began

No towers of

hungry diners all around him would be going green as they ate their sauce-dribbled filigree slices of something expensive.
"Uh, yes, Chef. And to start?"
Chip was now beginning to thoroughly enjoy himself. "Gin rather than soup, I think. As a mere soldier, you don't have pretend that it's a martini, or put an olive in it and quintuple the price." Being crass was quite delightful, really—even if was a bit petty and he didn't really like gin.
The waiter began to retreat as quickly as possible without turning and running. "I will send the sommelier," he said.
"You do that," said Chip cheerfully. He'd already decided. They'd have some of the Clos Verde Directors Reserve Cabernet '03. Between the Magh' destruction and the rats and bats blowing the remains sky-high, that was a vineyard that wouldn't be offering any wine for sale again for a long time. And he'd like to commemorate a memorable meal with his friends. He wished that he could bring them here. Now that would be a party! Especially fat Fal chugging wine out of the bottle. Even if they weren't human he'd rather have them for company than most of the people here.
"There's an odd atmosphere here tonight," said Lynne Stark, commenting on something that Chip had wondered about. He'd been unsure "