Merlot Wystine had fallen asleep in the red armchair in front of the fire. Ira was perched on her slanted shoulder when the knock came.
“Hold on!” Merlot called drowsily. One eye was still asleep. Glancing around swiftly to ensure that there weren’t any conspicuous piles of money lying around, Merlot opened the door.
“It takes you too long to open the door!” Gilles complained. “Who’d you think it was?”
Merlot dismissed this with a wave of her hand. “You woke me up…” she said accusingly. “Dammit, I don’t get enough sleep as it is!” She collapsed dramatically into the chair as her lips turned up into a smile.
“Shall sleep no more, Macbeth shall sleep no more!” Gilles chortled.
Merlot sat up and frowned. “I can’t be Macbeth, because that would make you Lady Macbeth. Afterall, it was you who encouraged me.”
Gilles looked toward the rooms filled with the green devil. She was right, Merlot was always right.