Chéri shrugged “Oh please. We can drink as much as you like.” He winked. He definitely wasn’t going to judge her for that. He had had his fair share of excesses, which would have been fine, had he not developed this vision of the world by the age of eighteen.

Chéri spontaneously put his head on Christine shoulder and relaxed. He had gotten used to being loved, even adored, but inconsequent tenderness with no innuendo was something he had generally lacked in his life and he was enjoying that, especially with a little bit o wine. Relaxation at last. It was almost too much.

“But she was a queen already, why did she care at all about being happy?” Asked Chéri, who saw beauty as a job more than anything else.