“Well, what if we put this unit here, and have them swing around to the right?” I suggested.
The diminutive yet imposing man gave me a typically French dismissive noise. I sighed and tried to compose myself. The assembled generals, in their ornate colored uniforms shifted uneasily in their seats around the map.
“Alright, well suppose we have these three columns march here. We can deploy two rifle units to contend with the Green Jackets on the right and left. Meanwhile…” But I stopped. My host was already rolling his eyes and nervously tugging at the curl of hair beside his ear. Someone across the room took a hit of snuff and sneazed.
“Well, as long as we can move the artillery to…” I had to struggle to contain myself. He wasn’t even listening, the smarmy little self-important runt—some emporer! He looked even smaller in person than he did in the painting behind him.
“Fine, if you think you can plan Waterloo any better, you do it!” I shouted and stomped away, probably to be executed later.