Thomas leaned back into the sofa and raised the goblet to his lips. The warm, slightly viscous cognac slipped across his lips and down his throat, heating up his mouth and chest. It was good brandy. There was none of the ragged edge that one comes to expect from the cheap stuff, slicing into ones gullet instead of the smooth slide of this fine drink.

He looked up to see Paul smiling at him, and then his own goblet;

“You like the Cognac then, Thomas?”

Thomas simply nodded, allowing a smile to spread across his face. There are those that would claim that gaining such pleasure from what is essentially a drug is not wise, but Thomas reveled in the sheer luxury of drinking such exquisite booze and had no shame about it;

“Paul, it is magnificent. Thank you mon ami. You must allow me to return the favour at some point. You do like whisky, don’t you?”

Paul nodded and his smile grew even wider. He took immense comfort in knowing that Thomas was as moved by the senses as he was; they were going to be good friends.