"Relax, Glyn, relax."

All her bad energy would rob me of my morning ritual of enjoying my first cup of coffee. One does not drink it. One nurses it. Feeling the-

-"HE IS AN IDIOT!"

My companion violated my rite of communion with the coffee.
-"Glyn, you know you said the same about his uncle."

My associate started tugging at her hair, frothing at the mouth at the mere mention of him. Actually, any of them were verboten.
-"EXACTLY!"
She started doing rounds, clamping on her whip, her distress getting the better of her.
"The Blonde Menace! If he couldn't carve a Goliath to ribbons with his Crocea Mors, he would need to be institutionalized!"

I dipped my tongue and enjoyed the special nirvana of the Mistralian elixir that inhabited my cup.
-"But he can."

She rounded on me with irate eyes.
-"If you take his Crocea Mors from his hands, he is a defenseless moron."

I smiled, this time it wasn't due to the coffee.
-"I wouldn't be so sure about that."