Lefevre had begun to build up steam for the lecture that was inevitably to follow, admonishing Perrot for his sulking like a teenage girl, when Chevalier - a hard-working but unfortunate man - made a deliberate show of delivering wine and coffee to the table. Lefevre hasn't planned on doing any drinking, but a single glass never hur-
Leon! Perrot roared, dashing out of the cafe.
The desire for the glass was short-lived, as Lefevre watched the pair dashing out the doors, looking at the wine with uncertainty and setting it down halfway across the table. They hadn't made it far down the hall, though, and as the Cafe had fallen immediately silent, rage could be heard seeping through the open doorway.
The Commissaire placed his elbows on the table, clasped his hands together, and rested his head on them, and began counting as the Directeur rose and walked out the door.
"One."
"Hello, honored ex-lieutenant"
"Two."
"So, -Brigadier-...as it stands, it seems that the drink you had dispensed to me was...tainted.
Now, Ive given that bartender enough tips to buy a small house and enough priase to cheer up a child-"
"Three."
"-with terminal cancer. So, that leaves only one person who had handled the wine. That'd be...you?"
"Four."
"Oui, that leaves me as the only person who handled the heavenly gift I bestowed upon you. That being said, your reaction seems to be less than-"
"Five."
"-gracious, I would like to ask you what exactly happened. If by tainted, you mean the extreme age of the wine, I sincerely apologize mon ami."
"Six."
"I'm talking about the distinct and abhorrent taste of phlegm that graced what would otherwise be a beautiful vintage. But Im not mad about the fact that you wasted such a wonderful-"
"Seven."
"-wine. Im mad that you thought you could pull it off when I was in -such a bad mood-. Surely you know me better?
"Eight"
"Oh, the 'mucus-wine'. Now THAT was hilarious. However, the fact that you're in a foul mood troubles me, was it perhaps, that you've ruined a chance for a possible-"
"Nine"
"-promotion, by leaving the discussion with the Directeur to come and confront me?"
"Ten"
"Have I, really? Because, as far as I know, my reaction was reasonable. I acted as an officer should. A wrong was done, and I found the culprit"
SPLOSH
Lefevre scrambled out of his seat, hoping sincerely that the deluge of water hadn't been pointed at Gerald.
Stepping out into the hallway, he looked around the corner. Gerald was at the back of the small crowd watching. The two Brigadiers stood at the center, both sopping. A third Brigadier was not too far away, holding an empty bucket. He walked up behind Gerald and whispered, "I wonder if Durand knows how dangerous Perrot can be when he's angry."
"Who knows what he was planning to get out of this, but if anyone doesn't report for duty on their next shift they will not get sick or vacation hours to account for it." Gerald stated, his hand on top of his service pistol's butt and thumbing his sword out at the same time.
With a quick movement, he grabbed Francis by his collar as he ran.
"Did that hurt?"
He chuckled.
"In any case, this will."
Without a second thought, he flourished his foot, and landed it down hard on the Brigadier's. As he began collapsing to the floor, he landed a punch directly on his chin, throwing him back.
"Now it's my turn, you insignificant whelp." Leon pulled out his Police Baton, and rammed it into Durand's stomach. Then, using the technique he had previously used to gather mucus, he spat onto the Brigadier's unwilling face.
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