Princess Alena appeared at the top of the stairs, hat gone, hair untamed, and, Jessica thought, quite a bit less than sober.
"Excuse me; is Angelo still down there?"
"He and Cristo are debating theology." Alena frowned. "Well, it started that way. They'd had enough that the conversation was starting to," she gestured vaguely, "wander, so I decided to go to bed." She smiled. "Care to join me?"
Jessica sputtered, certain the other woman couldn't be serious.
Alena made it clear how serious she was.
And Jessica couldn't be sorry the men were unlikely to come upstairs any time soon.
It was late and he was perhaps a bit tipsy, but Angelo didn't think he was sufficiently far gone to be seeing double.
Still, a second opinion certainly couldn't hurt.
He caught the arm of his erstwhile companion, nearly overbalancing them both. Cristo glared and straightened his hat, with the attitude of a man intending a lecture as soon as he could form words; Angelo placed a finger to his lips and tugged him - more gently this time - to the bedroom door.
Cristo stared, then made a strangled sound which might have been, "My God." Then he stared a bit more before announcing, "That's Alena. Naked. In your bed. Naked."
"With Jessica."
"While we were drinking, they were..."
"So it seems."
Cristo slumped against the doorframe, in a pose of dejection which made Angelo worry he was destined to spend the next few hours offering reassurance while Cristo played the jilted lover, and Cristo's bleak expression when he looked up did nothing to comfort him. Indeed, the other man looked appallingly like he might cry.
"My God," Cristo said again; there was a catch in his voice, and Angelo braced for the worst. "My God. We missed it."
