Lion: “Oh, yes!” Pierce: “I’ll bring them over. Or slip one through the wall.” Islington: Flicks his eyes from me to Pierce. Lion: “Tybalt has been unwell in the garret twice. Did he eat something?” Islington: Opens his mouth, thinks better of it, says nothing. Pierce: “Not that I know of.” Turning to Islington, “We share the joint venture of a cat. Temporarily.” Islington: “Ah. Tybalt, King of Cats?” Lion: “I’ve long suspected.” Pierce: “Too much Shakespeare.” Islington: “Is there such a thing?” Lion: “Ah, look. St. Crispian’s duke has some good sense.”
