"A wolf?" Jane Sampson burst out laughing, "Since when did James Black get that nickname?"
"Today," Peter Gingery shrugged, "You didn't see him training someone earlier, he was as fierce as a wild wolf. Otherwise, why do you think I would leave all that delicious food at your place uneaten?"
"I didn't coax him," Jane Sampson said, noticing that James Black's attention wasn't on her, she added haughtily, "Who would indulge him anyway!"
Peter Gingery snorted at Jane Sampson, "If you're so capable, go say that to his face."
Not capable.
Jane Sampson gave a toothy smile.
"What are you two whispering about?" Yvette Quick asked, sitting between Jane Sampson and Peter Gingery with a wine bottle in hand, shaking it at them, "Come on, let's cheers, just a small sip for you, little Jane."
Jane Sampson's alcohol tolerance was almost nonexistent, so Yvette Quick didn't plan to have her drink much—just a touch of the glass and a couple of sips, to participate in the spirit and atmosphere.
