Serafine cuts her eyes at Peter as he takes a sip from his mug. “So, Bren, have you consorted with your slave?” A smile spreads nice and slow across her face.
Peter spits out his drink across the table onto Sarah just as she chokes on her bread. “Um.” He coughs a bit. “No.” He glances at Sarah as she dabs at herself with a napkin, and then puts out his hand, getting control of his coughing. “I mean, it’s, um, against homini, uh, custom to be with the, um… the, uh… the help.” He shakes his head, squinting across the table at her, and drops his head.
Sarah coughs up the last bit of bread, putting a hand to her chest, and takes a few sips from her mug. She glances at him over the mug’s thin rim.
Peter glances at her too, but won’t make full-on eye contact.
Sarah watches him run his hands
