lipton cursed the foul charges as he juggled the phone in one hand and the can of tuna fish in the other as both villainous felines dug their claws into his shins.
“Nioma,” he said through his gritted smile, “Remember the deal of you bringing me back some proper Paris or London tea? Make it German beer and we’ll call it even.”