As the minutes ticked away, a few different people crossed into the room. A few EFL bigshots wandered in, and the turned away in disgust when they sa the small menu. Then there was a few Royal Navy officers, now chatting merrily in a corner booth.
After awhile, another wierd man came in.
He was carrying a bottle of wine in one hand, the cork popped out, and only about 1/3 of the alchoholic beverage still left in the bottle. The guy was in rags, tumbling around the place, and knocking various metal decorations and dispensers onto the floor. He slowly made a winding path towards the bar. Instead of trying to stammer out something to the attendant, he turned to Simon and Lillian, slurring out something barely discernable.
"Boo...aahh..bonj-...j..our..." He saidm barely forming the words.
"Oh, damn..." Perrot thought, keeping an eye on the drunken vagrant.
The man turned his bleary eyed stare to Lillian. "Ah...le'ss.." he seemd to doze off for a second, saying even more, but then woke up a bit more. He pointed an unstable finger at Perrot. "...come on, an'...an' we'll go dancin'... ooo...oui?" He stammered out.
The Lieutenant moved his hand close to the short-foil holestered by his side. One more move. ONE more...
The drunk suddenly grabbed at Lillian's arm, swaying the other direction now, trying to pull her away. "Dancin'..." he mumbled.
Suddenly, Perrot grabbed the hilt, and whipped out the blade in one, fluid movement. within an instant the whole blade was out, it's smooth, thin, shorter metal rod peaked by a graceful point. As it came out, he twisted it around, passing just above Lillian's head, and hitting the harasser square on the side off the head. There was an audible crack as part of his cheek shattered, slightly disfiguring his face, and made his jaw gape open in momentary anguish. As he slipped down, onto the floor, the blade dragged across the skin, leaving a long cut down the side of the man's head. By the time he hit the ground, he was unconscious, knocked out by the pure force of the blow.
With another movement, he had the blade in it's holster, and he was back in his seat. Lillian was almsot shocked, but then a smile came upon her face. "Merci, mon amour..." she gave him a kiss on the nose. "Merci..."
He gave a kiss of his own, on her cheek, and leaned back. After a few seconds, he turned to an attendant, pointing at him, and then the passed out vagrant.
"Call station security to pick him up, oui, Monsieur?"
The attendant nodded furiously, his mouth slightly agape, and walked off to a console on the side of the bar.
He turned back to Lillian. "Perhaps we should continue eating?" SHe nodded, giving a small chuckle at the absurdity of the situation, and took another bite of her pastry.