Prompt: This would be her last meal with them

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Empty wine glass

Welp, that didn’t go sho bad…

This would be her last meal with them. It didn’t take a genius to realise that. Mr and Mrs Hamish – her with her squeaky-white pearls and blue rinse and he in his three-piece suit, more mustache than face, both sat up so ramrod straight they probably wouldn’t bat an eyelid if you inserted a pole up each of their arses – they hadn’t exactly warmed to her. She didn’t entirely blame them.

No, she blamed Hamish, the man himself, currently attempting to burrow himself into his ridiculous pseudo-artsy cravat before either party could decapitate him. What a coward. What a wretched, craven, sexy, sexy coward. There was no way he would ever wrap his sexy, sexy coward’s body around hers again.

“Och well, might as well make the most of a bad joke”, she thought, reaching across to where they’d parked the frightfully expensive Chateau de Collapso and pouring herself as generous a measure as physics would permit. Mr Hamish had earlier pronounced it “really rather splendid”, before – and she swore she hadn’t even touched a drop by this point – whinnying to himself.

She looked up, laughing to herself, and froze. The entire table was staringĀ back, except Mr Hamish, whose eyes had become unfortunately fixated on the squid captured in mid ink splooge tattooed between her breasts as she’d swooped on the vino.

“Did I say that out loud?”

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