Le comte des Deux Chats, GarGar extended his arm and snapped his fingers. His long suffering valet, Philippe rolled his eyes. “How may I serve you, my lord?” He asked.
“Hand me my damned lute!” Snapped GarGar. “This instance, Jacques!”
“Forgive me for contradicting you, my lord, but my name is Philippe.”
“Are you intentionally trying to drive me mad?” Said GarGar with exasperation. “The lute! Hurry! I feel a song!”
Philippe opened the chest that sat at the foot of GarGar’s bed and retrieved the lute. He placed it delicately into GarGar’s open arms. “Here, my lord.” He bowed and began to exit the room.
“Wait, Jacques! Er- I mean, Philippe! Don’t you want to hear me play?”
“Forgive me, my lord, but I don’t think my nerves could bear the heady pleasures of hearing you make music.” He paused, “In any case, there’s silver that needs polishing.”