“It’s hard, to watch someone you love suffer, isn’t it?” Windsor asks, and I remember that his dad passed away a long time ago. I’ve never asked why. It seemed too personal of a question. Maybe … I could ask in private sometime? “Come to my family’s estate in Napa. We’ll be celebrating … what is that grisly American holiday that celebrates genocide and racism, Thanksgiving is it? … yes, we’ll be celebrating Thanksgiving there. Mother will be attendance, if stuffy princesses are your sort of thing.”
