Just as he was about to explain his predicament to the directeur and commisaire, his train of thought was broken by the unexpected delivery of wine by one Leon Chevalier.
He looked down at the glass, and then up at the co-worker whom he so hated. Deciding things could certainly not get worse if he were a bit drunk while he told of his troubles, he cautiously accepted the glass.
With the first sip, his eyes went wide, and he began desperately spitting up the foul, foul wine.
Phlegm.
"LEON!"
Without a second thought, his sad thoughts were smashed to the back of his head, to be suddenly replaced by a flood of unbridled anger that no other man could possibly match.
The Brigadier leaped up from the table, landed on both feet, and bolted out of the cafe. Leon had not caught him in a good mood.