The three-headed dog trotted into the room, and Creusus stroked its coarse fur.
“Well, is there any news of Morgue?”
“Not much.” Flavius settled farther into his chair.
“I have heard, though, that he plans to move his base.”
“Where to?”
“Oh, probably Jiyidil or some place like that. You know, those big cities.”
Creusus nodded.

“Flavia! You’ll catch your death of a cold out here without your coat!” It was Brian’s voice, imitating Mother’s.
Flavia, ignoring his remark, turned and gave him a sweet smile. “Wouldn’t it be lovely Brian, if—”