Monsieur le Premier ministre sat trembling in the chair. Everything around him was chaos. His sudden collapse when having tea with the Princess had left him shaken. The pain in his chest had abated somewhat, but it was still there. What have I done to deserve this? He asked himself. While his ability to endure pain was colossal, gigantic, titanic, the attendant worry that came along with this particular pain was difficult to stomach.
“Here, my lord,” said Lady Greenmeadow, “Drink this.” She held a goblet of wine to his lips and poured, happy to see a droplet of red liquid run down his chin. He began to sputter.
“My God, woman!” He said angrily. “Are you trying to drown me?”